However, something had gone wrong. Initially they had believed Mathius had been slain in combat by an aged traveller aboard the ship El Defensor. The headpiece had then somehow malfunctioned, the images it projected lost. When Pelune had all but given up on the possibility of finding his dagger, the headpiece had mysteriously come back to life. Flickering images had shown the treasure trove around her and a titanic battle, ending once again with the headband failing just as the same old man, complete with long white hair and a flowing moustache, had appeared to stab the wearer, ironically with his opponent’s own sword. The remaining images had become confusing, revealing another figure in the treasure room but the last image Justina had identified was when the ancient warrior threw away the serpent artefact, somewhere in this very room. For all she knew the dagger could be bubbling gold beneath her feet but some inner instinct told the sorceress otherwise.
Mathius was still alive and he had the dagger hidden somewhere in this temple. The sorceress was sure of it. He was a man of darkness, cloaked in shadows, now armed with a cursed artefact of evil. Justina had to be cautious, even though it seemed fitting she would catch up with the assassin in this dark and treacherous place. Justina double checked all her magical protections were in place, then hitched up her robes and started to painstakingly work her way up the treacherous slope of coin and hoarded wealth. As her feet touched the liquid metal dripping across the floor, the magical shield instantly cooled it, leaving bright shining footprints that quickly melted and pooled moments after she passed.
The upper corner of the temple looked as if an explosion had occurred there. Several pillars having toppled to the ground, including part of a dividing wall, leaving a flight of naked stairs spiralling to nothing. There had been rooms here once, possibly for priests to get ready for service, maybe living quarters, or classrooms in which to teach or store items of value. Several appeared to have collapsed onto each other, forming a sheltered pit covered by the tumbled masonry.
The delicate remains of gemstones utilized for magical purpose lay scattered thickly at Justina’s feet. Crisp empty shells, like discarded candy pieces, crunched loudly as the sorceress walked purposefully across them. Justina followed the trail, pausing just before the ruins, looking carefully, checking the shadows under the fallen masonry for threats, before she ducked under a huge slab of stone and became one with the darkness.
“Komorabi” Justina muttered, a small gemstone crumbling to dust within a setting on a bracelet at her wrist. A globe of pale light flared into being inches above the sorceress’s palm, following her as she moved into the darkness, banishing the shadows to reveal a small room and a large gilded chair. Something sat slumped in the seat, a charred figure barely human, skin tight and blistered, a face heavily scarred, framed by scorched shoulder length hair. Charred boots burnt breeches and a cloak that actually looked as if it was physically smouldering.
Justina advanced towards the assassin. How could the Raven possibly have survived like this? She took one more inquisitive step, then froze as a warning hiss split the acrid air. Something golden slithered within the man’s lap and it sensed her approach. She watched, fascinated, as the head of a golden snake raised up from the chair and focused its piercing gaze upon the sorceress from a pair of ruby red eyes. A gleaming golden fang eased from the snake’s glittering mouth, dripping venom onto the arm of the chair.
The artefact was here! Practically within her grasp. The sorceress moved closer, fixated by the cursed serpent blade, considering the best approach to scoop the weapon up into her trembling hands. She could order Hamnet to collect the dagger but the power of the unholy relic and the risk of allowing it to fall into the demon minion’s claws was too much of a risk to contemplate. If Justina wanted the relic, she would have to collect it herself. She moved within arm’s reach, focusing intently on the flickering tongue of the animated evil before her, the snake’s golden head swaying from side to side, clearly agitated and preparing to strike, its ruby eyes watching her every move. She was so focused on the cursed blade, she almost missed it when the charred figure holding the weapon moved.
The sorceress stepped back in surprise as the burnt figure turned to look at her with one brown eye open and an out of place cocky grin on his cracked and charred face. She suddenly realised that despite the burns and damaged skin, the face scrutinising her was not that of the Raven. The hair could have been the same length, where it had not burnt away; the headband she had crafted with her own magic clearly rested upon his troubled brow. The magical signature her own, all be it corrupted or broken in some manner she had yet to fathom but this was definitely not the Raven.
The ears gave it away first. Pointed bleeding ears, not human at all. Something from legend. Elven even. Could this be an Elf? The figure groaned as it repositioned itself, skin crackling painfully as the person moved. His hand tightened on the dagger, its coils slithering around his arm as he opened his other eye as if awakening from a long slumber. However, this second eye was not brown like it’s twin. Instead, inside this socket, there glowed an eerie green mist that swirled and eddied. A voice, dry as dust and parched as if from long exposure to the sun suddenly rasped out, startling the sorceress further.
“It is about time you arrived…” the charred figure tried to lick his burnt lips, causing one end to split and bleed before he uttered a throaty laugh. His cracked voice echoed starkly throughout the darkened room, its meaning filled with menace and the promise of exquisite pain.
“Who are you?” Justina asked, her horror and confusion at the evil sitting before her clear. “What have you done with Mathius?”
