The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  Styx, there was no way that the Kerian below could be Styx. Could he? He watched as the younger Kerian stepped back to engage the first knight and whipped his sword through a salute that was identical to the one Styx had displayed in a darkened alleyway in Catterick all those months before. No it could not be! Yet, in his heart he knew it was. This Kerian Denaris was his Styx. Scrave’s eyes narrowed as his anger rose to the surface. How could he have been so stupid? A little voice in the back of his mind chuckled and the worm in his eye socket shivered. He needed a sword. Right now!

  A cold wind rattled the empty window frames, gusting into the room as a staccato rush of raindrops hammered over the sill. Lightning flickered outside and a loud rumble of thunder added percussion to the violin’s musical enchantment.

  Kerian parried the first strike from the nearest knight, their blades meeting high, then stepped back and ‘beat’ parried the knight’s low lunge, slamming his blade down hard and knocking the thrust away. A flick of the tip of his sword nicked the knight’s elbow but nothing came out of the wound except a scrap of aged parchment. A swift riposte followed by a lunge, a counter parry, then a ‘bind knock’ intercepting the knight’s attack from the left and knocking it out to the right, before Kerian lunged and plunged Aurora deep inside the man’s chest. Kerian’s grin of triumph ended prematurely as his foe head butted him, striking his nose with the iron rim of his helmet, making Kerian see stars.

  He staggered back, just as Justina sent several balls of fire flashing from her fingers to detonate against the golem’s hide at the top of the stairs. The creature finally showed signs of pain, stepping away from the flames and beating at its chest as they licked hungrily at its clothes. The knights also stepped away, their faces reflecting the respect they had for such a hungry blaze.

  Click Clack, click clack. Malum’s tendrils snapped out, stabbing the second knight at the neck, the face, the axilla and the groin tearing free tissue that turned into manuscript pages. His attack spun the magical fighter, then the tendrils realised that the creature could not sate Malum’s appetite and turned towards the only sources of flesh and blood available to them.

  Octavian played faster, the storm outside the window matching the ferocity of his playing. Lightning arced across the sky, this time striking the castle and causing the foundations to shake. Scrave staggered on the balcony, still trying to snatch a weapon from one of the knights hacking and slashing before him but with his hands tied, it seemed every time he grabbed a hilt of a weapon he felt it slip from his grip and his fingers ended up grasping air! He needed to get down into the laboratory, he needed to kill Kerian. No he did not! He needed to do something else but he could not remember what it was. Kill Denaris! No everything was becoming muddled again. He staggered as a knight suddenly whipped his sword around catching the Elf across the temple, drawing blood.

  Kerian pushed against the knight facing him, then felt his ears pop. The air at the centre of the laboratory shimmered and twisted, swirled and crackled and the loose items on the floor started to dance about the room, filling the air with loose sheets of manuscript, ruined bottles and pieces of armour that bounced about as if caught in a tornado. Quickly stepping back, Kerian fooled the knight into lunging forwards and over extending, leaving the enchanted warrior off balance. Kerian pushed as hard as he could and smiled as the man fell, then dodged back as another sword slashed the air before him. A stray candelabra flew through the air, smacking this second knight on the head, knocking him down on top of his comrade as a strong smell of ozone filled the room.

  Kerian turned, searching for Octavian through the swirling debris, then struggled towards him, the twisting wind at his back clutching hungrily, making him feel as if he were slogging through a morass. He held his shield up to guard his face, deflecting errant objects and scientific paraphernalia that flew madly about the room. The deflected items tumbled and bounced towards the maelstrom forming at the centre of the laboratory. A ball of blue lightning flashed into being, hovering above the debris, then it snapped wide open, revealing the haunting image of a familiar mustard coloured sky above a landscape of skeletal masts.

