The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  The Halfling stared at his reflection in a window, pulled his jerkin straight and sauntered up the cobbled street, his eyes scanning the skies, rooftops and eaves for signs of his black and white feathered pet. If Ashe had been on top form, the sights and sounds of the city would have easily distracted him but the information he had gathered from Austen kept playing through his mind so much that he failed to notice the poverty of those about him.

  Sinders had flown! Austen swore he had witnessed the bird’s maiden flight. Now, how was that fair? Especially after he had worked so hard to get Sinders to fly! He was so incensed that he missed several small purses that people were just asking to have filched.

  The Halfling bit down on an apple that had somehow worked its way into his hand and chewed thoughtfully as he walked, threading his way through the crowd. He bowed theatrically to the young ladies wearing thread worn and tired dresses, often patched and taken in, touching the tip of his hat as he acknowledged them, making them smile, titter and blush as he skipped and jumped past boots with holes in the soles and cloaks with multiple patches upon them. Others stopped their chores, hammers held in mid-strike, brooms stilled in mid-sweep to observe the diminutive figure’s strange actions and found themselves smiling. Despite the deep lines of weariness etched upon their faces and the tediousness of their tasks, they all found Ashe’s antics amusing.

  Ashe continued his wandering, noting a small purple bird with a long curled tail and a cream breast, darting about under the stall and shop awnings; it’s beak, like a silver rapier, dispatching insects and swallowing them up. A smile broke across the Halfling’s face and he started to laugh aloud as he chased the bird, his eyes drawn to the way the plumage of the tail formed an inverted ‘w’ and the way it appeared to float after the bird as if it were a kite rather than an extension of the delicate avian.

  “Excuse me!” Ashe giggled, swerving around one man and ducking under a stall to avoid walking into another. He looked up into the wooden beams of one covered walkway and noted the beautiful bird swooping up and down around the obstacles there and out the other side.

  Oh if only Ashe could fly! He would love to be as delicate and graceful as this creature.

  The arcade of shops ended suddenly, leaving Ashe running out into a large plaza where huge statues of Minotaur stood around. His rapid footsteps slowly padded to a halt as he took in all of the heroic poses around him. Ashe had seen these statues before, once on the way to the feast, when he had been warned sternly if he had wandered off, he would not be let in to have the food and secondly on the way back, when everyone was really too worried about Thomas for any sight-seeing.

  “Wow!” Ashe looked about him and instantly noticed there was something different about the people about him. The humans wore smarter clothes but they appeared colour coded as if they were in a sports team. Huge Minotaur walked about the area with their families and everything appeared so refined. One stood before a large fountain and flipped something from his hand into the water before walking off.

  Such behaviour needed further investigation! Whatever was the creature doing throwing something into the pond? Ashe ran over and pulled himself up onto the edge of the elegant structure, noting the tinkling of the fountains just before he realised there were huge orange fish swimming lazily about the pool. The Minotaur was throwing rubbish in the fountain and there were fish in here! What did he think he was doing? They could eat whatever it was and become unwell.

  Ashe looked into the reflective surface and noticed something metallic at the bottom of the pond. Was that...? Could it be...? The Halfling rubbed his eyes in surprise, then rolled up his sleeve and plunged his hand into the water causing several exclamations from passers-by.

  Ashe leant over as far as he could, his fingers brushing the bottom of the pond until he located the item and pulled it to the surface.

  “I’ll be…” Ashe remarked, checking the coin he held in his hand and biting down on the edge. Nope, there was nothing wrong with it. The Minotaur was throwing away perfectly good money! Would wonders ever cease?

  Ashe slipped the coin in his pocket, thanking his luck and balanced on the edge of the fountain before holding out his arms and running lightly along the edge, swooping and rising, pretending to be Sinders and happy he had saved the ornamental fish from becoming unwell. Then stopped in surprise; from his raised vantage point there appeared to be several more coins dotted on the bottom of the pool. The Halfling rubbed his eyes in disbelief. There seemed to be loads of them! Why would someone do this?

  He sat down on the edge of the pool and quickly pulled off his boots before starting to roll up his trousers.

  “What are you doing?” a young voice asked. “Don’t you know you are not allowed in the fountains?”

  Ashe paused to take in a scruffy looking youth with spiky black hair and an infectious smile that appeared to be talking to him.

  “Are you serious?” the Halfling replied, noting the youth’s poor quality of clothing and the malnourished look about him. “They are throwing good money away here. It could hurt the fish and if they don’t want their money then I know several people who do, including me!”

  “You will get in trouble.” The youth warned. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Ashe sighed, noting once again how ragged the child looked and pushed his hand into his pocket, digging out the coin he had just retrieved. He flipped it over and stared open mouthed as the child caught the coin then quickly flipped it back into the fountain as if the coin’s very touch was scalding him.

  “Why did you do that?” Ashe asked, quite hurt that his gift had been sent to the bottom of the fountain with a loud plop.

  “That coin is more trouble than it is worth.” The urchin replied. “I’m sorry but I have to go.”

