The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  She finally located the pocket containing her knife, slipping her right hand inside, closing it around the tool, only to find that it was then incredibly difficult to remove it from her overalls with her hand formed as a fist. She flattened her hand and tried to encourage the pocketknife towards her with her finger, only to have her whole body jolted as the web yanked down again.

  The spider suddenly loomed over her, fangs bared, legs twitching as it prepared to bite its prey and paralyse it before cocooning Rowan as a tasty morsel for its larder. Rowan looked up at the eight black eyes staring down at her, taking in her own bloodied reflection and stark look of terror, just as something flared to life behind her. Heat blossomed above Rowan’s head as the lantern, now tipped completely on its side finally ignited the spilled fuel from its reservoir and sent it racing along the web.

  Reacting to the unexpected flare, the arachnid reared up, its front legs waving aggressively towards the unexpected threat that dared to get between it and its meal. The web yanked down once more drawing another scream from Rowan and dropping the arachnid right down on top of her. Thick bristling hairs scratched at Rowan’s face as she tried to turn her head to the side to breathe, the terror of her situation now as paralysing as the web strands holding her. She was going to die in a dirty ship hold as a spider’s snack!

  The web snapped without warning. One second Rowan was snuggling up close to a ravenous hairy spider, the next her heart was in her throat and she was tumbling down into the darkness, falling end over end, web, spider and all.

  Rowan hit something soft that broke her fall, heard a disgruntled meow, then found herself landing hard and generating a large cloud of dust. She rolled as she hit the floor, gathering more debris and wrapping herself about with the long chain, before her motion was arrested with a sudden violent stop that left her shoulder feeling as if it were on fire.

  The dust settled gently around her, alighting on the errant strands of web still wrapped about Rowan’s form and coating her in a fuzzy layer of grey. She staggered unsteadily to her feet, shaking her head before looking around, trying to grasp her bearings, only to realise that the only light source now available came from the opening in the deck far above. The lantern and its earlier conflagration now a distant memory, in a world where everything lay cloaked in darkness, shadows and unseen menace.

  Shrugging the loops of thin chain free from her body, Rowan ran a hand up her arm, wincing at the dampness she felt there, before she reached the safety pin and went to remove it from around her shoulder. One exploratory feel confirmed her worst fears. Her shoulder was swollen and hot to touch from the abuse it had taken. The safety pin ran across the joint like a hot poker, digging into her flesh and resisting opening due to the fact it required squeezing to do so. She tugged at it gasping in shock and found herself light headed as fresh agony lanced through her body.

  Rowan took a deep breath and tried to push the pin free again but the renewed agony that assailed her almost dropped her to her knees. It was better to leave the pin in situ and worry about it later. She gathered up a loop of the chain and wrapped it about her waist before tugging the rest towards her. Something rattled across the deck, behind her and not in the direction of the loops of chain, freezing her in mid-action. She reached her right hand into her pocket and pulled out the errant pocketknife, clicking the small tool open and feeling merciful that in the darkness she was unable to see just how puny and pitiful a weapon it really was.

  A soft padding sound moved around her as if something were purposefully circling her. Was it the spider? Was the creature that large and heavy that to her smaller ears it could make such a noise? She stepped away, angling towards where the tiny circle of light from above kissed the deck, pulling the chain after her and wincing at the rattling hubbub it caused.

  The padding stopped.

  Rowan stopped too, her ears listening for a clue to her stalker whilst her eyes strained in the darkness, seeing nothing. An aroma of fish wafted across her nostrils, causing Rowan to wrinkle her nose in disgust. She turned her head aside and choked back a scream as the darkness beside her appeared to move like a wall of liquid. She stepped away in horror, only to trip over the trailing thin chain, her hand reaching out for balance, her fingertips brushing across a soft pelt. Rowan spun about, her eyes trying to lock onto the circle of light as if that one slim beacon could save her from whatever demon now stalked her. A giant furry head suddenly materialised out of the darkness, glassy feline eyes gleaming despite the subdued lighting.

  Socks! The damned priest’s cat was down here! In a flash Rowan realised who had been pulling on the chain. Hell, she had seen cats play with balls of string before and now she found herself the perfect bite sized treat!

  She slowly started to back away, as the cat’s head came down to her level, its nose twitching inquisitively as it sniffed her small form. Its tail flicked in the shadows, an excited movement matching the actions of the cat as it sank lower and stretched out its claws, wriggling its bottom as it prepared to pounce.

