The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  "Son," he opened. "There is no trawler over there, just the archways and a long chain. The chain has us stuck. We have no choice but to sever the chain. I am too old to do it. That leaves you. The crew are counting on you. I'm counting on you."

  "But the trawler is over on the other side of the ship." Barney tried desperately to explain.

  "Exactly," Commagin replied. "And the chain is over here!" He slapped the bolt cutters into Barney's hand. "Jump to it lad." The little apprentice swallowed hard, his head turning back to regard the rail behind him, where he knew the trawler lay and then ahead at the thick chain marked by flotsam and spume from the force of the current swirling by.

  "But..." his voice was almost shrill this time.

  "No more arguing." Commagin glared over his glasses, almost daring his apprentice to try his patience further. "The chain... now!"

  Barney shrugged his shoulders in resignation, then handed over his apron to Rowan to prevent his tools getting wet. Hanging his head, he allowed Commagin to boost him up over the rail. The apprentice commenced slipping and sliding his way slowly down the side of the El Defensor’s hull, picking his slick hand and footholds with care, determined to show his mentor that he was capable of the task at hand. As Barney neared the waterline and tried to figure out his way onwards, Commagin lowered the bolt cutters down to him on a line.

  “Now don’t mess this up.” Commagin yelled down, peering over his glasses at his terrified apprentice. “Get it done quick and then hop back here sharpish.”

  The ballista fired again, the grappling line shooting through the arch into the swirling mist. This time when they drew in the slack the line held, fastened onto something the crew could not see. A roar of triumph arose from amidships as spare hands leapt to the task of pulling on the line to help the El Defensor inch forwards towards safety. The chain rose up out of the water as the tension upon it increased, bouncing Barney in and out of the foam and making him splutter as he proceeded to move hand over hand. At the helm Rauph continued to wrestle with the wheel, intent on freeing the chain with his firm movements but it steadfastly refused to turn, despite his best efforts.

  Thomas battered the hull of his galleon in despair. His crewman was slipping away before his eyes, head lolling, drool hanging from his mouth, no longer showing his pain as the two vessels continued to grind against each other. The efforts of captain and crew were getting nowhere. Thomas turned to survey the trawler, considering accessing its helm as a means of freeing his wounded crewman. He left his sailors valiantly trying to save their friend's life, slipping and sliding across the slick deck, his passage made the more treacherous by the lengths of rotting netting strewn across his path.

  The excited howls of the approaching Scintarns were becoming an annoyance now, in some respects Thomas just wished they would hurry up and get here so he could take out his frustration on the horrific creatures. He stepped over a length of rusting chain and started to make his way down the side of the fishing vessel intent on accessing the main cabin, one foot slipped from beneath, threatening to send him tumbling into the water but somehow, he regained his footing and slithered onto the main deck, finally examining the trawlers steering. The wheel was smashed to pieces, there was no way the helm could function from here.

  A loud cackling taunt called out across the wrecks, freezing Thomas in mid-examination. He stuck his head out from the shelter on the main deck, trying to hear better and noted the flickering lights dancing across the wreckage towards his ship. Malum was coming. The captain could not help but shiver at the thought. They needed to get free and now.

  Thomas moved back out onto the deck, suddenly wishing to return to his men, his hand dropping to the cutlass at his side. He knew the weapon held an enchanted edge and although it pained him to consider it, amputation may be the only option he now had available for his injured crewman. He moved to step over the chain then stopped. The chain... the solution had been staring him in the face all this time! He examined how the massive links were secured to the wooden remnants of the mast and considered trying to chop the chain or the mast. His sword was sharp enough to cut deeply into his desk, so why not through these? The mast was the thinner of the two making it the obvious candidate for his swing.

  He spread his legs wide, trying to compensate for the movement of the ship and swung his blade as hard as he could. The trawler dropped suddenly sending the swing wide and it hit the coil of chain with a shower of sparks and cutting a bright groove in the thick metal. Thomas withdrew his cutlass, cursing loudly and moved to swing again, when a low growl froze him in his tracks. He spun towards the sound, coming face to face with the drooling mouth and glistening fangs of a Scintarn hound.