  Ashe watched as the boy turned away, shrugged his shoulders and then waded out into the pool. Get in trouble for wading in the pool. That was what pools were for! He plunged his arm under the water sending several ornamental fish darting away in terror and retrieved another coin. It did not make sense. If there was money to waste why were people in the lower city wearing rags. He plunged his arm in again, gathering several more coins before popping them into his pockets.

  This was a crime! One of the worst imaginable! Wasting perfectly good money when people around were so poor! He bent his back to the task more enthusiastically, not believing his good luck as a huge shadow fell over the Halfling whilst he foraged enthusiastically between some lily flowers.

  Ashe looked up at two massive Minotaur who did not appear very happy to see him.

  “Oh hello!” he beamed. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning for a paddle?”

  * * * * * *

  Kerian carefully led Toledo and Dorian into a ruined house that still had a functioning door and pushed it closed behind him, shutting out the darkness and the nightmarish creatures that shambled about within it. He was absolutely exhausted and truth be told terrified, with no idea how much further he had to travel to leave this sprawling city of the dead.

  Several stones had fallen from the stairwell, so Kerian pushed them over to the door and formed a blockade to ensure that only the most determined creature would gain access and not without making a great deal of noise. After seeing to the animals and offering them the meagre remains of dried grasses he found sprouting from the door and poking tentatively through the holes dotted across the faded mosaic tiles, Kerian set about exploring the house, looking for supplies and anything he could use to start a fire to warm the room from the descending chill that seemed to be particularly focused within his make-shift shelter.

  A ruined chair and some old paper scrolls served as a base for the fire which Kerian carefully built at the base of the stairs so that the opening to the floor above would serve as a makeshift chimney. After further scavenging, he soon had enough fuel to ensure the fire would last until the early morning without sacrificing the torches he still held in his supplies.

 
; Kerian spread out his blanket and felt a moment of regret for leaving Octavian behind, then angrily brushed the feeling aside. The man deserved worse for deceiving him. He was lucky he was still alive! He had killed people for less in the past.

  The fire crackled merrily, in a direct opposite of Kerian’s mood as he huddled closer to the warmth offered, rubbing his hands, before pulling over his saddlebags and making a support for his back so he could sit with some comfort. Only when everything was secure and the fundamental tasks were complete, did the warrior sit back and allow his exhaustion to wash over him. His nerves were shredded; all he wanted to do was sleep until the sun rose.

  Mummified creatures had stalked him relentlessly through the sand filled streets all day, their shambling and shuffling masking a greater intelligence than he initially thought they possessed.

  One time they had herded him into a street where the road had collapsed into the catacombs beneath and he had faced a lengthy battle before he had fought his way free, narrowly avoiding the cold brittle touch of the creatures and the risk of disease that it could bring. Others lay in wait underneath piles of sand that only shifted when he wandered near, whilst sounds of skirmishes moved ever closer, although Kerian had no idea who was fighting who.

  He broke some hard bread and started chewing on the crust, working the bread to ensure he produced saliva to moisten his mouth as well as make his dry meal edible. Although there was a temptation to drink plenty of water, the warrior kept his consumption limited. He would look for more water tomorrow but knew his horse and donkey needed the fluid more than he did if he was going to escape this harsh environment and rediscover civilization, wherever that was.

  Kerian leant back and grabbed Octavian’s satchel, wanting to hold something in his hands that would put all of this terror at bay. It was time to hold Colette in his arms once again. He looked at the design of the satchel, diamonds of material stitched carefully together and a flap that stretched across the top to secure items carefully inside.

  The design was simple; he would not have given it as much as a second glance before. Now it was priceless as it held the one thing that mattered the most to him.

  He threw open the flap and stared inside, only to find an emptiness before him. What? How could this be? Kerian upended the satchel, shaking it in case the pendant had somehow lodged on the shimmering fabric inside. Nothing fell out. He ran his hand around the inside of the bag and then repeated the action around the outside, knowing there could not be another pocket but checking anyway. His search came up empty. This made no sense, there had to be a pocket. He had seen the pendant fall in here with his own eyes.

  Kerian repeated the moments in his mind. Had the necklace fallen out again? No, it was impossible. He had guarded the satchel with his life. Could Octavian have removed the pendant after they escaped? No, this was equally ridiculous, they had had no time whilst they were busy trying to escape.

  The knight shook the bag harder, rage building inside him. This was all so wrong. Why was all of this happening to him? He crunched the bag up; feeling the lack of resistance to his actions and knowing this meant the bag had to be empty.

  “By Adden! Am I cursed? Is bad luck persistently haunting me?” He threw the satchel away in disappointment, sending it flying into the shadows. He wanted the bag as far away from him as possible. A sharp exclamation came from its destination.

  “Come out from there.” Kerian warned, drawing his sword and regaining his feet in alarm. “I will not ask you again.”

  “I mean you no harm.” The shadows replied with a voice that felt familiar and made Kerian’s heart suddenly beat faster. He knew who she was, even before she walked out into the light, her white dress as spotlessly clean as if it had been recently laundered, worn in the same way, provocatively off one shoulder, the bangles on her wrists clicking as she walked hesitantly towards him. Kerian took in her smoky grey eyes, ruby lips and long black hair and thought back to when he had first met this enigmatic woman in the market place at Wellruff.

