“I was born in Arnreith.” Scrave whispered, trying to prize the Dwarfs bloody fingers from his clothes. “So Hell does not scare me.” Commagin’s eyes blazed with fury at this betrayal but his strength of will could not stop the evil magic of the dagger from doing its insidious work. The Dwarf tried to suck in another breath, tried to gather the strength to throw a meaningful curse, fighting the serpent for every second of life that it drained from his body.
And then he could fight it no more.
* * * * * *
Weyn nervously licked his lips as the giant lizard continued to advance along the beam towards him. Despite the perilous situation the archer now found himself in, his mind was thinking the strangest things. He slung his bow over his shoulder and snatched a quick look down at the deck far below. It was a long way to fall! He considered using his dagger as a defence against the monster but if his magical arrows could not harm the beast the chance of his secondary weapon even scratching its hide was at best debateable.
He considered diving from the mast, the absolute image of a swashbuckling hero, knife firmly clasped between his teeth, then realised that he would need to miss the remaining sails still snapping angrily around him and avoid hitting the strange skiff that had collided with the El Defensor and had of all places decided to hover right where he needed to jump!
He also wondered if it was a dead squirrel on top of the lizard’s head.
The reptile hissed again, its long, forked tongue tasting the air. Its approach no longer rushed as it now toyed with its prey. After all, Weyn had literally nowhere left to run. The archer swore under his breath. If he ever got out of this, he was never ‘going high’ again!
“Jump!” a voice shouted from the left.
“W…What?” Weyn turned towards the sound and noticed Plano waving urgently at him from the wreckage of the fore topsail, a rope in his hand.
“Jump!” the acrobat gestured again waving his hand anxiously. “Hurry there is no time to wait. Don’t worry I will catch you!”
“Now?” Weyn’s voice wobbled as he looked down at the deck. “Are you sure?”
Horatio growled at the unexpected development, recognizing he could lose his meal and immediately tensed up his legs. His tail twitched, before he lunged forward, jaws snapping, claws outstretched. Weyn threw himself from the stay, his hands frantically snatching the air as he jumped towards Plano. The lizard’s claws missed his boots by inches. Horatio clutched at thin air, then overbalanced dropping from the end of the mast, his massive limbs windmilling as he fell, his racoon skin hat plummeting after him.
Weyn screamed as he fell through the air, he could not help it, he was absolutely terrified but as he dropped Plano swung smoothly from the mast, a rope wrapped around his legs and swooped in to snatch the archer as he tumbled past. Weyn grabbed urgently at the acrobat, inadvertently pulling him off balance and making him fumble the simple catch. Plano’s hand slipped on the rope and the two of them crashed backwards into a canvas sail that immediately folded. They slid down the canvas, desperately trying to slow their fall.
Plano remained calm, reaching out to snag the rigging as he passed, whilst Weyn stabbed into the canvas sail with his dagger, tearing a huge rent in the fabric in an effort to slow his own rapid descent. The two men collided with each other and hung there gasping.
“See I told you it would be alright and I would catch you.” Plano smiled, just as the sail collapsed in on itself, dropping the two men down onto the tight curve of another sail beneath. They slid down the impromptu chute before emerging right over the chaos of the main deck, where they dropped and rolled over groaning, only to be buried by the ruins of the canvas sail that followed them down. Weyn cursed and kicked, burrowing his way through the billowing heavy material, until he was finally able to free his head. He came up facing a ring of swords held by grim faced knights and paused his struggles only for Plano to pop up beside him.
“Yeah everything is going to be fine.” Weyn stated sarcastically, placing his hands behind his head in surrender. “Just fine.”
* * * * * *
Thomas swung his cutlass with all his might, bringing it down on the third anchor point, shearing the chain in a rain of sparks. It whipped off over the stone edge, generating further slack in the net, permitting the El Defensor valuable space to inch forwards through the magical gateway. The captain risked a quick glance over the precipice, confirming his valiant efforts were not yet enough, noting his ship was still dangerously stuck between worlds. Magical spells crackled across the aft deck and then an explosion knocked Colette and her female adversary off their feet.
