The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  “Come on lad; let’s get you out of here.” Commagin shouted in Aradol’s ear as he struggled to ease his friend back towards the shallows but the young warrior refused to retreat, vainly tugging at the corpse of his dead friend with mud-slicked exhausted arms.

  “I won’t leave him here!” He screamed. “I’m not leaving him here to be eaten!” Commagin’s eyes shone as he took in the resolute stubbornness of the distraught young man and instantly knew it was pointless to argue with him. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that he felt in his throat and pushed his way forward through the sludge to stand alongside him and help.

  “Here let me help.” The engineer gently offered, noting that Aradol was staring intently at the bloodied mess of wounds upon Ives’ body where his corpse had been pulled free of the orchid patch. A mighty roar sounded behind them, from back up the slope where they had originally fought with the mother Nirschl, causing Commagin to turn and see the trees and bushes snapping and cracking as something huge slithered their way.

  Rauph appeared oblivious to the approaching danger, lost in his battle rage, he continued to crash through the mud, sending baby Nirschl slithering away as fast as they could wriggle, his ferocious battle cry finally making Aradol blink as if he were coming out of a trance.

  “What are you staring at Aradol?” Commagin probed, realising shock was setting in and trying to remain calm for his shipmate. The Dwarf tugged as hard as he could to free Ives from the clinging swamp, grunting with the effort but he needed Aradol’s help or he would never succeed. As he struggled, Rauph struck a baby Nirschl with his metal tray, a resounding crash rang out as the infant serpent was sent spinning through the air, hissing in pain.

  “Come on there is no time for daydreaming son; we need to get out of here.” The engineer prompted. “Let’s do this together. On three, okay? Then we can get our friend out of this mess and back to dry land. People are going to pay for this you mark my words.”

  “I just can’t help thinking that tray looks familiar.” Aradol gasped, clearly not comprehending a word Commagin had uttered as he floundered through the bog.

  “It should do.” Commagin shouted over the tumultuous noise of the approaching terror. “It’s your breastplate!”

  * * * * * *

  Marcus darted left and right, Nirschl jaws snapping shut all about him, each one hissing in frustration as the young monk used every trick that he could, to avoid the slimy creatures trying to eat him. Where was everyone? Each time he tried to get a glimpse across the swamp to find his friends, he ended up seeing flattened jungle foliage, rolling coils of hydra and yet more stagnant swamp. Was he fighting this damned monster just by himself? Why was no one coming to help him?

  The monk pivoted on one foot and kicked out at a snapping jaw, catching the surprised hydra right on the nostril, making it snort and shake its head as it backed up sharply. Marcus followed through, dropping under the shocked Nirschl’s jaw as it drew back, just as another hydra head slammed into the ground behind him biting and nosing at the mud in search of its elusive prey.

  A mass of slime-coated coils rolled above Marcus as he continued to dodge backwards and forwards beneath the Nirschl’s body, the girth of the monster blotting out the sky as the monk twisted and turned, matching his move with the undulating body of the serpent above him. A loud angry hissing sounded from behind, revealing yet another hydra head flattening itself down to slither under itself and skim along the ground, tongue flickering in and out rapidly as it tasted the air and arrowed towards the young novice.

  Marcus knew he had seconds to spare as his hiding place rapidly shrunk in size as the two Nirschl heads rubbed against each other in passing. He dodged right, then holding his hands over his head dashed left, out into the open, mud and slime kicking up behind him as he ran across the debris littered ground.

  A low wail echoed hauntingly through the jungle, its origin from somewhere ahead of the monk. Marcus found himself running from a known terror behind, towards an unknown terror ahead. He leapt over a fallen tree trunk and found himself sliding down into the large nest he had spotted earlier, pieces of fragile shell and gnawed bone snapping and spinning away from his feet as he slid to the bottom. His eyes darted rapidly about the depression, seeking some sort of refuge from the rampaging Nirschl. Should he keep running and risk discovery, or take his chances and hide hoping the monster, by some miracle, would pass him by and keep moving?