  The suction from the open portal increased tenfold, everything not bolted to the floor now started slipping and sliding towards the flickering maw. Kerian felt his eyes hypnotically drawn to the scene within the crackling gateway. Could it possibly be? Were his eyes playing tricks on him? The ships all forged together; shifting, spinning, grinding their rusting and rotting hulks in a torturous dance that would ultimately lead to their destruction.

  He finally reached Octavian but did not dare tear his gaze from the one thing he had spent all of these months chasing; the ship’s graveyard. Kerian placed his arm carefully around the gypsy, using his shield to guard his friend from the worst of the debris whipping through the air, whilst leaving Octavian free to continue playing as the tempest screamed. It was almost impossible to hear the music now, as the storm produced by Octavian’s playing roared so loudly.

  The images in the portal suddenly shuddered, the number of ships in the graveyard rapidly diminishing, then inexplicably multiplying again, as if the portal was opening at different periods, showing snapshots in the life of the decaying wrecks. There seemed no pattern to it, sometimes lots of ships filled the scene, other times practically none, calling into doubt the stability of Octavian’s magical gateway. The bannister suddenly tore from the wall and was sucked through the opening and whisked away, instantly disappearing as the scene through the portal flickered and changed. Knights tumbled to the floor and slammed against the walls as the storm took them and threw them about like rag dolls.

  Kaplain, clearly worried for the welfare of his magical fighters, shouted words instantly torn away by the storm but the enchanted knights responded instinctively and started crawling, staggering and walking back towards him, some suffering grievous wounds from the flailing arms of the flaming golem as the bearer held out his magical ledger and ordered his charges to sanctuary within the book. One by one they disappeared, as the bearer struggled to hold his ground against the shrieking winds threatening to tear the precious volume from his hands.

  The golem at the bottom of the stairs tumbled backwards and disappeared through the portal, then the one at the top of the stairs found itself dragged from its feet and sucked through, its mouth open in clear surprise. Justina cast a spell, hoping to shield herself and her troop from the relentless howling draw of the magical portal, encapsulating herself, Scrave and Kaplain in a sphere of energy which immediately set off bright sparks as debris pounded its magical surface. Her superior look of satisfaction instantly turned to horror as the larger surface area she had created made it easier for the vortex to gain a hold and wrench them from their position at the top of the stairs. Kerian caught a quick glimpse of the sphere being sucked through the opening in a flash of electrical blue sparks, along with a battered suit of ancient armour and assorted debris from the imploding laboratory.

  Kerian could barely stand, let alone see; the storm continuing to snatch at his clothes, stealing his breath, making him duck and use his shield to deflect the dangerous items flying about him. Malum suddenly lunged through the wall of flying debris, his pincers snapping, hands clutching, mouth open in a vengeful scream, just as a massive bolt of lightning crashed through the open window, lifting several work benches with the force of the explosion, striking Malum and knocking him flying through the portal. His hounds skidded and clawed at the floor trying desperately to avoid the fate of their master but one by one they were swallowed by the yawning opening.

  The knight` caught a rare glimpse of the graveyard in its infancy, then this too was snatched away, more shipwrecks falling into the necropolis even as he watched. He squinted against the dirt and grit flying about him, desperately trying to shield his face and eyes still not believing what he was witnessing. The ship’s graveyard was right before his eyes, all he had to do was pick the right moment and he could be back with Colette again. It
was a dream located within a nightmare, if he chose wrong they could be lost in time. If he chose right, there was still the possibility that the El Defensor would be months returning through a portal, if ever. He gritted his teeth, cursing his indecision. He was too close. This was the chance he had been waiting for.

  The view changed, showing several cargo vessels crashed together, their containers scattered like fallen building blocks. He knew those ships. It was time. He tightened his grip on Octavian’s waist then leapt, throwing away caution for the hope of finding Colette, dragging his friend with him into damnation.