The energy trail snaking across the deck that linked Colette to the gateway stuttered, then flickered out as her head hit the floor and Thomas cursed as he recognised the consequences. With mystical energy no longer forcing the gate open, it would start to close. His head pounded at the implications. The galleon was not yet through; the El Defensor would be crushed!
Malum’s taunting laugh echoed above the sounds of the ongoing battle. Thomas looked over and noticed that his nemesis seemed well aware of the events unfolding below and was relishing them.
“If you want to free your ship, you have to come to me.” He hissed, one fine tendril dropping to the stone archway, the barbed fan at its end opening up and tapping the chain secured at his feet for emphasis. “You should never have run away. This punishment has been long overdue.”
“As is your painful demise.” The captain snarled, taking a deep breath to try and steady his nerves and lighten the heavy sense of responsibility he now felt pressing down upon his shoulders. He gripped his cutlass tightly, facing the horror that haunted his dreams and charged forward. There was no luxury of time, his hourglass was empty. Everyone’s fate depended on him now!
Malum’s tendrils flared wide like a peacock in a mating display, the fans at the end flickering vivid colours of greens and purples. Then each one collapsed, the barbs forming into angular darts all primed, ready to strike, swaying like agitated cobras and equally as dangerous. Thomas lunged once, twice, three times, trying to force Malum back and away from the anchor chain. The monster sensed Thomas’s desire and calmly dodged each thrust, ensuring every attack was wide of its mark, before setting his feet and sending his barbed tendrils spinning angrily in from the left flank.
Thomas turned to face the onslaught, swinging his cutlass in a glittering arc, causing the fans to retreat, only for others to arrow in from behind, tearing flesh from his shoulder and a laceration to his right leg, causing the captain to gasp in pain as he tried to escape.
“Oh Thomas, you are really out of practice.” Malum taunted, his attacks streaking in from high and low, forcing Thomas to hobble back into the clear or risk further injury. The arch started to tremble beneath his feet, vibrations racing up through the stone. The gateway was closing! He had to act now! Thomas feinted left, dodged right, swinging his cutlass towards Malum’s translucent midriff, batting the tendrils swarming towards him, turning himself in behind his swing and stepping closer, dropping his head to avoid a barbed fan, angling his attack so he could get inside the radius of the monster’s deadly reach.
Malum sensed him coming and smiled, allowing Thomas to believe he was beating his attacks on purpose, before he lashed out with his withered hands, his thick yellow nails gouging skin from Thomas’s cheek before an overhead fist slammed down into the captain’s skull.
“You are so predictable.” Malum hissed as Thomas dropped onto the stone of the archway.
“I think you will find that is mutual.” The captain grunted, swinging his cutlass towards Malum’s feet. The monster hissed in alarm, stepping back from the sword’s deadly path, then uttered a malicious laugh as the cutlass missed him. He turned his head, sniffing the air, trying to ascertain what action Thomas would attempt next, only to realise, with some surprise that Thomas was returning the laugh, his blade’s glittering path slicing through the real target and severing the anc
hor chain.
It rattled off across the stone, the end whipping around like a live serpent instead of an inanimate object, the links pulling tight and catching Malum’s emaciated foot as the chain shot past. Malum shrieked as it dragged him over the edge of the archway, his body all folding in on itself as he was pulled over the stone lip, the colours of his fans flaring black and yellow in distress. Tendrils whipped out defensively, fans slamming into the stone, the barbed teeth gripping the lichen coated surface, scrabbling for holds, missing the prone captain’s body by inches.
