The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  “Where did Ives go?” Mathius shouted, gesturing towards the tree, an unexplainable sense of panic rising in his chest. “Aradol go and check where he is. Marcus…” The assassin turned only to find Marcus was no longer at his side.

  “Marcus?”

  “Up here.” The monk replied, drawing Mathius’s gaze upwards to where the monk was picking his way up one of the gnarled tree trunks. “You know these trees look all wet and slimy but they are actually quite dry when you touch them.”

  “Marcus, please get down from there.”

  “I will in a minute, just let me get the orchid. It’s just above my head.”

  * * * * * *

  Aradol arrived at the tree where Ives had sat, cursing the mud now splattered liberally across his armour. This was going to take ages to clean. He looked at the seat and noted the dust motes twinkling in the air around the edge of a hole shaped exactly like the rear end of the merchant he knew so well.

  “I knew you were putting on weight.” The young warrior laughed. “But I never thought you would be able to break a tree with your mighty backside!”

  “Please help me up.” Ives spluttered from down inside the trunk of the tree. “The wood must have been rotten or something.” The merchant struggled to turn around and finally got up to poke his head back through the hole where he grabbed the edge only for it to crumble away in his hands, causing more hilarity from Aradol.

  “It’s not funny.” Ives snapped. “This wood is completely brittle. Its…” The merchant paused, looking at the piece of tree trunk in his hand and noting the unmistakable shape of scales that made up the material he held in his hand. This did not make sense. If the merchant did not know better, he would have assumed that he was holding the sloughed skin of some huge sn…”

  * * * * * *

  Commagin narrowed his eyes, setting his sights along the barrel of his crossbow as he noticed the unmistakable shape of several Minotaur silhouettes back along the trail, drawing their weapons and advancing swiftly in his direction. It appeared they were no longer content just to follow the party, their intent for harm was now clear.

  “Come to Daddy.” he purred. “Just one step closer…” The Dwarf waited as one Minotaur trooper moved into the line of fire, then gently pulled the trigger and felt the satisfying thwack of the crossbow as it jumped in his grasp, the quarrel slicing through the air only to miss its intended target completely.

  “What?” The engineer could not believe it. His aim had been perfect. How could he have possibly missed? He peered back along his sight and lined up the grooves to ensure his next shot would be true. The Minotaur were so stupid they had not even noticed his missed shot. This should have been like shooting chickens in a henhouse.

  He breathed in and then let it out slowly, preparing to pull the trigger once again. The tree shuddered beneath him, sending a second quarrel whistling off into the foliage but this time the troops noticed and immediately dived for cover, returning fire as they advanced towards the Dwarf, arrows slamming into the trembling deadfall. Commagin flinched in surprise, stepping away from the moving tree only to crash into Rauph’s legs.

  “Careful.” Rauph warned, lightly pushing the Dwarven engineer back towards the fallen tree, unaware of his colleague’s worrying discovery. Commagin dug in his heels, pushing back into his friend as the tree they had been using for cover slowly rose from the floor, showering the area with mud and wriggling bugs.

  * * * * * *

  Leaping up for the platform, Weyn was aware of the shouts of concern raised behind him but remained confident his colleagues would manage to deal with whatever it was. His fingers gripped inside a natural crevice in the trunk of the tree as he struggled to pull himself up towards the top of the unusual tree crown. The archer had never felt so alive! He was going to show everyone just how good he was. The Death’s Head orchid was almost in his grasp. He gazed at the bright red flower, the bulbous slipper shape of the strange alien bloom, the reservoir of collected nectar inside the folds of the exotic plant and the wiry antenna that rose from its tips.

  Weyn never saw where the arrow came from that slammed into his outstretched arm. One minute he was reaching for the orchid, the next he was screaming in pain and his right arm was pinned to the trunk of the tree. His legs shot from underneath him in shock, dropping his full weight onto the arrow, causing the archer to scream even louder. The tree moved with an ominous creak and a part of the tree bark opened to reveal a large reptilian eye that stared at him with undisguised malice.