  The massive tail of the creature thudded down in front of him, directly into the centre of the nest, blade-like spikes quivering as it started to tighten and flex upon itself, helping to draw the rest of the huge Nirschl’s gigantic body along the ground. Marcus retreated back towards the edge of the depression and started scrabbling back up the slope towards the terrifying rumble of the approaching monster. He threw himself over the lip of the nest and rolled under the tree trunk, just as the first flickering tongue nosed over the top of the fallen log.

  The monk held his breath as the immense monster started to slither right over him. Scales rasped noisily against the trunk as the Nirschl dragged itself inch by inch over the tree. Swamp muck and slime dripped off the underbelly of the hydra as it slithered past, showering down onto Marcus’s hiding place in a rotting deluge that made the monk want to gag. The daylight disappearing above him as more and more of the immense serpent slithered across his hiding place.

  The novice took a deep breath, not daring to make a sound as the full weight of the Nirschl crushed down upon the fallen tree. The huge constricting coils of the serpent touched the ground, plunging Marcus into a terrifying darkness that amplified every sound of the hydra’s advance.

  Marcus had never experienced the paralysing fear of claustrophobia until that moment; the terrifying thought that the monster could smother him, crush him to a pulp or simply pause in its travels long enough for him to run out of air, almost paralyzed the monk. He fought back the unsettlingly image of clawing at the scaled body of the creature with bloodied nails until he expired from asphyxiation and instead struggled to remain calm and face his fears. Despite his resolve, he suddenly found himself gasping for breath as his anxiety threatened to smother him.

  The tree trunk cracked like dry kindling, the explosiveness of the clear sound making Marcus flinch and scream in terror. He lifted up his hand in reflex, searching in the darkness for some sign to reassure himself the tree would remain true and shelter him from the monster, only to find his hands hitting the trunk a lot sooner than he had expected. Even as his fingertips explored the rough bark, he could feel the undeniable pressure upon his hands as the tree continued to bear down.

  He was going to be crushed alive! The weight of the Nirschl was going to push the tree down into the soft ground of the swamp and squash him like a bug! Marcus tried to move one way and found himself up against the embankment but the trunk had already grounded on this side and was creating a small avalanche of slime that cascaded down against his shoulder and face, making the monk spit and cough. He tried to move the other way and found himself coming up against the rough scales of the Nirschl as it slowly slithered by, causing him to recoil in revulsion.

  The monk kicked out screaming but in the midnight darkness, he had no target to hit, no foe to slay. Marcus felt his elbows hitting the mud at either side of him as the trunk pushed ever lower. The panic was all encompassing, the blood-curdling sound of the monster moving over him making it impossible to remain calm, the very presence of the Nirschl threatening to unravel his delicate psyche.

  The tree groaned again, further cracks sounding through the darkness as it shifted above him. Although he could not see it, Marcus knew the rough bark was mere inches from his face. He turned his head to one side willing the tree to stop its descent, praying to St Fraiser for mercy as debris rained upon his skin, his breath now coming in ragged gasps. He was losing control! The rough bark of the tree trunk touched his ear. Marcus could not contain himself any longer. He opened his mouth and screamed.


  * * * * * *

  “Where do you think it’s going?” Weyn asked, as Mathius pulled him to his feet. “Come to think of it, where has everyone else gone? Did they all get invited to a party and forget to tell us?”

  Mathius ignored Weyn’s pitiful attempt at humour and set to brushing what mud and debris he could from his clothes as he surveyed the battlefield. The Nirschl was slithering away, clearly badly injured from the fight, its gigantic form oozing over the lip of the nest he had discovered earlier.

  Although the Nirschl heads were quick and lithe, the main bulk of the monster’s body was so big and bulky that it appeared to be using its spiked tail to gain leverage in the floor of the swamp to propel itself through the muck. Even as he watched, the tail reared up into the air and shot forwards, slamming into the ground with such force that Mathius felt it through the soles of his sodden boots.