Thomas pulled himself to his feet, not believing his luck and turned his attention towards the next chain. A loud crack sounded behind him as the chain finally fell free but the captain was not willing to spare himself the time to see if Malum had fallen with it. Instead, he prayed that his actions would give his ship the valuable inches she needed to save her stern. There were still three more to go, three more chains to sever if he wanted to grant the El Defensor her freedom. He dropped and slid like a New York Yankee stealing home base, swinging his cutlass and smashing the fourth chain, before he was up and running again, determined to give the crew every fighting chance. If he could just sever the last two…
Something scrambled rapidly along the edge of the archway to his right, causing his heart to pound in his chest. No not now. Not when he was so close! Angry red and black coloured fans whirred and buzzed like agitated hornets, flaring brightly, moving faster than Thomas could possibly run. The captain threw everything he had into his charge, his eyes tearing in frustration as Malum overtook him, before scrambling up onto the path ahead, his translucent body blocking Thomas’s passage like some huge billowing Portuguese Man O War waiting for its prey to swim right into its venomous tentacles.
Thomas screamed his frustration aloud, charging in with abandon, cutlass swinging, only for the fans to flicker brightly, faster and faster, the beautiful colours calming him, making him want to stop, reconsider his actions. Everything was going to be all right, all he had to do was surrender himself to the will of the monster who had held him captive and whose evil presence had lingered in his nightmares ever since.
His mind warned him what was happening, screamed at him to close his eyes, fight off the temptations emanating from the creature that could control his mind but as much as he was horrified, he was also transfixed. The captain felt his resistance crumbling, his free will betraying him. His mind slipped into a pleasant fog where he felt liberated and free of the cruel burdens that life had laid upon him and despite his concerns he started to smile. The voices in his head were telling him to let go of his cutlass, to surrender to the inevitable.
Footsteps echoed on stone, rapid closing fast but Thomas did not care. He just needed to open his hand and throw his sword away.
“Styx!” Malum hissed, his voice fading as if he were turning away and addressing someone. “…but that’s impossible.”
What was impossible? What did that have to do with him dropping his sword? Thomas felt the fog starting to clear the suggestive hypnosis evaporating from his mind. He opened his eyes, immediately noting that Malum had turned his back to him, his focus now on something that had engaged with the monster. He looked down at his hand noticing that the hilt of his cutlass still remained tightly clenched in his fist, then realised he was on his knees. When had he dropped to the stone? He had no recollection of it.
Thomas looked up at Malum, noting the whirling and buzzing fans slicing through the air, darting around trying to score a hit on the unknown saviour that had come to the captain’s aid. He tried to see past the tendrils whipping around Malum’s body but could only make out lightning fast fragments of image, intersected by a sword that glowed so brightly it made Thomas squint.
Travel stained brown boots, dusty cream trousers, golden links of chainmail poking out beneath a leather tunic, a beige travel cloak that hung down over the fighter’s face. This was no one the captain recognised. The dazzling sword swept up banishing some of the shadows from inside the cloak’s hood revealing a split-second glimpse of a debonair smile that appeared so out of place that it seemed surreal.
A loud crash sounded from below, killing Thomas’s curiosity. His ship! The El Defensor! How could he have forgotten? He looked around the stone, quickly orientating himself to the anchor currently set between Malum and the man who fought him. He needed to get to the chain!
Thomas stood up and snarled, stabbing his sword towards Malum’s exposed back. The cutlass lunged towards the monster’s pulsating skin but some sixth sense must have alerted Malum and several barbs shot towards Thomas intercepting his sword and causing the captain to roll his shoulder and dip his head, as one fan ripped across his bicep, drawing a line of scarlet that quickly soaked through his torn shirt. His cutlass chopped through one tendril, sending gouts of sticky liquid into the air and drawing a shriek from Malum as the monster reacted fully, spinning around, determined to face the captain and deal with him once and for all.
As Malum turned, Thomas kept close with his back, running along the very edge of the stone archway, his boots scuffing loose lichen as his cutlass parried and blocked the angry barbs sent his way. He spun out into the open running for the fifth anchor point, only to have his leg snatched out from under him by a seeking fan that dropped him to the stone.
The captain kicked out, frantically trying to free his boot, the chain he wanted to sever painfully close but not close enough.
Malum roared as his mystery assailant scored a telling strike and the fan recoiled, withdrawing into a mass of tendrils that writhed in pain. Thomas rolled and swung his cutlass, watching with relief as the chain snapped and disappeared over the edge. Five had been destroyed. It had to be enough. He willed it to be enough, because somewhere in his mind, he knew the archway below had already closed.