  The creature was eight feet long, from the tip of its swaying barbed tail, along the bony armoured frill of black flint extending up its back running the entire length of the sleek ebony terror. The fur on the creature was short, accentuating the hackles currently raised upon its back. The hound’s erect ears continually twitched, searching for the slightest of sounds. The paws of the creature were like those of a big cat, with claws allowing the monster to scale heights in search of prey, whilst its heavily muscled back legs permitted it to leap sizeable distances across the decks of the ships on which it hunted.

  Further gleaming armoured frills ran above both of the creature’s eyes, shadowing the pupils beneath, making them more terrifying and chilling to behold. Bared teeth allowed saliva to drip to the deck from a moist blood red maw.

  “Where the hell did you come fro…”

  The hound lunged, teeth snapping inches from Thomas’s throat. The captain stepped back, his feet unsteady on the slick deck, swinging his cutlass up between the brute and himself purely to stop it from continuing forward and throwing him off balance. The steel of his blade sparked off the frill of the Scintarn, catching it on the tip of its snout, making the hound blink in surprise.

  “Back off mutt!” Thomas snapped, trying to regain his bravado by slapping his cutlass first on one side of the creature’s head and then the other. He stamped on the deck then lunged forward, the tip of the cutlass catching the hound on its ear. The Scintarn yelped in surprise then snarled menacingly before leaping forwards, pushing the cutlass up between them, this time allowing Thomas no chance to angle the blade and use it for his benefit. Teeth flashed and slobber flew as the beast contemplated a warm meal for the first time in days.

  Thomas grunted under the weight of the hound as its snout angled in first one way and then another, desperate to sink its fangs into his flesh. He briefly considered asking himself what Malum was feeding his hounds, then realised with a cold finality that he already knew. Anyone sailing through these gateways suffered the same fate. All these ruined ships had been manned with food. All Malum had to do was sit, wait and let the food come to him, kicking, screaming, struggling and ultimately succumbing to his hunger, much like the prey of a bloated spider struggling in a silken web.

  A wicked claw caught his trouser leg, as the hound dropped back down onto the deck, making the captain pull himself back shocked. His foot slipped again, dropping him onto his knee, forcing Thomas to parry furiously, slapping the wider edge of his blade backwards and forwards fiercely to prevent the Scintarn from gaining advantage as it charged forwards sensing his vulnerability. The beast jumped back, then lunged forward again maw open wide, teeth slicing through the air, only to come up short as Thomas met the lunge in kind, his cutlass thrusting right into the creature’s mouth. The Scintarn wailed in pain but could not stop its forward motion, the point and edge of the enchanted weapon slicing deeply into the roof of the hound’s mouth before finally piercing its canine brain.

  Several arrows streaked through the air from the crow’s nest of the El Defensor slamming down into the hound making it quiver as the golden black shafts of Weyn’s arrows hit home. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief as the creature dropped, its tail thrashing about on the green deck in its death throws but falling well short
of its intended prey. More howls filled the air as several other Scintarns appeared along the decks of the closest wrecks, jumping excitedly along the rail, considering if they could make the jump from their vantage points over onto the slippery trawler like their canine brother.

  The captain took the moment to check his leg where the Scintarn’s claw had scored his flesh and rubbed the wound vigorously, noting the four stark marks on his pale leg and the wounds they had caused. He would need to see to this quickly, the last thing he wanted was infection to set in. He pushed his trouser back into his boot then withdrew his cutlass from the hound’s mouth with a satisfying squelch.

  Curses snatched Thomas back to his crew at the aft of the trawler and he set off back towards them, then caught himself, realising that he still had the chain to deal with. What was wrong with him today? He needed to focus! The chain needed to be cut free. His cutlass flashed through the air, once, twice and then again, wooden splinters raining on the deck as the cutlass edge bit deeply into the rotting mast without dulling the blade in the slightest. The wood split under his furious attentions, before parting with an audible crack, sending it crashing to the deck and then over the side.

