The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  “There is no time!” Kerian snapped back. “I’m not letting that ship out of my sight ever again!” He turned and started to scale the stonework, scrabbling for holds and kicking free loose pieces of masonry, his scabbard dangling at his legs, his satchel bouncing from his right hip and his shield dulled a mustard yellow by the threatening bleak sky.

  “Are you just going to leave me here?” Octavian enquired as the boat continued to slowly drift away from the pillar, now that only one set of oars was powering it. “You can’t do that to me Kerian. I don’t know where to go!”

  “Don’t worry.” The knight replied. “I’m not going to be long. It’s a quick race across the top of the arches, then I can get on board the ship and I can introduce you to Colette.” Octavian looked back across the churning water at the chaos and screams ensuing aboard the El Defensor then shook his head in concern. Listening to the noise the strange galleon was the last place they needed to go. It seemed no matter where Kerian went trouble was never far away.

  “Just row between the archways and I’ll meet you there soon.” Kerian shouted, leaping up to a hand hold and sending grit cascading down. “It will be fun!”

  “By the sounds of it, it’s probably a private party and we should really wait until we are invited.” Octavian replied, really not sure what the best course of action should be.

  “And miss all the excitement?” Kerian grunted, swinging his right boot up and levering himself further up the pillar, his fatigue all but forgotten, his spirits boosted by the thought that the woman he loved was only a few arches away.

  “Can I at least keep the pet with me.” Octavian ask, pulling valiantly at the oars and only finding himself spinning in a small circle as he tried to stop the lifeboat drifting completely away.

  “Octavian you should know better.” Kerian replied. “You know dogs can’t row!” He turned back to his climb and inched up another few feet, continued his ascent with focused determination.

  “You know dogs can’t row.” Octavian mimicked, putting on a squeaky voice in parody of Kerian’s own as he watched his colleague incredulously leaving him behind. He cursed under his breath then turned away, pulling on the oars. Maybe, Kerian was right, if he angled the boat correctly, he could eventually work his way along the gateways and get closer to the galleon but he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  “At least I’m loyal and don’t leave my colleagues in the lurch.” Octavian muttered to himself, struggling to adjust the direction of the boat as he reluctantly inched the small vessel towards the sounds of the battle. The gypsy watched Kerian climbing up the column until a sudden cold shiver ran up his spine. He shook himself, trying to banish the overwhelming sensation that he was seeing his companion for the last time.

  “More loyal than you deserve, you clod. Just be careful…” He muttered, fighting back his emotions and bending to the oars before whispering one last adieu after the distant figure.

  “And watch your back.”

  * * * * * *

  “It’s not breaking!” Abeline cursed, hanging from the rigging high above the deck and pulling furiously at where two lengths of chain joined together. “I need something to lever it apart.”

  A crazed figure jumped down onto the deck and charged screaming towards Plano, swinging a rusty sword that had clearly seen better days. The acrobat frowned at the interruption and turned from watching his brother struggle above him to address this new problem.

  “Excuse me for just one moment.” he grinned, before swinging himself up by the ropes and bringing his legs around in a beautiful arc that collided right under the charging thug’s throat, momentarily lifting the man from the deck. He dropped to the ground holding his neck and gasping, whilst his sword flipped up into the air. Plano swung out again, caught the blade as it started to tumble and threw it up to his sibling.

  “Thank you!” Abeline replied deftly catching it, inserting the blade into the link and levering with all of his might. The chain parted with a snap but unfortunately, so did the end of the blade the acrobat held. The weapon jumped in his hand and he instinctively dropped it, only to observe the sword bounce from the rail and sink into the frothing waters.

  “We need another sword.” He cried down to his brother.

  “Another one!” Plano replied. “What happened to the last one?”