“I think I’m about well done by now.” the previous first mate of the El Defensor continued, sitting up slowly, as if the effort caused him great pain, before he let his gaze linger on the beautiful woman standing across from him. The golden serpent dagger continued slithering about his wrist, the hilt of the weapon settling comfortably in the palm of his raw blistered hand. Twin blades reflected the light source hovering over Justina’s trembling hand, making the weapon appear cold despite its hellish surroundings.
“My name is Scrave…” the charred figure continued. “And if you had waited any longer, our romantic meal for two would have been spoiled.”
Chapter Six
“We have to go back!” Commagin yelled at Thomas. “We have to go back for my boy!”
“We can’t.” Thomas mumbled, still shocked at discovering they had inadvertently left the Gnome apprentice behind. Thick mist continued to roll across the deck of the El Defensor, the constant roaring sound threatening to drown out every word. Commagin continued to huff and puff, pulling his beard in worry and shouting once again as condensation fogged up his glasses.
“We have to go back. I can’t leave him alone there. Not the ship’s graveyard of all places.”
“I’m sorry but we can’t go back.” Thomas did not know what else to say. He did not know how to explain that they had no more power left to open the gate, let alone pass back through it or hold one open for a rescue attempt. They had no jewels left. Wherever they were now, they would remain here until they could find a more sustainable source of power.
“Get Colette to reopen the gate then, I’ll go through in the dinghy, you need not risk the ship. I’ll be in and out before you know it. No time at all.” Commagin continued, as if he had not heard a word Thomas had told him. “Just give me a chance and I will make it right. I will bring him hom…”
“We can’t!” Thomas shouted, bringing the engineer’s ramblings to an abrupt and hurtful stop. “We just can’t alright! We don’t have the means.” The whole ship appeared to freeze in place as the captain uttered the fateful words confirmed the apprentice’s abandoned fate.
“We would have found a way for you!” The Dwarf replied. “No matter what the cost or risk… we would have found a way for you.” His barbed words fell on Thomas with a venom that knocked the captain back on his heels. Commagin tore the apron fro
m Rowan’s hand and stomped away across the deck, his shoulders trembling as tears started to fall.
Thomas looked around at the silent crew, hands open wide, his posture trying to convey his innocence as water dripped from the end of his nose. The captain could not help but view the looks aimed at him as hostile, not only because of the loss of Barney but also the grisly end of Monahan.
“What are you all looking at?” he snapped, looking each crewman in the eye and daring them to find fault. One by one, the sodden crew dropped their gaze and moved away until Thomas found himself standing isolated, alone on the mid-deck. Rowan came over, her eyes sorrowful, brimming with understanding but Thomas wanted no pity.
“Please check on Commagin.” He asked, waving her after the departing Dwarf. “He is the one that needs company at this time.”
“And what about you?” Rowan questioned. “What about the mighty Thomas Adams?”
“The crew remain my priority.” He bristled, turning on his heel to walk towards the stern of the ship, intent on checking on Rauph and determined to see if Weyn could cast a light on their situation from his high vantage point in the crow’s nest.
Rowan watched Thomas set off through the drizzle and shook her head. Where had the fun-loving police officer she had known in Stratholme gone? It was as if she was looking at a different man, all stern, cold and stretched to absolute breaking point. His intensity was unsettling, as if violence brewed just beneath the surface. Something was wrong with him. Something had been clearly playing on his mind ever since he became upset in his cabin shortly after they left Stratholme. Was it her? Had she done something wrong?
Ever since she had found him distressed, staring blankly into his desk drawer at a collection of small mementos, gathered to remind him of lost members or departed crew, he had been distant. Maybe it was because she had witnessed him so vulnerable? Thomas had refused to explain what was causing his concerns, leaving her with nothing to do but hold and reassure him but from that watershed moment, he had spiralled into the troubled man she now saw before her. She needed to figure out what was going on before his dark unpredictable temperament tore them apart.
Rowan set off after the Dwarven engineer, her mind full of self-doubt and insecurity. Thomas did not seem to understand that she was still a stranger on this ship, often feeling the crew only permitted her presence because she was the captain’s companion and not because she had won her right to be here. She bit her lip, holding her hands tightly in fists and marched off to do Thomas’s bidding, cursing his lack of compassion and understanding towards her.
* * * * * *
Thomas reached the main mast and stared up into the waterlogged heavens where he knew Weyn would be scanning for dangers in… well, wherever they were.
“Weyn can you see anything up there.” He shouted over the roar.
“I wish to lodge a complaint with your superior,” replied a disembodied voice from the mist. “I simply must object to the fact that I am always interrupted when I am having a shower. Do you have no decency?”
“Pack it up Weyn!” Thomas shouted back, still feeling thunderous in mood, yet finding it hard to keep this sombre outlook when someone like Weyn still managed to find a way to bring a smile to his face. He took a deep breath recognising the need to calm his negative emotions and move forward. “Give it to me sensibly please!”
“Oh, well, it’s either monsoon season, or we are docked under a waterfall.” The archer replied, “I can’t see anything, apart from billowing white clouds and something darker ahead slightly to starboard, over where the ballista fired.”
