The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

He tried to calm his breathing, collect himself, slowing his breaths until he started to make out the sounds around him. It was strange that in the confines of the graveyard his breathing appeared to have an echo. That was ridiculous! How could his breathing be echoing? Thomas took a deep breath and held it, his heart hammering loudly in his ears.

  The breathing continued heavily from directly behind his marble sanctuary!

  “I know where you are.” A voice shouted from near the cemetery entrance. “Come now Thomas, we can be reasonable. Give me back the stone and I’ll call off Cornelius and Horatio.”

  Thomas gritted his teeth and bit his tongue, he dared not reply in case one of the walking designer handbags Miguel Garcia used as his ‘hired muscle’ realised where he was and by the sounds of the sniffing and scrabbling behind him one of them was about to find out anyway. He edged slowly along the base of the statue, feeling the water flooding more steadily into his boot at the movement and drawing a surprised gasp before he could stop himself. His free hand slipped from the stone and landed heavily on a hard, cobbled tube. Thomas winced as he suddenly realised what it was. The lizard man’s tail slipped out from under his hand and a rumbling growl rose above him. The captain looked up into the shadows between the angel’s wings and took in the blunt snout and cold eyes of Horatio staring back at him.

  It was time to move!

  The NV-07 spat a crimson bolt of searing energy straight up, fired practically by reflex. Horatio bellowed in pain as the blaster scored a furrow across his reptilian nose and deflected from the spiny ridge of bone running from between his eyes all the way down his seven-foot-long height and out along a further three feet of reptilian tail.

  Marble chips exploded into the air as the lizard returned fire, his own weapon sending a withering barrage of bolts down into the space Thomas had just vacated. The captain caught a glimpse of a long sleek laser rifle, before he ran blindly from cover out across the graveyard. The air filled with crimson streaks of sizzling light, headstones that had resisted the elements for years exploding into rubble as the two lizards mowed down everything in their path.

  He ran up to a mausoleum, briefly considering trying the door and grabbing the handle, only for the door to disintegrate under another stray laser bolt. Thomas dodged left, sprinting beneath a monolith with an urn on the top. The urn went the way of the door; granite chips whistling across the captain’s path like shrapnel.

  Thomas held his arm above his head, protecting his face from the whistling debris and ran towards the cathedral. If he could get into the building, maybe, just maybe, he could shake the gruesome twosome from his trail. He turned around to see how close they were to catching him and the ground fell away from beneath him.

  The breath crashed out of his body as he hit the floor and it took Thomas a few seconds to extricate himself from the mud that now plastered him from top to toe. He staggered back to his feet, sludge dripping heavily from his clothes and realised he had fallen into a freshly dug grave. He wiped the mud from his face then frantically looked about the ground for his gun that he had somehow dropped in the fall but it was nowhere to be found.

  It appeared this night was getting better and better!

  Hissing grunts from above signalled the arrival of Horatio and Cornelius and they stared down at him with their cold reptilian eyes, their tails flicking excitedly. Thomas blinked to clear the rain from his eyes and noted that both creatures were armed with 326-CZ laser carbines. Thick tongues squelched from between armour scaled lips as the reptiles regarded their cornered prey with a hungry look in their eyes. A lighter set of footsteps arrived and walked slowly around the edge of the grave before moving forwards to reveal a silhouette Thomas knew only too well.

  “I see you are still dressing up for the occasion.” Miguel Garcia commented, pausing to light up a cigar and puff on it several times until the end glowed red. “You never had good dress sense. Now, I believe you have something that belongs to me.” The privateer, standing slightly smaller than Thomas, wore a long frock coat which had bandoliers over his chest. Large buckles on his belt and coat added to the look of a stereotypical pirate from the high seas, which was exactly the look Miguel was trying to convey. The fact that his flintlock pistols were blasters only served to reinforce his authority in this situation. Thomas frantically turned, checking both ends of the grave. Where was his damned handgun? He needed to put a shot right between the shifty man’s eyes.