  “I guess they don’t make pirate swords like they used to!” Abeline exclaimed, inching his way along the spar to untangle another length of chain. Plano looked across the deck where a crazed fighter was chasing Violetta sword held high and grabbed hold of a rope secured to the mast beside him.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” The acrobat muttered, wrapping his leg around the rope before he dropped down and swung out across the deck, in a move reminiscent to which he used to perform in the circus. His body swooped through the air, his legs scissoring forward as he reached the bottom of the arc, propelling him up and alongside the screaming fighter. Plano reached out and snatched the marauder’s sword from his hand as he passed, leaving the attacker running towards the skillet wielding cook with nothing to fight with.

  Violetta instantly stepped forward, swinging her cast iron pan with a skill learnt from years of use within the ship’s galley, smashing her assailant in the stomach and then smacking him over the head when he doubled over. Plano continued his swing, leaving the formidable cook in his wake and mentally noting never to criticise her cooking again. His path of travel took him out over the skirmishing crew, towards the starboard side of the ship. He reached the apex of his swing just as a huge Scintarn hound leapt for him, its jaws wide open.

  “Sacre Bleu!” the acrobat yelled, pulling back against his rope in shock. The hound’s teeth snapped together inches from his heel as Plano started to wobble back across the deck, straight towards the raging melee he had passed. The acrobat realised he was never going to make it back to where he started, so he let go of the rope, dropping to the deck and rolling, just as Commagin let loose with his silver crossbow.

  The air above the tumbling acrobat filled with bolts that peppered attacker, hound and ship alike as the weapon that was the Dwarven engineer’s mightiest achievement roared. Plano scrambled across the deck on all fours, passing beneath the Dwarf, only to find his back suddenly used as a make-shift bench when Commagin placed the Lady Janet down upon him to reload.

  “Thank you.” Commagin grinned, swinging his crossbow up again and squeezing the trigger to produce another flurry of deadly shafts. Plano shook his head and continued to crawl off across the ship, the cutlass clunking off the deck each time he placed his hand down. Rowan suddenly screamed at the acrobat to duck, charging at him and swinging her wrench. The acrobat threw his head down, almost kissing the deck, his hair parting as she swung the tool missing his head by inches.

  A loud yelp sounded as the wrench smacked across the nose of a Scintarn hound that was about to bite Plano’s neck and it shied away, nursing its snout, its pride hurt more than the wound it had received. Plano looked up into Rowan’s sparkling eyes and threw a clumsy salute.

  “Mademoiselle, I am forever in your debt.” He laughed, getting back to his feet, before swiftly parrying a portly attacker charging in from the side, slashing the blade across his sternum and letting the body drop to the deck.

  “I am sure you will return the favour.” Rowan replied, nodding her head in acknowledgement before stepping away to tackle another foe. Plano noticed a gap between the fighting figures and set off at a run, dodging a wild swing from a vacant-eyed assailant, then dropping to slide beneath the clashing blades of Mathius as he took on two fighters single-handedly.

  The assassin thrust one of his daggers directly into the ear of his nearest opponent, then snatched the sword from Plano’s grasp as the acrobat slid beneath him, using it to keep his second aggressor at bay whilst throwing his remaining dagger straight into the throat of yet another foe closing in. He launched into a dizzying counter, before flicking out with the tip of the s
word and slashing it across the man’s abdomen dropping him to the deck.

  Mathius spun around and threw the sword back into Plano’s hands. The acrobat deftly caught the weapon before continuing his charge towards the port side rigging. He slid to a stop beneath his brother and swiftly scrambled up alongside him before breathlessly offering the blade.

  “What took you so long?” his brother enquired, before wrinkling his nose in distaste at the state of the weapon and the gore now running across his hands.

  “What’s wrong with you Plano?” He remarked, shaking his head in disappointment. “You could have brought me a clean one.”

  * * * * * *

  Thomas swung himself inside the scaffolding, only to come face to face with an enraged man who immediately charged towards him and tried to hit him with a large metal pole. He parried the first blow, knocked the bar out wide and hoped that this would be enough to cool the assailant’s rage towards him, only to hear the fighter angrily roar and then attack again.