  The storm stopped almost as swiftly as it was created. The rain easing as the clouds rolled away, revealing the darkness of the night. Stars blinked across the velvet sky and a gibbous moon appeared as the last ominous clouds magically melted away. Castle Glowme settled and creaked into an uncomfortable silence, then from out of the shadows a new sound arose. A steady marching of skeletal feet, the relentless beating of a rotting drum. Those in the know would have trembled in their beds and held their loved ones tightly. However, the creatures that lived in the petrified forests of Blackthorn knew only pain and terror as this army swept across the land killing everything in its path.

  The Provan legion were on the march and they would stop at nothing until they reclaimed what was rightfully theirs.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Rauph hung his head in defeat, waves of nausea rolling over him as he replayed his brother’s words and tried to pull free the throwing blade in his calf.

  “The Labyris axe is mine and Taurean has a new king.”

  After all that work, all the trials he had faced, his brother Drummon had beaten him to the prize. Drummon would be king, the crew of the El Defensor would be sold as slaves or sent to the mines and his friends likely slain; all because Rauph had not been fast enough. He tugged at the blade once again, gritting his teeth as he heard it slide wetly from the muscle. Blood welled up from the wound and started to trickle down his leg as Rauph carefully folded the weapon closed and placed it on the stone floor beside him.

  “Let me help you.” The serving girl offered, moving forwards.

  “After I have had my fill of the sandwiches and not before.” Wanessa ordered, yanking the slave back towards her, demanding that she be fed.

  The navigator barely noticed, absorbed in a sense of despair that crashed down upon his shoulders with a weight the Minotaur could never hope to resist. Rauph pulled his competition ribbon from his arm and tied his leg as tightly as he dared, before slowly moving to stand. It was all over now. He just had to accept his fate. He knew Drummon would not let him live, not with the cries of the crowd calling out the name Kristoph in ever louder voices.

  Rauph looked over to where Ashe struggled, his shoulder squeezed tightly by one of the guards, a sharp blade resting against his throat, then over towards the serving girl who was being berated by Wanessa for not putting her mistress’s needs before a male Minotaur. He knew who the serving girl was, recognised Colette from her scent, she could not hide it from him but the others here seemed to be none the wiser to her identity and thought she was simply hired help and therefore eligible to be abused.

  Sinders swooped across the room, irritating some of the guards by dive bombing them whilst being careful to stay out of sword range. The bird dipped one wing and gracefully pivoted around before flying to the centre of the orb, where it landed on the shoulder of a statue of a young woman holding an axe.

  “Come on brother. It is time to see me crowned King.” Drummon taunted. “I would hate for you to miss such a prestigious occasion.” He hefted the axe in his hands and walked out onto the balcony, determined to show the Taurean people that Mora’s successor had been chosen and that a new ruler now held dominion over their lives.

  Rauph watched him go, his shoulder’s slumped, his breath coming in ragged gasps, too tired to fight the inevitable; only to watch Drummon pause just before the balcony and motion to the guards. They leapt forward at his command, clearly anticipating this prearranged signal and grabbed Rauph roughly by the arms, dragging him after his brother and out under the twilight sky.

  “What are you doing?” Rauph demanded, as the coolness of the air wrapped around his body, the breeze from the water making his hair ruffle and a clarity return to his thoughts.

  “Why brother. It suddenly occurred to me that this is such a spectacular weapon and surely I as the new king should have the benefit of christening it.” Drummon stated, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I need a chair please!”

  “I simply cannot miss this.” Wanessa got to her feet and wobbled unsteadily, before regaining her balance, then she waddled over to the balcony, leaving her chair for one of the guards to retrieve and take over to their new king.

  Rauph suddenly realised what his brother was suggesting and tensed, trying to pull himself away. He freed one shoulder, threw a wild punch that set one guard’s helmet rattling and pushed another away, only for three more to grab him and restrain his arms making further struggle futile.