  “Thomas Adams!” screamed an ancient voice. “I’m coming for you!” The captain instinctively looked over onto the nearest shipwrecks, towards the source of the sound and noticed the flashing lights of his nemesis swiftly approaching. He knew that in moments he would hear the click clack of the barbed fans whirling around the monster’s body, the colours of the fans flickering and flashing in complex visual patterns that hypnotised prey leaving them defenceless to attack.

  “Not if I can help it!” Thomas replied. It was time to go. The corroded chain started to uncoil from the severed mast like a huge metallic snake, whipping across the deck and crashing over the side into the water. The trawler, suddenly free from its restraints, started to bob in the current, causing cries of rejoicing followed by further cursing and scrabbling as the crew realised the ships were starting to drift apart.

  Thomas looked over at the men struggling to pull Monahan up, only to witness the unconscious man slipping further down between the parting ships. The captain sheathed his cutlass and ran to assist, struggling to remain balanced. He slid to a stop beside desperate men who were trying to hold the wounded sailor but every time that they lifted his limp frame, he slipped down again. Thomas struggled to assist but as every moment passed, fewer and fewer hands remained free to help as the distance between the ships grew greater. The crew found themselves with no option but to pull themselves up the side of the El Defensor or find themselves suffering the same watery fate as their injured colleague.

  Ten hands became four, then two, with Thomas leaning far over the side of the trawler, frantically trying to grab Monahan’s slick, blood-soaked form but he could not maintain his grip and the sailor dropped further down the hull of the trawler, his ruined leg dragging through the murky waters. The current, however weak, was enough to make the sailor’s weight increase as he slipped up to his waist in the water.

  “God damn you!” Thomas yelled at the unconscious man. “Don’t you dare give up on me.”

  “Thomas grab my hand!” shouted a calm voice. The captain instantly knew it was Mathius but had no idea that the man was leaning out as far as he could on his safety line, his hands outstretched for Thomas to grab hold and be hauled to safety. The trawler continued slipping further away, making Thomas grunt with the effort of hanging on to Monahan. He instinctively knew he was seconds from overbalancing. Several thuds landed on the trawler behind him, the weight of the stalking hounds sending vibrations through the hull.

  “Thomas, there are four hounds coming. I am tethered to the ship and cannot come to help you. You need to grab my hand now.” The captain swallowed hard, facing a stark choice. Hold Monahan and face the hounds. Risk falling into the sea with his crewman and dealing with the monsters in the depths, or face the unthinkable. There was only one solution.

  “I’m sorry.” Thomas whispered, tears forming in his eyes. “I cannot hold you any longer.” He let the man go, the very nature of the action a betrayal against everything the captain held dear. Monahan slipped into the water and was immediately snatched away.

  Thomas felt Mathius grab his shoulder and arm and then he was swinging free, his own feet slipping into the waters. Other hands grabbed and assisted Thomas back onto the El Defensor, the captain’s spirit broken. Another crewman lost. Each death an invisible weight that crushed Thomas more than he dared admit. The despondent looks from the men around him reinforcing his sense of failure.

  The galleon shuddered as the huge chain snaked through the rudder, finally freeing the ship, allowing her to start a slow turn towards the open archway and the billowing mists as the crew below decks hauled hard on the ballista line. Rauph nursed the helm, directing the mighty ship away from the nightmare they were in. Roars from the crew suggested the relief felt by all as the El Defensor finally slid through the ancient stone arch, under the crackling magical energies wrapped around the pillars and on into the cloaking mists.

  The captain felt his eyes torn towards the line of ship wrecks where a spidery form leapt on a figure caught in the water. Fans clicked and lunged repeatedly into the corpse, blood jetting into the air as the monster Malum took out his frustration on the sailor’s still form, displaying his sense of failure in letting the El Defensor slip through his grasp.