  “Looking for this?” Miguel asked, holding up Thomas’s gun. “Sloppy Thomas, real sloppy. Now hand it over.”

  Thomas reached into his coat and lifted out a fist-sized amethyst. Even in the dull light from the hover car searchlight wobbling about erratically overhead, facets gleamed alluringly. Thomas knew he had no choice but to comply. It was Miguel’s gemstone after all. Maybe if he were lucky Miguel would just shoot him in the leg as a warning and spare his life.

  “You know I’m going to have to kill you?” Miguel informed him, rolling the cigar backwards and forwards in his lips and blowing out a cloud of smoke as he beckoned Thomas to come closer to his end of the grave. “It’s nothing personal.”

  “Sure it is.” Thomas replied, considering his unpleasant fate. “It’s always personal with you.” So much for the blaster bolt in the leg theory!

  “That’s because you always make it so!” Miguel screamed down at him, his control slipping as it had countless times in the past. “Every time our paths cross you make me a laughing stock! Remember how you tricked me into marrying the Twinwood Ambassador’s daughter?”

  “Oh yes.” Thomas replied, stopping as if a sudden thought had occurred to him and lowering the jewel gently back down by his side near to his coat pocket “What was her name again.” He clicked his fingers. “I remember. Tess. How is the old battle-axe?”

  Miguel ignored the jibe continuing to spout bile, pacing the edge of the grave in growing agitation as he remembered the slights against him.

  “Remember when you sold me that treasure map? The sure thing? The legendary Eaglestone treasure? The map that led to that island of cannibal frogs?”

  Thomas tried to hide the grin sliding across his face. Now that had been a funny one.

  Miguel shook with rage, brushing his hand nervously through his dark greasy hair. “And then there was the DeParys incident.”

  “Oh yes.” Thomas could not help but laugh this time. “The DeParys incident.”

  “Don’t talk about the DeParys incident.” Miguel snarled, pointing Thomas’s gun straight at him. “No one must ever mention the DeParys incident again.” Thomas observed the diode on the sidearm pointed at him and smiled to himself, even as he gently slid the amethyst back into his jacket. He also noticed that the hover car had swung around behind Miguel and his reptilian heavies and was now heading their way, wobbling unsteadily in flight as if the pilot was new to the machine. The captain suddenly had a sneaky suspicion who was at its controls.

  “I guess you’ve got me.” Thomas confessed, hoping to hold their attention for just a bit longer. “Just pull the trigger. Let’s get this over with.”

  “I have been looking forward to this.” Miguel smiled, stroking the end of his bushy moustache theatrically. He pulled the trigger…

  …and nothing happened.

  “It’s empty.” Thomas confessed. “I used the last shot when I re-fashioned Horatio’s nose.”

  Thomas surprised everyone as he dove towards their end of the grave. The hover car suddenly accelerated directly towards the group at high speed. It clipped a monument, teetered unsteadily then flipped; a large figure dropping from the driving seat as the car crashed to the ground, rushing straight over them, practically knocking the three thugs off their feet before exploding in a ball of flame. Miguel found himself teetering unsteadily on the edge, only for Thomas to take advantage and grab his feet, pulling the buccaneer into the grave with him where they grappled fiercely, each desperate to gain the upper hand.

  Thomas�
�s remaining lizard captors turned as one, as a creature from mythology smashed straight into them. Eight-foot-tall, horns gleaming wickedly in the light, red hair stuck up in every direction and slobber foaming from the end of its nose.

  Horatio met an uppercut that lifted the lizard off his back legs and rattled his brains. As the reptile fell senseless to the floor, his laser rifle was snatched up by the roaring hover car pilot, who set about brandishing the carbine with devastating effect. He pummelled Cornelius repeatedly about the body, microchips, circuit boards, sparks and smoke coming from the ruined weapon, as the massive Minotaur navigator from the El Defensor protected his captain the only way he knew how; by hitting things really hard.