  The captain stepped back, shocked by the ferocity of the man’s actions, especially as he held the superior weapon and was likely better trained. Yet the crazed man before him continued to charge, his eyes glazed, not focusing on Thomas at all. It was as if the man had been programmed just to batter anything he encountered. The fact that the man’s eyes gave no clue of what he was about to do was truly unsettling. This was Malum’s work, of this Thomas had no doubt.

  Thomas stepped to one side, allowing his attacker to swing his pole at thin air, then shoved him hard, watching with pity as the dazed man simply stepped off into space, still swinging his pole as he fell down towards the El Defensor, smacking his head on the side of the ship before crashing into the waters below. Thomas had no time to watch the fall and continued his anxious climb up the wobbling structure, trying to put out of his mind that the whole scaffolding could fall apart and crash into the waters at any moment, taking him with it!

  His ship was in danger this was all that mattered.

  He finally reached the top of the pillar and pulled himself up onto the stone of the archway, noting the six huge chains secured across the opening that were holding his ship and crew captive. He swung his cutlass as hard as he could, watching the magical blade cleave through the rusty metal with a spark and chip into the archway. The portside edge restraint shot off the wide bridge of stone with a loud rattle and disappeared into the void as Thomas wrenched his blade free and charged towards the next anchor point. He chopped his cutlass down onto the next chain, hearing it snap cleanly and bounce off the edge of the arch.

  That was two. Four to go.

  He looked towards the next chain and noticed some movement at the far end of the arch, something was clambering rapidly up through the scaffolding, something moving fast with a spider-like motion that was unmistakable, using many more hands that a normal human would have at their disposal.

  Thomas froze. He knew who this was, knew that this encounter was inevitable. The very thought of getting close enough for Malum to dazzle him with his coloured barbs and rend him limb from limb made the captain doubt every skill he ever had. His confidence started to diminish like a sand castle washed by the tide.

  Malum pulled himself upright and rolled back his shoulders, his pale face turning this way and that sniffing the air, seeking the man he had waited so long to punish. He turned to the left, then to the right, his barbs extending like the tendrils of a dangerous man-o-war, their colours pulsing black and red, the endings opening and closing.

  Click clack, click clack.

  Malum turned slowly towards the sounds of running feet heading in his direction and smiled, his translucent skin threatening to tear as his lips rubbed over the ragged stubs of his ancient yellow brown teeth. His nostrils flared, confirming the smell of the man his sightless eyes could never see.

  “Ah, Thomas. It appears you have finally been let out to play.”

  * * * * * *

  Commagin held his crossbow up to his shoulder and swung it about the deck looking for another target. Several of the El Defensor crew dived to the deck as his sights passed over them, dreading the aged Dwarf might accidentally wound them with his wayward aim.

  A huge hound pulled itself over the rail of the ship and dropped down upon the deck, its paws as large as dinner plates, its armour plating flashing as bright as any polished gemstone. Commagin swung the Lady Janet in its direction and drew a bead just below its heavy brow and directly between its pitch-black eyes.

  “Just a little closer.” The Dwarf whispered. “Just one more step.”

  Something slammed into the starboard side of the El Defensor setting the whole ship juddering. Commagin’s quarrel shot from his crossbow, ricocheted off the Scintarn’s shoulder and shot over the ships rail.

  “Damn! Now what?” The dwarf shouted, only to find himself staring open-mouthed as the monster Scintarn charged towards him. He pulled his crossbow up, determined to stop the beast in its tracks, only for the quarrel to snap as the string missed the nock, jamming the beautiful weapon.

  “Oh hell.” Commagin mouthed as the hound pounced.

  Several black arrows streaked down from above, punching the creature in its shoulders, neck and head, just as it jumped. The Scintarn piled into Commagin, its momentum too fast to be simply stopped by a volley of Weyn’s arrows, burying the Dwarf under its huge mass, its body limp and lifeless, squashing the engineer as its life blood dripped out across the open deck.