  Several of the hydra heads were badly injured a few oozing stumps sporting tiny sprouting hydra heads that snapped and squealed at each other whilst the bigger intact heads did their best to ignore them. Other heads lay on the ground clearly dead, one with a broken jaw, another with an eye hanging free from its orbit, the necks dragging through the mud like unwanted anchors making it difficult for the Nirschl to advance.

  “Could it be retreating?” Mathius offered. “It doesn’t look like it has fared too well against us.” Weyn looked down at his arm, then gazed across the debris-strewn swamp and watched fascinated as the monster slid further into the nest and prepared to throw its tail out again.

  “I don’t think we fared too well either.” The archer admitted. Another strange cry came from the wall of trees beyond the Nirschl and the hydra heads began to snap in clear frustration as the creature struggled to move its bulk towards the sound.

  “Well I for one want to know where it’s going, just in case it is gathering reinforcements.” Mathius replied. “I can’t see any of the others either, so we need to find them quickly and get away from here.” A stray red petal danced across the assassin’s vision, spinning gently towards the ground. This whole expedition had been a gigantic waste of time!

  “Do we really need to follow it?” Weyn asked, frankly horrified at the thought. “Why can’t we just let it be?” An unmistakeable roar rose from ahead, a sound both men instantly recognised.

  “I might have known Rauph was in the thick of it.” Mathius muttered. Weyn laid a hand on the assassin’s arm.

  “We really should wait here.” The archer said. “You know how Rauph doesn’t like to be disturbed when he is having fun.”

  “I think this is too much fun even for our Minotaur.” Mathius shook his head and set off in pursuit of the slithering nightmare, moving easily in the Nirschl’s wake where the foliage had been flattened. He looked back over his shoulder at Weyn and noticed the archer’s crestfallen face.

  “Come on!” Mathius grinned, trying to make light of the situation. “Keep up! We make a great team. I’m sure the others will need us again before we know it.” Weyn shook his head in wonder at the stupidity of his own actions and then placed one soggy boot in front of the other and started to follow his shipmate.

  “That’s what bothers me.” Weyn mumbled in reply.

  * * * * * *

  Rauph roared again, his angry bellow competing with the wails and squeals of the baby Nirschl slithering away from the rampaging Minotaur as fast as they could wriggle. The navigator charged up behind one, kicking the hissing mass of little heads with his boot, sending the serpent somersaulting through the air to crash into a puddle of stagnant swamp water.

  The Minotaur looked about the clearing for fresh enemies to confront, his nostrils flaring, eyes wide and staring, prepared to attack anything that drew close. The baby hydrae were literally falling over themselves, to race across the mire, forging a way back towards where the mother Nirschl’s lair was located. Commagin and Aradol had taken the initiative to drag Ives away from danger to the closest edge of the clearing, luckily out of the way of the slithering tide of venomous monsters scurrying rapidly away from Rauph’s destructive wrath.

  The trees at the edge of the clearing swung angrily from side to side, thunderous crashes and cracks, accompanied by exploding clouds of debris, rose to the heavens as the mother Nirschl finally smashed its way through. Rauph snorted loudly and heaved Aradol’s breastplate after its owner, sending the battered armour skipping across the ground like a warped discus before it bounced up the slope after the men and crashed into the undergrowth. With a slow roll of his neck, the Navigator reached behind his back and drew forth his swords, hefting the weight of the blades in his hands and whipping them about as he prepared for the titanic battle he knew had yet to occur.

  The Nirschl tail crashed down into the mud, sending spouts of muck rocketing into the air. Its extended spikes gouging deeply through the cloying matter before gripping firmly and flexing. It contracted in a series of ripples, the Hydra finally pulling itself through the remaining undergrowth like a living avalanche, lengths of coil flopping and sliding upon itself as the monster hissed its defiance, it’s bulk crushing everything foolish enough to stand in its way.

  Juvenile hydrae wriggled desperately towards their mother, cutting ‘S’ shaped trails across the swamp floor as they squealed for protection. Massive Nirschl heads dropped down to nudge affectionately at the distressed infants, their size making such gentle actions seem impossible. Nostrils flared at the heavy scent of blood permeating the swamp, before hard orange eyes identified their fallen brood lying broken and scattered across the ground.

