The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  The journey across the decks of the wrecked ships had been just the start of this menagerie of horror. Slipping and sliding, climbing and in some cases falling from one ruined hulk to another, following in the skittering steps of a creature that moved like a giant octopus or spider. Miguel had sailed many seas, seen many ships and vessels but even he had been stunned at the scores of ships designs he had witnessed on this journey. Modern collided with ancient. Planes, boats, ships, space capsules. It appeared if a vehicle sailed or flew it could be found somewhere within this conglomeration of decay. It was like a giant scrapyard but instead of hover cars it held ships. Then before Miguel could even begin making sense of the names around him, like the El Gato, Saha Bank, George E Vreeland, Marine Sulphur Queen, they had come upon the ruined cruise liner Neptune.

  His crewman’s foot slapped wetly on the floor, shudders and shivers running up and down Gordon’s form. Miguel swallowed hard and tried to focus on the face of the demonic old man sitting at the head of the table, tried to focus on the soulless cataract-clouded eyes that rolled up in pleasure and found himself imagining the eyes of a great white shark as it was feeding. Indeed, the parallel drawn was intensely accurate, for this creature was feeding too.

  Gordon’s mouth was open wide, his eyes open and bulging in horror. A slim needle-like proboscis had been inserted into his mouth, piercing the palette and penetrating his brain. The attack had been so fast, so traumatic. Miguel replayed the sound of the deadly spear cracking through the bone and breaking whatever trance had been controlling his crewman, leaving Gordon with a split second of terror as he realised that he was being eaten alive. The proboscis was attached to a thin crimson tendril that pulsed at every noisy suck, the contents of Gordon’s brain matter visibly being sucked up the tube to pass over their host’s shoulder and disappear somewhere into the monstrous creature’s back.

  Miguel had wanted to fight back; his crew outnumbered this monster and they could surely have overpowered him but they all appeared to have no idea what was going on. To look at them, it appeared as if they were seated at some great party. They hoisted their hands as if holding invisible tankards, squabbled over imaginary meats and passed exotic dishes that simply did not exist, whilst hanging on every word of their host. When the monster decided to speak between mouthfuls that was!

  The buccaneer had always been quick to fathom out a situation but this one confused him. The monster, now viewed up close, was like a giant jellyfish given human form. His body was indistinct, swirls of dirty white and streaks of smoky jelly made up his abdomen and torso, making it unclear and it was unclear if it was his body or some sort of strange translucent robe he wore. The monster had arms that appeared human, the skin all shrivelled and hanging limp like some of the old women that begged on the streets of Maraket. It also had an aged human head, wizened with tight eye slits as if squinting or if there were some oriental heritage. The gaze through milky white eyes appeared piercing despite looking as if the creature were blind. Slitted nostrils appeared to scent the air whilst the sparse hair upon the horror’s head completed the image of a creature that had apparently been alive for centuries.

  Around their host the air was filled with softly glowing fans that appeared to hover, their colours pulsing bright and dark in patterns Miguel could not follow. The fans opened and closed at various speeds, clicking and clacking, spinning and twirling. Only now that the buccaneer was up closer than he had intended, did Miguel notice each fan was attached to a thin tube that appeared to be growing from the monster’s back. He also noticed how the fans had barbed edges which could be used independently, indeed several had pinned poor Gordon to the floor and to his seat as the monster fed.

  It was like observing the tendrils of those fish that swam in the depths and used colours to lure unexpected prey. Miguel knew the colours had to be stunning, as they held the attention of every other person in the room. Even his lizards, viewing the display through heavily lidded eyes were having problems remaining in control and kept shaking their heads and snorting to clear their noses.

  The only thing disappointing was that the display was lost on Miguel. He could not see what everyone else did because he had been colour blind since a child. Anything with red or green components was difficult to see with clarity. Colours appeared muted or confused, some shades not visible at all.