  The archer could not believe what he was seeing. It had to be the pain causing him to hallucinate. He struggled to grab a firmer handhold deeper in the crevice, desperate to take some of the strain from his arm, only to feel the crack inexplicably widen and a waft of fetid air escape. Weyn looked on in horror as a huge mouth split apart, revealing row upon row of razor-sharp teeth and a flickering tongue.

  Yells of alarm rose from the ground as the entire copse of trees began to shake and sway. Arrows pierced the air, slamming into the moving trees and peppering the ground around the heroes.

  Weyn’s grip slipped and he found himself crying out as agonising pain coursed through his arm. The archer found himself thrown about like a rag doll, as the creature he was attached to, shook its head, trying to dislodge him from his position and flip him up into its open mouth. A long tongue flickered out and licked the archer, probing him as if he were a crumb of food waiting to be consumed. Weyn was unable to fall free, due to the hunting arrow pinning him to the monster’s jaw. He could only scream as the wet tongue slipped across his skin, raising welts on his face where it touched.

  A loud roar resounded through the air as more of the undergrowth started tearing up all around the clearing, showering muck and filth as several areas of foliage animated and the Nirschl became fully awake.

  Rauph stood in the middle of it all, watching in disbelief as each tree trunk opened reptilian eyes initially mistaken as simple knots in the wood. What they had assumed as dangling vines proved to be the shaggy manes of the creatures and the deep cracks in the trunks transmuted into open maws dripping with venom. As the monsters extricated themselves from the mire, the Navigator had just enough time to understand that every trunk was connected and all of these swaying heads were one gigantic beast, before he set his feet, drew his swords and prepared to do what Rauph did best:

  Slay monsters.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was the constant sound of moaning that first alerted Octavian that he was still alive. He opened his mouth, inhaled, sucking in some loose sand and set off a coughing fit that made his head ring. The gypsy sat up carefully, allowing the corridor in his view to slowly level out before he gently touched his head and found his hand coming away sticky from the congealed blood of a wound.

  What in the hell had just happened?

  Did he dream this or did Kerian actually attack him when his guard was down? Octavian furrowed his brow in confusion and felt a dull throb at his temple. He supposed Kerian had every right to get upset when he had found out about the pendant but that was all water under the proverbial bridge by now. They had moved on, saved each other’s lives more times than he could count. Surely, Kerian would not throw their friendship away on one simple piece of jewellery?

  Realisation flooded in. The pendant… It had dropped into the satchel he had been wearing around his neck. Fighting a wave of nausea, he looked down over his travel-stained clothing and confirmed that his bag was absent.

  Kerian had stolen his satchel and the ransom contained within. Octavian’s heart sank. After all this time, all the efforts required to try to gain the riches needed to rescue his family, he was left with nothing.

  No, not nothing! There was still the treasure packed away in Dorian’s packs. Octavian lifted his head and stared around the corridor, taking in the restless shape of his stallion and nothing else, no Dorian the donkey, or for that matter Kerian or Toledo. Where had they gone?
>
  The constant moaning reminded Octavian of where the corridor remained blocked with the corpse of the golden sentinel. There was no way Kerian could have ever got both animals over the corpse, so he had to have left by another way. The giant’s body shifted slightly, causing the gypsy to step back, before he noted another shift equally as small. Whatever creatures were groaning on the far side, they were attempting to remove the obstacle and come after him.

  The gypsy staggered towards his mount, patting the creature to reassure it that he was near before realising that his saddlebags had gained a few extra items. Water skins and food, Kerian had not left him high and dry after all. He found a note tucked into the saddle, and pulled it free, struggling to read the angry charcoal strokes in the low light.

  ‘I have left you some supplies, so you have a chance of getting back to civilization alive. It is more than you deserve. Look after yourself Octavian for It appears this is what you are best at.’

  “He never even signed the note.” Octavian muttered to himself.

  The giant corpse shifted a few more inches, easier this time, signifying the creatures on the other side were literally getting to grips with the situation. Octavian found his head spinning again. He felt quite sick.