  A roar of anguish rocked Aradol and Commagin as they struggled up the far bank but the anger was not directed at the fleeing men, instead several sets of orange eyes narrowed in hatred on the solitary Minotaur who dared to stand his ground against them.

  Rauph offered a salute with his swords, then stood with his feet apart, mud bubbling gently beneath him. He was ready for this battle. His mind was clear. There would be only one outcome. He turned side on and prepared for the strikes to come, only to hear the cry of a juvenile Nirschl from right next to his feet. The navigator took in the bobbing crimson orchids that still remained intact and used the edge of his blade to lift up a leaf and expose a small Nirschl quaking in fear beneath the nodding blooms.

  The hissing of the Hydra amplified tenfold. Several Nirschl heads darted forwards, venom dripping from their jaws, fangs bared, coils bunching up behind them as they prepared to strike, yet the creature did not attack, clearly fearing for its young. Rauph pushed forward with his sword nudging the baby and registering the rage directed towards him as the Nirschl heads angled in, surrounding the Minotaur with a wall of hissing and snapping snouts.

  Rauph looked from one set of eyes to the other, turning slowly and showing no fear as he regarded each one in turn, his sword never wavering from the baby at his feet. His threat was clear, the implications obvious to both parties. Yet doubts were slowly entering the Minotaur’s mind. How could a monster so huge and so destructive have the potential to be so gentle and caring? It was so protective of it’s young, displaying an intelligence that was unexpected. The thought sobered the Minotaur, raising yet more questions.

  Moving with great care, every move exaggerated, Rauph carefully slid one of his swords back into its sheath. A blast of air ruffled Rauph’s chestnut fur as one Nirschl head moved in closer, its nostrils flaring in warning. The Minotaur turned his gaze fully upon the swaying head, saying nothing with words but letting his slow actions portray what he wished to do. He held up his empty hand to show it contained no threat, then reached down towards the blood orchid under which the infant hid.

  The risk to life and limb was obvious but Rauph suddenly realised he did not wish to kill this magnificent creature. He took in the destruction about him, the mangled and shattered bodies of the baby serpents, the hideous wounds inflicted on the mother Nirschl. What had this creature ever done to them apart from react in defence to their unwanted
intrusion?

  Hisses and snarls increased in volume but the navigator refused to acknowledge them, as the embers of his explosive rage finally extinguished, he carefully reached under the delicate bloom, gripped it firmly by the stem and lifted the plant clear from the swamp, exposing the unharmed quivering baby Nirschl beneath. Then he slowly took a step back and closed his eyes.

  The Nirschl lowered one head and opened its mouth, gently scooping up its offspring, before withdrawing back through the wall of angry serpent heads that remained sentinel around Rauph. Each head hissed in warning, venom dripping from bared fangs.

  Hoping that his intention was now clear for the monster to see, Rauph remained stationary; his remaining sword held down at his side, his head lowered in respect. A large Nirschl head nosed forward, sniffed at the Minotaur and then opened its jaws wide, revealing its razor-sharp fangs, complete with a flickering tongue. Rauph remained standing, not flinching as the open mouth moved closer, its fetid breath washing over him in waves. Somehow, the Navigator knew that if he so much as flinched the creature would swallow him completely without a second’s hesitation.

  The jaws remained wide for what seemed like an eternity and then ever so slowly, the creature withdrew, its deadly fangs clicking gently together, lips merging as one as it retreated. The monster turned its head to one side, regarding the Minotaur with an unblinking orange eye, as if the creature were memorising this intruder, remembering his scent, focusing on his appearance and making it expressly clear that if their paths were to cross again the outcome would not be as favourable.

  Rauph watched the Nirschl slowly slither back across the swamp, tens of baby offspring herded before its coils. It slid through murky pools of stagnant water and merged with the jungle foliage, camouflaging itself. Wisps of mist appeared, rising like wraiths from the water and it took the Minotaur a concerted effort to identify the monster as it eerily disappeared, piece by piece.