  Gordon finally gasped his last, the resistance briefly witnessed now fled from the poor man’s form. Miguel gripped the handle of one of his blasters, determined that if the creature came for him, he would give it a fight it wasn’t expecting. However, instead of picking another crewman to feast upon, his host used several of his barbed fans to pick up Gordon’s corpse and throw him to the side of the room, where a pack of ever-attentive black hounds sat waiting, heads up, ears twitching, clearly expecting the scraps of their master’s meal. Miguel fought to contain the explosion of bile that rushed to his throat as the beasts dove on the corpse ripping it limb from limb.

  Where the hell was Thomas when Miguel needed him? What kind of place was this? No wonder Thomas guarded his secrets so closely if this was the kind of person he lived alongside.

  “I am so glad you are all enjoying yourselves in my humble home and partaking of this feast aboard the Neptune.” The creature spoke, a thin smile spreading across his features as his fans continued to open and close.

  Click clack, click clack.

  The crew, still under the unexplained hold of this monster raised phantom flagons and toasted their generous host, cheering wildly.

  “Now you have all eaten,” the monster continued. “I need to ask who you all are and why you were looking for Thomas Adams.” The crew looked lost at the request. Some smiled stupidly, others struggled to swallow mouthfuls of food they only tasted in their addled minds. One man started to cry unsure how to answer the question and apparently distraught he could not respond. Miguel tried not to smile. He never told his crew anything. When he ordered something, they did it, none of them needed to have the particulars. That was the kind of crew he liked.

  “I know I heard one of you mention Thomas Adams name when you first came through the gate.” their host continued, his fans now opening and closing faster, weaving and bobbing, picking up speed as the pastel colours flashed faster and faster along their barbed lengths. “The question remains which one of you was it?” The horror rose to its feet, fans slamming into the deck, giving it stability despite the list of the ship.

  “Now then, someone here must know what I am talking about. Just tell Malum Okubi what he wants to know…”

  Miguel swallowed hard as he watched the monster… Malum, stalk along the opposite length of the table, the fans flickering and swaying like serpents darting between the crew who stood silently, their hallucinatory feast suddenly over.

  “Was it you?” Malum hissed, sniffing loudly, his head slanted to one side, milky eyes staring into space as he towered above one of the mercenaries Miguel had hired. “No… I don’t think so.”

  “You see; Thomas Adams vexes me. I want him to suffer for what he did.” Malum continued as he moved menacingly up to the far end of the table. “I want his ship, I want his crew and most of all I want Thomas, helpless and on his knees before me.” There was a groan of pain as a limb detached from Malum’s back, rising up over his shoulder. Judging by the size of its shattered diameter, this had once been a massive fan, now it was splintered and oozing ichor, clearly infected and causing the creature great pain.

  “Thomas Adams maimed me and I mean to see him hurt as badly.” Malum continued. “I need all of you fine men to help me right this wrong. You see I know where Thomas has gone, I know where he must return and when he does, I will be waiting to trap him. The El Defensor and all upon her shall be mine. I will have my revenge.”

  “We shall do our best to help.” One crewman blubbed. “Just tell us what you want us to do.”

  “I need ropes and chains.” Malum replied. “There are many lying all around
us in the graveyard. I need to fashion a net. I am sure you sailors all understand the best way to catch fish is with a sturdy net and the El Defensor requires the largest net of all.” Malum started his return down the side of the table where Miguel sat. Cornelius snarled in warning and started to draw a curved dagger from his belt. Miguel placed his hand on the creature’s scaled hide and tried to calm him. It was not time to blow their cover yet. Horatio sat flicking his tail in agitation, his face looking as if he were suffering from a dental cavity that his tongue refused to stop probing.

  “I think I should propose a toast.” Malum hissed. “A toast to a successful fishing trip.”

  “Here, here!” shouted one over enthusiastic crewman as they all raised their arms in a toast. Miguel frowned. The man was acting as if he were intoxicated and all he had been consuming was fresh air for goodness sake! This was what he got for hiring cheap labour!

  “If we are going fishing, what shall we use for bait?” another asked wiping his hand across his mouth to remove a spill from his invisible tankard.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Malum hissed, drawing up behind Miguel’s chair and moving in closely to sniff at the horrified buccaneer. “Is there something wrong with your drink?”