  The gypsy turned his attention to his mount and untied the creature before carefully examining the corridor. A thin stream of light appeared to be coming in through the wall at the far end. Octavian walked his stallion over to investigate and noted a cleverly disguised doorway that would have been almost impossible to see unless you had an inkling it was there. He pushed against the stone, feeling it grate across the floor, opening it wider to permit a small drift of sand to slide into the corridor, along with a blast of heat and a spear of blazing sunlight that flooded the passageway with painful illumination.

  All Octavian could do was close his eyes tightly and allow the feelings of nausea to pass as his eyes slowly adjusted to the sunlight. It felt like he had been underground for an eternity. The gypsy shaded his eyes with his hand and stared down at the shifting sands at his feet, noting the slowly filling depressions marking where Kerian and the two animals had passed. His eyes followed the trail, marking how it weaved between two lop-sided stone obelisks before passing over a small rise and out of sight.

  To his left, two large crimson scorpions darted backwards and forwards across the facial features of a fallen statue, their claws locked in combat, tails held high dripping with venom. High above, an eagle soared across a faultless sky of cornflower blue, crying out to let the world know of its passing. The terrible sandstorm that had earlier threatened their lives now appeared to be nothing but a faded memory.

  Octavian fought the impulse to simply follow the trail, his mind undecided as to whether he should pursue Kerian and regain the bag, or simply strike out on his own but with the sun high in the sky it was hard to get his bearings and decide in which direction it was best to go. He looked behind him at the cool shadowy corridor and noticed the unmistakable shape of shuffling corpses staggering towards him. Somehow, the creatures had managed to move the giant’s corpse aside and were now in active, if somewhat shambolic pursuit.

  The gypsy put his shoulder to the stone door and started to push, grunting under the effort as it pushed up the sand along its bottom edge and added stubborn resistance to his efforts. He dug his feet in, feeling the sand sliding away beneath his boots as he struggled to close the opening. The door inched ever closer and Octavian breathed a sigh of relief, when several gnarled and bandaged hands pushed through, clutching at the air, the moans of their owners made all the louder due to the closeness of Octavian’s head to the door.

  It took a moment of sinking dread for Octavian to realise that there appeared to be no way of holding the door closed. He knew then he had no choice but to run, or simply be overwhelmed by the weight of bodies pushing from the other side.

  He pushed one last time, noting the satisfying crunch as several brittle fingers sheared off in the gap, then ran for his horse, gripping the reins and swinging himself up into the saddle, just as the first few decaying mummies stumbled out onto the searing sand. Octavian felt his stallion leap forwards beneath him, as he dug in his heels, picking up speed to first canter, then gallop across the desert. He rode beneath the two obelisks before cresting the rise to reveal the sight of hundreds of deserted ruins partially engulfed in sand, stretching away as far as the gypsy could see. Kerian’s tracks led off ahead and Octavian gave a resigned shrug of his shoulders when he realised his horse was already following them.

  A mournful sound came from behind the rider, making him pull back sharply on the reins, turning his mount to stare back over the desert, to locate the source of the cry. Shifting dunes formed the horizon below the blazing orb of the sun that shone down onto the half-buried lost city of Tahl Avan. Husks of buildings, some worn down to skeletal structures, rose from the sands like ghosts, their beauty eroded by time and weather. For a second Octavian wondered what it would have been like to live in this wondrous place all those years ago, a moment shattered as two mummies staggered over in his direction.

  His mount shifted beneath him, anxiously pacing as it noted the monsters shuffling towards it but Octavian ignored the horse’s agitation, focusing on a disturbance far away across the ruins. He stood up in his stirrups to gain a better view. A battalion of soldiers appeared to be streaming down the dunes and attacking something within the lost city.

  Skirmishes appeared to have broken out in several places, with golden figures fighting the soldiers to stop them gaining entry to the sacred halls of Tahl Avan. However, from his vantage point, Octavian could see the legion had managed to breech the defences in several places and gained entry despite the fierce opposition they faced. There were so many soldiers, which, from a distance, looked like thousands of little ants scurrying madly about.