  Weyn looked down at his latest victim from his viewpoint high on the mast and grinned, noting the tell-tale sign of Commagin’s wriggling boot sticking out from under the massive black pile of fur which confirmed his shipmate was still alive and ‘sort of’ kicking.

  He drew another arrow from his quiver and turned towards the collision that had just happened on the starboard side and watched in amazement as two giant lizards started scrambling over the side of the ship from a sleek slate-grey ship that appeared to be floating in the air! The lizards hit the deck running, charging from one person to the next, attacking crew and attackers with equal enthusiasm. One of them appeared to have a dead cat perched on its head, whilst the other pounced on to a growling Scintarn and wrapped its muscular tail around the unfortunate hound’s neck, crushing the creature to the deck, even as the lizard’s claws tore into another attacker’s chest.

  Weyn narrowed his eyes when he noticed that the lizard with the bizarre headpiece had chosen to run towards Rowan and Austen but both of them were occupied struggling to lever a length of chain free from the starboard rail. They would never see the attack coming. His hand quickly reached for an arrow and he pulled his bow back to full draw, fixing a bead on the reptile and judging its path of travel before letting the shaft fly.

  The enchanted arrow hit Horatio’s armoured snout and physically snapped in two, making Weyn blink in astonishment and the lizard spin around angrily, his tail flicking with agitation, his nose sniffing for his attacker.

  “I don’t believe it.” The archer gasped, feeling for the return of his magical arrow and finding nothing but an empty hole where it should have been. “I just don’t believe…” The lizard suddenly looked up, its reptilian eyes blazing with fury, its ire clearly directed in Weyn’s direction to where he balanced on the spar.

  “That’s not good.” Weyn muttered, reaching for another arrow as the lizard zig zagged across the deck towards the rigging and then started purposefully climbing up the ropes towards him. The archer fired another arrow, begging and pleading for it to be effective, only for the reptile to dodge to one side sending the arrow shooting over the side. Another followed, equally avoided by the sinuous creature as it scrambled up the lines towards him.

  “Definitely no good!” Weyn started edging back along the spar, moving away from the main mast, wishing he had a sword, anything to protect himself from the armoured monster, other than the totally inadequate dagger he had sheathed at his side. Horatio pulled his huge body up onto the far en
d of the spar, his tail wrapping around the wood to aid stability, then hissed angrily in Weyn’s direction before charging across the narrow beam towards him.

  Another arrow bounced off its belly, a further ricocheted off the lizard’s armoured brow and still it relentlessly advanced as the archer backed further away. Weyn’s boot wobbled as he placed it and he looked down to realise that he had run out of places to run.

  No, this was definitely not good at all!

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  “So this is the ship that is going to take me home?” Justina enquired, stepping down onto the El Defensor’s deck, her fur coat from Blackthorn now replaced by glowing magical armour that appeared barely practical for the amount of flesh that was shown and equally distracting to Scrave as he stepped down alongside her.

  “I must confess I find it a little rustic for my taste.” The sorceress commented, “but I do like the rug.” She kicked at the corpse of the huge Scintarn hound that had flattened Commagin, before walking purposefully out onto the deck, pausing only to lift her hand and lazily flick an explosive magical dart at one boarder who made the mistake of charging towards her with a weapon in hand. He fell to the deck seconds later, his boots smoking, missing a large portion of his skull.

  “Yes. This ship can take you back to Catterick.” Scrave replied, suddenly distracted by the twitching boot he noted sticking out from under the ‘rug’. Justina turned revelling in the chaos unfolding around her, listening to the wails and the screams, soaking it all in and relishing the excitement after spending several weeks afloat on the barge with two large lizards, a boring and overly clingy buccaneer, a neurotic priest worried about his damned book getting wet and an elf that had become somewhat more useful than she had initially anticipated.

  “Why do you covet this ship so?” the sorceress asked, her gaze catching sight of one of the lizards, what was his name, ‘Horror show’ or something, clambering up into the rigging after a man armed with a bow.