  Thomas turned from the scene with a sinking heart. He knew they now faced a potentially greater problem. When they had travelled through the graveyard previously, Malum had no idea where they had gone, or through which archway they had passed. By anchoring shipwrecks, he had reduced their choices to a few select gateways rather than the unlimited destinations the ship’s graveyard normally offered. Malum now had an advantage. He knew where they were and Thomas realised that it was likely he would be waiting for them when they returned from wherever the fates took them this day.

  The gateway shuddered then slammed shut, plunging the galleon and her crew into a world with no definition, no indicators, just the thin life line of the grappling hook securing the ship to something unseen in the mist. The continuous roaring sound surrounded them all, as the air, heavy with moisture, soaked them through to the skin. Thomas took a deep breath, not realising that he had been holding it. He needed to be a captain again, brush his insecurities away until he could examine them in the comfort of his own cabin. He turned from the gateway and looked towards his crew, trying to decide what needed to be done first.

  “Drop anchor!” he shouted. There was no point in feeling their way blindly in this mist. They could be anywhere and could risk grounding again. “Take depth readings. Set a watch. Weyn, can you see anything up there.”

  “Not even my own hand!” came the disembodied reply.

  Thomas listened as the anchor rattled through its port and dropped with a crash into the water beneath. The ship continued forward, then ground to a halt, this time at the wishes of the captain and her crew. A slight smile touched the corners of Thomas’s mouth. They still lived, they had managed to sail through the graveyard with minimal losses. He stopped in mid-congratulation when he noticed Rowan holding Commagin tightly, Barney’s apron hanging forlornly in her hand.

  Chapter Five

  The market place was still a hive of activity by the time Kerian made it out of the jail cell to relative freedom. Octavian had been right about the length of their temporary incarceration; with no evidence to hold them, the guards had finally elected to release the two bruised inmates with a stern warning that they would be under intense scrutiny over the next few days and in serious trouble if they caused any more disturbances. Octavian had slipped away into the shadows with a smile and a cocky wave, leaving Kerian free to chase his lost possessions.

  His heart beat anxiously in his chest as he entered the cobbled market, his eyes darting about as the sights, sounds and smells of the commercial centre of Wellruff enveloped h
im. Lantern light gave the stalls a feeling of something from the pages of an illustrated fairy tale, enhancing or transforming the facial features of stall holders, casting flickering shadows over mysterious merchandise, heavily discounted now that the frantic trading of the day was drawing to a close. Smells appeared enhanced, the scent of sizzling meats and roasting nuts mixing with the heady scent of dried herbs left out in the heat of the earlier day.

  Kerian noted the clientele had changed too. You had to look closely but the signs were there for a trained eye to see. The clothes worn by these nocturnal browsers appeared ragged, out of style by years, or ill fitting. Money was a luxury to these people and it showed in their faces when they managed to obtain a bargain, their eyes shining brightly as they turned with their prizes to scuttle off into the darkness and back to the hovels from which they came. Darker shadows lingered in the corners, intercepting food from the weaker bargain hunters as they tried to leave the market area, with passers-by ignoring the dull blows and frustrated tears that inevitably followed. Street urchins darted from stall to stall, little hands fishing for treats and unguarded coin.

  Swiftly moving to the alleyway where he had first seen Octavian take his beating, Kerian took in the amounts of damp straw that had been scattered over the sluiced down cobbles and his heart sank. He thought back to the same scene earlier in the afternoon, remembering where the bodies had lain. His first thought was to move to where the guards had hit him but despite kicking the straw this way and that and then physically removing the debris scattered on the ground, there was no sign of his lost pendants. After wrestling with a large barrel to see if his pendants had fallen behind it, Kerian had to admit that his loss could not have occurred here. Not unless whoever cleaned the cobbles down had picked the pendants up. What if a random passer-by had found them? They could be anywhere by now! He did not intend to accept this scenario, because admitting this painful possibility meant giving in to his old enemy, despair.