  It suddenly occurred to Octavian just how far he and Kerian had wandered through the buried ruins and then he realised there was still so much further to go. He turned his horse about, his mind now decided as to what to do. Staying here, near the entrance to the catacombs, was folly at best. The mummies still pursued him, there were four now heading in his direction, all be it at a speed that would be easily outpaced by his horse. No firm travel plans could be taken until night fell and the stars revealed the direction he could take. There seemed little left to do but follow Kerian’s trail and hope that in his haste the warrior either dropped the bag or ran into trouble long enough for Octavian to repossess it.

  He dug in his heels, took a deep breath and then cantered down into the desolate, ruined landscape, leaving the moaning mummies skirmishing the Provan legion and the golden giant warriors of Tahl Avan behind him.

  * * * * * *

  “Sinders is about this big.” Ashe indicated by cupping his hands to explain. “Black and white feathers that are, well kind of scruffy. Oh and a very sharp beak.”

  The large green and red wading bird tilted its head to take in the strange creature wading out towards it, one eye rolling to keep an eye on a tasty fish morsel it had wedged between its webbed feet and the other watching warily in case the Halfling got too close and it needed to take to the skies.

  “Sinders has the saddest eyes and is probably feeling very scared. We are new here and Sinders doesn’t have many bird friends. I have also been told Sinders only just learned to fly so is probably very tired…” Ashe noticed his voice was starting to catch in his throat as the bird shivered its body, fluffing up its feathers and clicking its long beak in warning at his approach through the dark silt of the harbour. “My friend is lost, lonely… and I really need to find Sinders as soon as I can.”

  The wading bird speared its beak into the water, snatching up another unsuspecting fish, then threw its head back and launched into the air with a mighty flap of its wings that nearly knocked Ashe from his feet.

  “Just let me know if you find anything.” Ashe shouted after the departing bird, stepping sharply back
as it deposited a foul-smelling dollop of excreta into the water right before him.

  “Well that’s just charming.” Ashe muttered as he watched the flight path of the creature as it angled around and flapped lazily towards the palace. He looked around the area for another feathered creature to interrogate, then shook his head and paddled out of the water, taking his time to dry his slimy toes on Commagin’s face towel before popping his boots back on. The Halfling walked up past the gangway of the El Defensor, pausing to hang the towel out to dry, before turning his attention to the long trudge up the path towards the city of Taurean. He kicked loose a stone and started passing it backwards and forwards between his feet as he wandered up the cobbled street, his mind full of possibilities and questions.

  Taurean was a large place for a bird to hide in and Ashe found that wherever he looked feathered creatures tweeted, swooped, pecked and pooed as they travelled around their home. The wading birds were keeping tight lipped about what happened to Sinders, the gulls just hopped away whenever he came near and mocked him with triple cries that rang like ‘Ha! Ha! Ha!’ to Ashe’s little ears.

  Parrots flew in military formations, greens, reds, oranges and yellows all vibrant and bright against the emerald hues of the trees under which Ashe had earlier discovered several of the ship’s crew had gone adventuring without asking him. The parrots seemed to love talking, chattering incessantly as they swooped overhead but they never seemed to stop for a talk as they were always in such a hurry. Smaller fawn coloured birds bibbed and bobbed for grain and seed in the streets, pursued by thuggish crows that hopped about like crotchety old men, breaking up the feeding birds with raucous caws and sharp nips of the beak. A bird could go to just so many places here.

  Ashe adjusted his bycocket hat, making sure that Thomas’s quill remained secure in the band and tilted it at a jaunty angle on his head, before setting off up the hill, leaving the El Defensor at his back. He had grown very fond of this hat, even though Thomas kept singing a silly song about someone called Robin Hood who was always riding through a glen, every time he saw him wearing it. It never made sense to Ashe, well he had to be honest, not much of what Thomas said ever made sense to him!