  Miguel froze in horror. He had forgotten to toast with the others! One false move had marked his undoing.

  “Nothing.” He whispered his throat suddenly dry. “I’m the designated driver.” Miguel’s eyes opened wide in horror as two fans slid slowly into his view opening and closing with clear menace.

  Click clack, click clack.

  “I don’t think so.” Malum snarled.

  Miguel drew his blaster in a blur of motion, knowing he was the fastest man alive when it came to the quick draw.

  Malum was faster. Fans whirled in snatching his bandolier and throwing him physically down onto the table causing the other crew to scurry swiftly out of the way. The blaster bolt scored the ceiling then fizzled and died in Miguel’s hand as other barbed appendages whirled in spearing through his frock coat and pinning him. Malum reared up over the buccaneer like a monstrous spider, bringing his wrinkled head down to within inches of Miguel’s face.

  “How are you not affected?” Malum asked, his gaunt shrivelled head turning one way and then the other, his nostrils scenting his prey. “Why are you not like the others? Is it magic? Science? Sheer stupidity?”

  “Less of the stupid.” Miguel struggled to free his other hand, somehow trapped under him as he had landed on the table. “I’ll have you know I’m a shrewd businessman.”

  Malum ignored the reply. Intent on trying to find the underlying cause of an enigma he had never encountered before. He moved closer, sniffing, strands of mucus seeping from his nose and eyes, dripping down onto the wriggling form pinned below him.

  “Tell me how you did this?” Malum screamed. “Tell me now or I will extract the information from your brain.”

  Click clack, click clack.

  Miguel’s eyes went wide as he noticed the thin needle coming into view over Malum’s shoulder, its end still dripping part of Gordon’s brain matter. He had no doubts as to where this object was heading.

  “Cornelius, Horatio…” he grunted, panic starting to set in as the needle edged closer to his left nostril. “For pity’s sake boys, what do I pay you for? Get him!”

  “Your lizards cannot help you.” Malum’s mouth split into a grin, rotten caramel coloured stumps of useless teeth serving as little boulders in front of the drool that oozed from the monster’s mouth. “They are under my thrall like the rest of your pathetic crew. There is no escape.”

  “Please not the coat.” Miguel moaned, as the drool dribbled across his shirt. “I only just got the thing cleaned after Thomas messed it up in Maraket. He owes me and I aim to collect!” The thin proboscis needle slid an inch up Miguel’s left nostril preparing to punch forwards and plunge into his brain.

  “So, it was you…” Malum hissed, his appendage suddenly pausing in its exploration of Miguel’s moist body part. “You are the one seeking Thomas. This changes things. We have much to discuss you and I.”

  Miguel sucked in his breath as the fans suddenly stopped and the probe thankfully withdrew, lightly scratching the tip of his nose as it was extracted and drawing a drop of crimson blood. Malum sniffed, leaned in and licked the drop with a disgusting thin, fungus coated tongue.

  “Take a seat and let us talk about old friends.” Malum laughed, emitting a dry rasping sound that made Miguel shudder. “Maybe we can come to a mutual agreement that will benefit us both?”

  Miguel sank back down into his chair, trying to quell the tremors running through his form as Malum moved back towards his seat at the head of the table.

  “Where were you guys?” Miguel hissed, elbowing his two lizard henchmen. “Where were you when I needed you?” Horatio still sat in place snorting and swatting at invisible insects on his thick snout whilst Cornelius licked his nose, his eyelids clicking open and closed as if he had just been dazzled.

  Malum lowered himself back into his chair, threw his head back and laughed before turning to face Miguel. His fans whirled out snatching the nearest crewman from his pleasant world of illusion as the monster prepared to feast.

  “Now from the top.” Malum hissed, ignoring the screams from the man pinned before him as the barbed fans plunged into his writhing form. “Tell me what you know of Thomas Adams.”