  Rowan spun about, dug in her heels and ran, knowing her very life depended on it, blindly rushing out into the darkness, the thin chain rattling behind her as she sprinted. She tried to put out of her mind the possibility of running into something hard and hurting herself, of tripping over a crack and breaking her ankle or worse her leg. Terror gave her strength she never knew she had, as she simply ran as fast as she could, hoping against hope she would find cover. She did not get very far!

  Socks watched the chain whizzing across the floor before him as if vaguely disinterested, before lifting up a paw to stomp down on the links to prevent them from moving any further. Rowan felt the chain about her waist pull tight, then her feet snapped out from beneath her and she fell down onto her back, sending fresh agony lancing through her arm. The breath crashed out of her body but Rowan still had the sense to roll away, just as a huge paw swiped the area where she had lain, long claws scoring the wood and setting Rowan’s heart beating faster.

  Fleeing to the right, feeling her foot slip on the edge of a plank as she threw her body across the gap, landing hard and breathless, only to have her back pushed by another paw swipe that sent her tumbling again. Rowan crashed down, screaming at the frustration and injustice of it all. The cat was playing with her. It was only a matter of time before its claws would sink into her flesh.

  She lashed out with the penknife just as Socks lunged forward, striking a blow on the cat’s nose that made it sneeze sharply in shock. Socks rubbed its face with a paw then stared around, initially unable to locate its prey in the darkened hold space, its ears twitching to locate the sound of the chain slithering across the deck. Then the feline hunter was off, padding after its prey with uncanny accuracy. The cat was not in a rush, the outcome of the encounter already assured.

  Socks would feed tonight.

  * * * * * *

  Commagin scratched his nose with a jagged fingernail and glanced at the sand timer beside the hole in the deck. His low grumble into his beard said what words could not. He was concerned; Rowan should have been on her way up by now, yet the chain remained lax and the signal had not come. The grains of sand were now well past the half way point and Commagin knew that once all had slipped through the bottle neck of the timer Rowan would swiftly revert to full size again.

  He leaned over the hole and tried to gaze down into the darkness but could see nothing of the drama unfolding below. Another grumble followed the first. If he did not hear from her soon, he was going to have to pull up the chain and just hope for the best. Hope that she was in the cage, the job completed, not left down below in a claustrophobic small space that would crush her body like an egg if the magic spell failed.

  Commagin did know that Thomas was not going to be happy if anything became of Rowan and that he would never forgive the engineer if this occurred. He grumbled into his beard for a third time then reached into his stained apron and pulled out a dented flask.

  Wit
h a deft twist of the wrist, the Dwarf had the flask open and to his lips, swallowing the fiery liquor and letting its caress slip down his throat, coating it in velvety warmth. He lowered the flask from his lips and stared at the warped reflection on its side and considered what life would have been like if he had simply stayed at his forge in the mines instead of following the El Defensor on her adventures.

  He lifted the flask to his lips again, then paused. He did not think it would do to face Thomas’s wrath intoxicated. He owed the man that much at least! Grumbling much louder now, the Dwarf screwed the top of his flask firmly closed then stared back down into the hole, the sand particles trickling by at the corner of his eye.

  “Come on Rowan.” He muttered. “What’s taking you so long?”

  * * * * * *

  Rowan’s shoulder hit the huge chain and cogwheel with such force that she spun out to the side and ended up sitting on her rear holding her hand up to her face to feel the egg already forming on her forehead. For a moment, she had no idea what she had crashed into, until she heard the unmistakable chink of the chain as the vibration from the collision transferred along its length.

  She picked herself up; feeling shaky from the impact; her hands outstretched, blindly feeling for the cold hard surface in the darkness, before she began a slow walk around the cog, feeling for the side where the huge links were not as taut. This was definitely the loose side of chain; yet the all-important link she needed to thread her own slender chain through may as well have been miles above for all the good it did.

  “So we meet again.” She muttered angrily to herself, slapping the chain in frustration and sending rattles up its length. How was she ever going to reach the top? She was exhausted; the very weight of her own head seemed too great for her shoulders. Rowan rolled her neck, hearing the click in her spine as she tried to ease some of the stiffness she felt there, before running her left hand up under her hair to angrily rub at her knotted muscles. Her eyes strained to pierce the darkness and identify the whereabouts of the damned cat she knew was out there somewhere, waiting, watching for that moment when her guard was down to pounce and eat her alive.

  The cat materialised from out of the shadows, its hunter’s body sleek, feline eyes luminous, claws razor sharp. Rowan stepped behind the cog, daring to peek through the holes in the great wheel, sensing the deadly predator turning this way then that, slinking ever closer as she crouched down in fear.