  Miguel went to draw a blaster as he grappled with Thomas in the mud but a right hook from the captain stopped him in his tracks, making his teeth clash painfully together and catching his lip, which bloomed crimson droplets of blood.

  “Give me your weapons.” Thomas snarled, dripping mud down on his opponent.

  “Now, now!” Miguel held up his hands showing he was unarmed. “I wasn’t really going to shoot you Thomas. Old buddy, old pal.” He reluctantly passed over his two blasters, his dismay at doing so quite evident in his facial expression.

  The Minotaur stomped over to the edge of the grave and looked down at the two men covered from head to foot in mud. It took him a few seconds to recognise the man he sought and he gripped Thomas’s hand securely and hoisted the captain clear from what Thomas had fleetingly thought could have been his final resting place.

  “In the nick of time Rauph.” Thomas laughed, addressing his rescuer. “Just in the nick of time.” He turned to look down at the bedraggled figure in the open grave and smiled, his confidence returning in a rush now the tables had turned.

  “Come on Rauph, aren’t you going to help me out too?” Miguel asked holding up his hand. The navigator glared, snorting angrily down at the man, staring him down. Thomas tried not to laugh as the Minotaur continued to appear menacing, despite the fact, Thomas had never known a more loyal and gentler companion. “So you want me to stay down in the grave?” Miguel gestured miserably. Rauph simply glared as intimidatingly as he could and turned away, his opinion on the matter clear to see.

  “Thank you for your kind hospitality, and of course for the amethyst.” Thomas bowed his head theatrically, his sodden clothes clinging to his skin. “We have to leave now. I suggest you stay down there until we are gone, otherwise Rauph may not be as understanding as I.”

  “I am going to get you for this.” Miguel threatened.

  “I will look forward to it.” Thomas replied. “But it won’t be here. I have a great dislike for science fiction. Put a sword in my hand, the wind at my back and the El Defensor beneath my feet and I am happy. Until another time then?” Thomas turned to leave, moving up alongside his massive rescuer.

  “Let’s get back to the ship as quickly as possible.” Thomas suggested to his bovine friend. “Miguel has many friends. I would rather not be here when he gets out of that grave and gathers his hired muscle.” Horatio started to stir on the floor, his tail curving out sinuously. Rauph responded by smashing the remainder of the laser rifle onto his head, knocking the lizard out cold.

  Thomas slipped and slid along the path towards the exit of the graveyard and only when he felt they had put enough space between him and his adversary did he stop to consider his ruined wardrobe.

  “You know Rowan is never going to let me in my cabin looking like this. I’m going to be in real trouble. I am glad you came after me Rauph, despite my telling you to stay on the ship. Come to think of it, where did you get the hover car from? You know if you had driven it properly, we could have saved ourselves this walk back to the ship.”

  Thomas flung Miguel’s blasters away as far as he could, the weapons sailing off into the lengthening shadows amongst the gravestones. It was all well and good having such futuristic blasters, but once you passed beyond the ship’s graveyard, they ceased to function as anything more exciting than a paperweight with an amusing story behind it.

  “You know.” Thomas turned to his companion, as an afterthought struck. “Those Laser rifles work so much better if you pull the trigger.” Rauph wrinkled his snout in confusion and turned to his captain.

  “Which part was the trigger?”

  The Labyris Knight

  -: Part One :-

  New Adventures,

  Old Foes.

  What truly defines a hero? I inquire,

  Perhaps it’s their skill with a blade?

  Charisma and cunning, do they require?

  Yes! That is how heroes are made.

  To lose this all, a dark twist of fate,

  No treasures or tales to share,

  Haggard souls, twisted by hate,

  A saga of endless despair.

  So, get on your feet, pick up your shield,

  Grit your teeth then let out a cry!

  Don your cloak, never yield,

  And then on your blade rely!

  So that's what defines a hero to be,

  A stalwart who never gives in,

  A knight who will face the tempestuous sea,

  for his lover, his comrades, his kin.