  Miguel looked on as the proboscis slammed into the poor crewman’s right eyeball, puncturing the orb and squirting gore across the stained table top. The man thrashed and squealed in terror and pain, desperate to escape or find quarter from a creature that would grant him neither. A loud sucking noise started, reminding Miguel of a child sucking a thick milkshake up a straw and Malum rolled his eyes back in pleasure as he began to consume him.

  The buccaneer turned to one side and was finally, violently sick.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Well this is rather pleasant.” Ives remarked, throwing his arms wide at the large airy room they had been ushered into. “Look at the marble, it is inlaid with gold. The drapes, so sheer and such vivid colours I could make a fortune selling these at home. Oh… And you just have to admire the view!”

  Thomas took in the opulent surroundings of this tranquil scene; the plush furnishings, the pools of water with little fountains situated around the room to reduce the humidity that was building outside but a sense of unease increased within him. He stared at his human companions as he paced, Ives stood out on the balcony filling his face with fruit, sighing contentedly, whilst Weyn lay back on the couch, eyes closed in a rare moment of rest. The injured harbour assistant had been taken to receive medical treatment and Rauph had also been escorted to places unknown, leaving Thomas knowing he would not rest until the fate of his navigator was known.

  “Calm down Thomas.” Weyn said. “I can’t relax with you pacing backwards and forwards.”

  “Come over here.” Ives gestured. “Take in the view. The pyramid is breath-taking from here.” Thomas walked over, hands in his pockets, his right hand nervously stroking the small police cruiser toy car he carried there. The humidity hit him like a solid wall, as he stepped out onto the balcony, instantly causing him to perspire. He stepped over to the marble balustrade and stared out over the magnificence that was Taurean.

  The city spread out below him, elegant walkways radiating down from the upper, more opulent parts of the city, only to slowly deteriorate to narrower winding streets lined with ramshackle shanty shops and leaning homes of the poorer members of Taurean society. Several delicate spans ran out from the island across to the heavily jungled mainland where the ominous pyramid stood, it’s stark silhouette silently brooding above a carpet of multi-coloured hues of green.

  Thomas realised he had a much clearer view of the pyramid from here and an interesting feature had now become apparent from this elevated position. It appeared as if the pyramid was built over a massive maze th
at seemed to run up to its base and possibly under it. Several walls of the labyrinth appeared covered in thick foliage and had the appearance of having been standing for a long time.

  “At least our captors are not philistines.” Ives continued, juice running down his chin. “They seem to be looking after us well.”

  “A gilded cage is still a cage.” Thomas replied. “We have guards at the door and looking at this view we seem to be in the only room in the palace with no apparent way to climb down. I mean look at the thick thorns climbing the wall, the jagged tops of those pillars, the really long drop to the ground where those guards patrol below. There is even a moat with something large slithering around in it.”

  “But the view Thomas!” Ives smiled, ignoring his obviously irritated friend. “Breathe in deep and take in the view.”

  A knock came at the door, causing Weyn to open his eyes and stare as if he expected, by the power of sight alone that the door would open. Ives put the bowl of fruit down on the balustrade, overbalancing a ripe fruit that slipped from the pile, rolled to the edge and plummeted to the ground, shredding its soft pulp on the thorns as it fell, hitting the path with a sickening squelch before something dark and sleek ran from the bushes and devoured it. Thomas followed the fruit’s brutal demise and raised an eyebrow to his jolly colleague, his look saying more than words ever could about their fate if they tried to escape this way.

  “Shall I get the door?” Thomas asked, finishing the conversation before it began. He crossed the room to open the door, just as the knocking started once again, more urgent this time, its intensity shaking the entire frame and vibrating the door wide open to reveal a large minotaur Thomas had never seen before.

  “Um please come in.” Thomas gestured, standing aside to let the hugely muscled short cropped chestnut beast into the room, before flashing a smile at the guards outside and closing the door after him. The Minotaur was impeccably groomed, gleaming horns polished and sharpened to deadly points, short close-cropped chestnut hair emphasising graceful yet strong facial features. Piercing dark brown eyes stared out over a silvery black nose damp with moisture. The Minotaur’s hair between his horns was platted and combed to pass back over the top of his head and down his neck to hang free between his shoulder blades.