  “About there will be fine.” Drummon motioned, indicating that the chair should be placed right before Rauph. “Now kneel Kristoph and this time I shall finish the job properly. I understand a true headsman can take one with a single swing. I’m a little rusty myself so I may have to settle for two or three.”

  The pressure on Rauph’s arms intensified and two well placed kicks to his wounded leg had him dropped to his knees. Within seconds, his hands were tied around the back legs of the chair making it almost impossible for the Minotaur to pull free.

  “No!” Ashe screamed, struggling to pull away from the guard who held him, before finally slipping from his jacket and leaving the Minotaur holding nothing but the Halflings clothes. He dropped to the floor, rolled, then crawled away only to come up short against a long blue dress.

  “Ashe Wolfsdale. It appears we meet again!” Mora hissed, reaching forwards to grab him firmly by the ear and the scruff of his neck.

  “Ow! No, let me go! I have to save my friend.” Ashe yelled, wriggling furiously, his hands reaching out and grabbing at the Matriarch’s robes. She shook him hard, rattling Ashe’s teeth in his skull and lifted him free of the ground before walking out onto the balcony to join all of the others.

  “It is time for you to see what is about to befall you.” Mora stated coldly. “Kristoph is to die and then you are to follow.”

  “Look I’m sorry about the ring. I’ll give it back, just let my friend and I go.” Ashe sobbed, tears running down his face.

  “That time has long passed.” Mora replied. “Now be quiet, I do not want my son to hear the shrieks of a child as he dies. He fought hard for his prize and even though he failed, I wish for him to die with honour.”

  Rauph found his head roughly pushed down upon the chair seat and ended up facing the crowd of witnesses. Mora looked on, as cold and frigid a mother as ever was known, having got what she desired out of him, he was now to be disposed of. Wanessa was jiggling on her feet, excitedly clapping her hands and tittering. Drummon was smiling so broadly he was in danger of getting lockjaw. Aelius stood away from everyone, half hidden in the shadows, his face grim. Yet the face that broke Rauph’s heart, was the little Halfling’s. Ashe looked so tired, so bloodied, battered and bruised; covered head to foot in dust, spider guts and blood, his hair matted and sticking up in all directions and tears streaming down his face.

  “I’m so sorry I let you down.” The navigator whispered. His heart knowing that Ashe would soon be joining him.

  “Where are my delicacies?” Wanessa suddenly snapped. “I can’t watch an execution without nibbles!”

  The serving girl rushed over with a plate of food, her face a picture of concentration. Drummon swung the axe about, gauging the weight, his face frowning, as if he discovered that upon wielding the weapon it was off balance and not behaving as it should. He moved up close to Rauph, swung the axe and laughed as it swished through the air close to his
brother’s skull, then leaned down and whispered into Rauph’s ear.

  “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He winked, before walking to the edge of the balcony and holding the enchanted weapon up high for all of the Taurean populace to behold. The crowd roared their approval at seeing the royal party, high up on the balcony, many in the crowd using specially purchased eyeglasses to stare up and witness the spectacle of a new ruler for Taurean being crowned.

  “See, I am your king!” Drummon roared, holding the enchanted axe up high for everyone to see. “Behold your ruler.” A loud clatter sounded behind him and he turned to see Wanessa slapping the serving girl about the face and knocking her to her knees.

  “Next time bring the grass balls and cheese! I don’t know how many times I have had to tell you girl!” Rauph tried to see what was going on unaware that the serving girl was staring up at Wanessa with hate filled eyes, her look of concentration now lost. The floor about her scattered with small sandwiches and finger food that had been swept aside by the arrogant Minotaur.

  Drummon frowned and turned back towards the crowd, moving to hold the Labyris axe up for the crowd to see one final time before he turned and took up his position to take his brother’s head and cement his coronation. He lifted the weapon high, only to hear a gasp from Mora and some mutterings from the guards. Rauph felt the pressure release at his head just as Ashe opened his mouth and announced to the kneeling navigator what was happening.