Thomas turned to look towards the prow and just found himself facing a pale wall of rolling grey mist that appeared to stretch on forever. This was ridiculous! They needed more information on where they were and sitting here was not going to achieve this.
“Aradol,” Thomas yelled. “Take Austen and the dinghy and retrieve that grappling line. Weyn states there is something out there. I want you tied to that line at all costs. Do you hear me? No heroics. I don’t need you getting lost in the mist and adding to my problems.” Aradol nodded, gesturing to Austen before they set about lowering the dinghy into the water and moved to do their captain’s bidding.
Colette strolled over to Thomas, flipping her hair back, the blonde locks suddenly curly with all the moisture in the air. The mage met Thomas’s troubled gaze and matched it with her own sad disheartened one.
“What have we done Thomas?” she asked. “What have we done?”
“What you had to do.” Mathius replied for them both, walking up to the two conspirators and shrugging as he did so. “The rest of the crew always come first. No individual crewman is worth risking the lives of everyone else for. It may not be an easy idea to stomach but it was the right call to make.”
“I was caught off guard.” Thomas confessed. “Malum has never tried anything like this before.”
“So, you were caught unprepared.” Mathius continued. “Unprepared and not ready for the storm you sailed into. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“We need to get more gems.” Colette added. “We cannot let ourselves be left without power again. Wherever we are, this must be our priority.”
“No…” Thomas replied. “Our priority is taking the fight to Malum.”
“It’s a plan.” Mathius replied but you must consider the fact he is currently one step ahead of us and when we travel back through that archway, the chances are, he will be waiting.”
“The gemstones are our priority! Not some petty revenge on Malum.” Colette shook her head angrily, blond curls bouncing.
“Oh, I guarantee you my revenge will be anything but petty.” Thomas promised.
* * * * * *
Oars cut cleanly through the water as Aradol leant to the task of following the ballista line out into the mist. Austen stood at the back of the boat, legs wide, sliding a large looped safety line along the taut rope they followed.
“Where are we going?” he asked the young man rowing.
“To the end of the line.” Aradol replied, grinning as he pulled the oars again, his muscles straining tightly against his shirt. “I must confess I have never been there myself but I understand that we all need a vacation from time to time.”
“I thought we were already there,” Austen replied, ignoring the feeble comedy attempt and gesturing back towards the ship, his grizzled seaman’s face deep in thought. “For a moment there I thought we really were at the end of the line. I’m not cut out for this. I just want to look after my hawks and have a quiet life.”
“Not with Thomas Adams at the helm.” Aradol replied, full of confidence at his captain’s ability to see them through any tough scrape. “I mean look at all the narrow escapes we have had in the past. We always make it through no… matter… what. What are you looking at?”
Austen gestured behind Aradol in the direction they were rowing, his eyes moving slowly upwards, then further as he took in the incredible image materialising behind the young rower.
“Stop rowing,” he stated breathlessly. “You need to see this.”
Aradol lifted the oars free from the water, letting the dinghy glide forward under its own momentum and turned to see what his fellow sailor was so fascinated with.
“Well would you look at that…” he said breathlessly.
* * * * * *
The El Defensor cleaved her way through the wall of mist like a shark through water, her prow breaching the cloudbank so suddenly, that her appearance startled a flock of purple flamingos into taking flight from a nearby sandbank, squawking their annoyance loudly for all to hear. The galleon emerged as a ghostly vision suddenly made real, her creamy white sails snapping tight as she picked up the wind moving across the crystal-clear dark blue water, launching her forwards like a stallion released to the wild, eager to race and gallop free.
The early morning sunshine warmed the wind as it whistled through the rigging, lifting the s
pirits of everyone aboard as they strained to see the object that had caused so much awe in Aradol and Austen’s tale. As soon as their eyes lit upon the immense statue, everyone aboard could see why the two men had returned to the galleon so excited.
It was immense, soaring high into the sky, standing well in excess of two hundred feet tall. She stared out across the water in constant vigil, a sentinel guarding the waters from invaders. A huge waterfall backlit the statue, enhancing its majesty and reinforcing its powers of intimidation. The foaming water thundering down from a precipice easily half the size again of the towering construct at its base, the deluge creating the constant billowing cloud from which the El Defensor had appeared.
Skirts of cast bronze flowed down like a toga, clothing the tall regal form and leaving one shoulder bare. A large oval shield sat at her feet, set deep into the water with just the top half exposed above the waves crashing around its weathered surface. A spear rose to the heavens, the shaft wider than a tree trunk, the female guard holding the spear tightly in her left hand, whilst she shaded her eyes with the right, further reinforcing the guardian image the statue conveyed. A war helmet, complete with a raised feather crest and horns set on either side completed the immense structure, with small birds wheeling about her head from nests dotted on her brow, raised hand and shoulders.
Thomas took in the incredible sight, holding his breath without realising it. From his current vantage point the jaw of the statue looked too wide but it was difficult to make out details until the El Defensor had sailed further away. With this in mind, the captain’s eyes started to trace the land either side of the waterfall, looking for signs of civilisation, a place to dock and resupply.
The Labyris Knight Page 11