  “How… How can you be here?” he asked, unsure whether to let his guard down. “What are you doing in the middle of the desert?”

  “I won’t hurt you.” She promised, moving a step closer despite Kerian’s edged blade. “Just let me share your fire. I will not trouble you.”

  Kerian couldn’t help but move backwards, her gentle smile disarming him and making him lower his weapon! Seeing this exotic woman here was an impossibility. He could not think straight, something about her turned his thoughts into a fog, making it hard to concentrate and focus on what was before him.

  She walked past him, her hands held up, moving dangerously close to the fire, the material of her dress translucent as she placed herself between Kerian and the flickering light, revealing a body of graceful curves that made the warrior’s breath catch in his throat.

  This woman was intoxicating, enchanting in every way and yet something about her manner warned him to be vigilant.

  Kerian moved cautiously to the side, wanting to place the fire between himself and his exotic visitor, creating a natural barrier until her intentions were known.

  “Have you been following me?” he asked. Smouldering grey eyes held his gaze as he moved, the woman kneeling on his blanket, hands still held near the flames, so close that Kerian could not understand why her palms were not blistering or turning red.

  “I had to…” she replied. “You are the only one who can help me get a message through.”

  “What message would that be?” Kerian enquired, now more confident that the fire was between them. A sad smile passed across his mysterious visitor’s face and her head bowed momentarily before she looked up at him again, her eyes now moist with tears.

  “He cannot see me!” she exclaimed. “No matter how hard I try; he does not heed my call. He is becoming more animal by the day.”

  “Who?”

  “Octavian. Where is he by the way? Oh of course. He is probably out hunting, providing for his charge as he always does.”

  “No, he’s…” Kerian started.

  “He was always good at providing. I can never fault him for that.” Her gown slipped further from her right shoulder, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the curve of breast but as Kerian tore his gaze away he noticed an ugly scar on her flawless skin. It was a sinful defacing of perfection, leaving her branded forever.

  “What is that?” he asked, not able to help himself. His visitor swiftly pulled her dress back up as if ashamed by the revelation and stared at him intently through a curtain of ink black curls.

  “It is nothing.” She stated, suddenly much colder, her smile now removed from her intoxicating features. “It is a mark of ownership.”

  “That is terrible. Who would dare to mar such beauty in this way? Wait a moment… You know Octavian?”

  “Of course. I have known him all of my life.” His visitor confessed, raising a hand to brush her hair back from her face, her cheeks suddenly flushed. Kerian waited for more information but his unexpected guest remained silent clearly not intending to divulge any more secrets.

  “When will you arrive at the petrified forests of Blackthorn?” She asked. Kerian started at the question, initially not sure what was meant by such an unusual query and caught by surprise at the change of topic.

  “I’m sorry. What do you mean? What petrified forest? I am going to Al Mashmaah.” He threw his arms up in the air, rolling his eyes to the heavens. “That is, if I knew where Al Mashmaah was.”

  “What?” the look of surprise and hurt that washed across the woman’s face was almost painful to observe. “But you have to be coming. The cards foretold you would bring Octavian back to me.”

  “I don’t know who’s cards you have been reading.” Kerian replied. “But they surely were not mine. The last time I had my fortune told I was informed I would die and I am still here to tell the tale.”

  “You lead a blessed life.” She replied in a voice now husky wi
th emotion.

  “Well I think your assessment is over generous.” Kerian replied. “My life is one catalogue of disasters after another. I can’t even find a damned necklace.”

  “The pendant you seek is right there in that bag.” She gestured, bangles clicking. “And despite your thoughts otherwise, you will see your love again.”

  “How would you know about my love, or if I will ever see her again.” Kerian snapped, his ire rising. He stormed across the room, forgetting he was using the fire to protect himself and retrieved the satchel from the shadows, shaking it angrily in her face. “There is nothing in the bag and I have already informed you as to my low opinion of seers and fortune telling. My path is my own, my future what I choose it to be. I am not a character in a book where my destiny is plotted out for me.”

  He threw the satchel across the room where it landed upside down at her knees with a thump. Kerian froze, his arm still outstretched from the throw, his face showing surprise at the loud sound. He slowly walked back towards her, stunned at the unexpected development and got down on his knees to examine the satchel with inquisitive eyes. His mysterious guest allowed a smile to cross her features, before she sat back quietly allowing Kerian to discover something she already knew.

  Kerian lifted the satchel carefully from the ground and instantly felt how heavy it had become, almost dropping it, as a suit of exquisitely made leather armour slid out from the open pouch and cascaded across the floor. Greaves, bracers, cuisses, a set of rerebrace, jerkin, undershirt, breeches, boots, underclothes, all in hues of subtle reds, beiges, browns, yellows, creams and dulled metal links. Kerian continued to lift the bag, noting a dagger, sheath, belt and hooded cloak also tumbling to the floor.