* * * * * *
Ashe burst out onto the deck, his eyes filled with tears, his actions not those of someone with clarity of thought. He just wanted to run away and find somewhere to hide. He knew that the one inviolable rule of sailing on a ship was never to start a fire and he had broken that rule, putting the lives of all of the crew at risk by his actions.
He was so upset he never even saw the Scintarn hound that turned towards him and charged, thinking a Halfling mouthful was just what it needed. Never noticed the sword thrust from the magical knight who put it down, or the crazed privateer who then smashed that knight to the ground using a cudgel, creating a flurry of loose manuscript pages before he too was dispatched by a thrust from Austen as the crewman moved to protect Rowan and Violetta.
Ashe pushed through a group of people and someone kneeling, before tripping over something, sending both the Halfling and the object spilling across the deck.
Kaplain threw his arms up in horror as what appeared to be a small child ran over his precious tome before falling flat on their face, sending the magical book skidding over towards a group of three individuals the child had appeared to be running from. He stood up enraged, already ignoring the cries of apology as the child scrabbled to his feet and kept running towards the ship’s rail.
Rowan moved to retrieve the book but was caught short by the magical electrical charge meant to dissuade people from picking it up. She licked her finger looking up to see the priest angling towards her, his face a mask of fury.
“Violetta, 2 o’clock!” she warned, bringing her wrench around as Violetta moved up beside her.
“Give me my book.” Kaplain demanded, not slowing as he approached, clearly expecting the two women to cow to his demands.
“I don’t think so.” Rowan muttered, purposefully lifting her boot and placing it upon the book’s surface.
“How dare you!” Kaplain screamed, throwing a wild punch. Rowan instantly had a flash back to her older brothers fighting her; how they used to tease and how she had learned to defend herself from a young age to become the toughest brawler of them all. She ducked, allowing the punch to sail over her head, before she reta
liated by slamming the wrench into the priest’s midriff. He doubled over, allowing Violetta to step in and slam her skillet across his head with a backhand that would have put most tennis players to shame. Kaplain staggered, dropped to his knee and then fell to the deck senseless.
“That’s what you get when you don’t say please!” Violetta scolded.
His knights turned as one towards the disturbance, several pausing in mid-fight, allowing their opponents a free shot that served to simply showcase how outmatched they were. Several Scintarn ran away with maws stuffed full of yellowed pages of manuscript, whilst crewmen lost their weapons, still plunged deep within the knights’ sturdy bodies.
The warriors turned towards the book, marching across the ship determined to protect their magical resting place, two of them physically dragging the protesting forms of Weyn and Plano along the deck after them. Violetta and Rowan backed away, pushing Austen with them, there was no way they could tackle twelve magical knights by themselves.
“I’ll take that.” Mathius stated, scooping the book up from the deck using the edge of his cloak and running with it towards the prow, only to find a warrior step purposefully across his way, sword swinging. The assassin dodged to one side, changing direction, angling back across the deck, drawing more of the knights after him, knowing from previous experience that getting close to these creatures was not a prospect he wished to experience again.
He moved towards several Scintarn that had cornered some of the El Defensor’s crew, leaping up onto a crate and herding the knights after him, much to the horror of the sleek ebony hounds who immediately felt the bite of their enchanted steel swords. Mathius grinned at his own ingenuity. If he could keep this up, he could clear the deck of the opposing forces all by himself! He stole a quick glance over his shoulder, only to trip over the corpse of a Scintarn hound, sending the ledger flying from his grasp, right into the back of Ashe’s head.
The Halfling did not see the book coming towards him and had no idea he was about to be closely acquainted with such heavy literature. He was peering over the side of the ship at the skiff that was still hovering there, wondering if this could be his way off the galleon and a good place to hide until the aftermath of the fire had died down, when he was literally pushed onto it. He fell down onto the steel deck, the magical ledger thumping down alongside him. Almost as soon as he landed, he felt the vibrations in the strange craft increase as it moved away from the galleon.
The Labyris Knight Page 101