  The Bard of Hampton

  (circa 1452)

  Chapter One

  The Tulip limped slowly into port, towed shamefully behind a kindly fishing boat like a bizarre trophy fish they had captured in their nets and were too embarrassed to display or too desperate to consign to the depths.

  As Kerian sat, dejected, watching the shelter of the rough harbour walls slowly stretching around him and offering his vessel sanctuary, he found that instead of breathing a sigh of relief, he felt confined and crushed. As much by the weight of failure hammering down upon him as the thought of arranging repairs for his ship.

  He looked around at the ships swaying gently in the waters, listened to the rigging clinking softly in the breeze and observed the crews polishing metal, applying fresh paint, off-loading fish or resupplying other vessels. Noticing the camaraderie shown amongst these people made him feel homesick for the El Defensor and her crew. Who would have thought that in such a short time they could have had such a lasting impact on him and become the family he desired?

  Laughter rose from the anglers perched along the sea wall, nudging each other, waking others from afternoon slumbers as his sad vessel lurched through the waters beneath them. Bearded mouths opened in grins, pipes suspended from stilled lips, whilst others paused in mending nets or fashioning lobster pots to join in the mocking welcome of this unusual traveller of the seas. Kerian swallowed hard, then stood up straight, letting the ridicule wash over him, pretending the good-natured jibes had no effect at all, even though inside his rage burned as hot as the sun sinking slowly in the western sky.

  The Tulip shuddered up to the dock and bumped forlornly against its pillars; allowing Kerian to throw her lines up so the dockhands could secure the boat in place. Grabbing his shield and throwing his saddlebags over his left shoulder, Kerian climbed up onto the jetty and thanked the men who had assisted in securing his ship. However, their raised eyes and smirks at seeing him with his saddlebags, led Kerian to believe there would be tales spun in taverns tonight about the idiot landlubber who went to sea in a boat and took saddlebags with him so he knew where to sit.

  “Uh hum!” A throat cleared loudly behind him. The tone delivered in a fashion known worldwide as someone who felt that they were important, when clearly, they were not.

  Kerian took in the old man standing there and tried to hide his irritation. Bushy sideburns and an impressive snowy beard framed his face, whilst upon his tanned forehead he had strands of white hair combed across to try to hide his receding hairline and a pair of spectacles pushed up on his forehead. His nose was red and swollen indicating a man who was happy with spirits as bedside companions after a day’s work. The official wore a faded jerkin covered by a long flowing official
coat of navy blue. Gold braid fraying in several areas denoted rank on his shoulders but Kerian was not interested in local decorum and simply wanted to move things along as swiftly as possible. He could see over to two guards standing at attention within easy distance of their commander’s call but they looked bored and easy to overpower if the situation turned ugly.

  “Welcome to Wellruff.” The man opened. “I am the harbourmaster here. I need your name, where you hail from and more importantly your intended destination. I also need to know your business here, what cargo you carry and how long your stay will be.” He cleared his throat again and lifted a ledger from his side, his quill hovering expectantly over the page as he intentionally furrowed his brow to allow his spectacles to slide down his forehead and perch business-like on the bridge of his nose. “So, do you have anything to declare?”

  “Well rough? Seriously?” Kerian asked and then stopped himself. There was no need to cause trouble at this time if he could avoid it. “There is just myself, what I carry and my vessel.”

  The harbourmaster looked down off the edge of the jetty and frowned.

  “I’m afraid you cannot leave your boat tied up here, especially if she needs repairs. It will need to be moved to the far end of the dock.”

  Kerian looked back at the man before him and raised an eyebrow.

  “As you can see my vessel is in no condition to sail.” He muttered, already realising where this was heading. “Let me save you some time. I need my boat repaired and restocked. How much do I need to give you to ensure this is done speedily and correctly?”

  The harbourmaster shook his shoulders as if the very idea of asking for money was below him, before he chewed on the end of his quill and mentioned a sum that was as ludicrous as it was extortionate.

  “Let me explain this to you.” Kerian bristled. “I will pay you what the job is worth and no more.”

  “I’m sure this is how you do business Mr… Mr?”