  Socks pawed at the thin chain lying on the floor, toying with the silver line as if it were twine from a ball, instead of attached to the safety pin stuck at Rowan’s shoulder. She rubbed her left hand in response, worried that the pins and needles she was feeling in her arm were signs the swelling in her shoulder had worsened to the degree that it was starting to cut off the circulation in her arm. Her fingers on her left hand felt like sausages they were swelling up so fast…

  Richard’s cat rolled across the floor dragging the thin chain along with him, which whipped across the deck then snagged on the safety pin around Rowan’s shoulder, yanking the hidden woman out into the open. She shrieked with pain as she found herself pulled into the cat’s view. Socks paused in his play, his head slowly turning from its current upside-down position, to almost the right way up, its body appearing to unwind, until the predator was now the right way up and preparing to attack again.

  Rowan tried to hold her breath and ease back into the shadows of the cogwheel, just as Socks pounced, claws scratching and scrabbling at the wooden floor in its haste to catch the little engineer. Rowan grabbed up all the loose chain she could manage and ran back behind the cog, dragging the spare links with her as one of Sock’s huge claws slashed through the air, missing her by inches.

  She dodged to the left, only to find a claw slicing in from that side of the cog, then darted back to the right, only to find herself face to face with the huge snout of the massive cat. Another lunge, another slash, the cat started to come around the cog, forcing Rowan to break from cover or risk being eaten, its tail flicking backwards and forwards in clear excitement.

  This was insane! The coils of the chain gathered at her feet threatening to trip her at any moment and added yet another hazard to Rowan’s worsening plight. Socks whipped around and jumped, quick as lightning, as Rowan instinctively dropped to the deck, the cat crashing head first into the vertical chain and setting it clanging loudly from side to side. The cat’s reaction was to lash out at the inanimate object that had caused it such pain, swiping with its paw and setting the whole chain swaying from side to side.

  Rowan turned to run, daring to risk the open deck in the confusion but Socks was faster, claws slamming down onto her back, knocking the breath from her body and drawing another scream of agony. The cat bent its head to sniff, sent forth a rough barbed tongue from its mouth and licked Rowan’s head before opening its mouth wide and lunging forward to bite.

  Something unseen finally worked loose high above, sounding a loud ‘ping’ that cut through the shadows, an ominous portent for the tumult about to begin. Socks froze, his mouth wide open about Rowan’s head, before it sensed something was wrong and turned its attention from its meal.

  A cascade of chain fell from the heavens, a thunderous waterfall of cold metal links piling up in a roar that was deafening. Huge lengths of chain fell down upon the cat, causing it to meow in protest and try to leap away, but other links continued to pile up faster than the agile cat could manoeuvre, knocking it down to the deck.

  Rowan slipped and skidded about on all fours, trying to gain her feet and dodge the rain of greased links as they crashed down about her. The descending chain whipped about, delivering a glancing blow across Rowan’s temple, dropping her back to her knees stunned, the downpour of chain continuing to crash and tumble about. It seemed endless, link after link freefalling through the darkness, a relentless torrent offering no salvation from its cacophony of noise.

  Her left hand hit the floor first, the sensation both numb and alien to her. It was like pushing her hand down into a vat of warm dough that encompassed her fingers and wrist. Her right hand landed on top of it, feeling the same strange puffy sensation of a swollen inflamed limb. Her hand was grossly misshapen, it was the most bizarre thing, even with all of the chaos unfolding around her. Rowan’s mind laughed at the absurdity of the sensation, it was almost as if her hand belonged to someone bigger, as if she were…

  As if she were starting to grow again! The realisation hit like a sledgehammer, causing her heartbeat to rise and the breath to catch in her throat. She was growing again!

  The spell was starting to fail!

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Rauph sat as if in a daze as the palace attendants fussed about him. They polished his horns, washed him, clipped him and groomed him until his chestnut coat gleamed in the evening light. Others buffed his armour and oiled his weapons as if their very lives depended on it.

  Greaves were strapped to his muscular forearms, shin guards placed over fine leather boots, double laced to ensure nothing came free during combat. A black and gold breastplate, with a matching rear, a thick leather skirt secured over a chain waist coat that dropped to the Minotaur’s thighs. They placed an ornate helmet upon the prince’s brow, with slots allowing his majestic horns to be slid through, before a black silken cloak with embroidered gold filigree was laid around his shoulders and clipped into place on the breast plate, capturing the hero that everyone within the room believed they were serving.

  “It is done.” Whispered the head valet, stepping back with the other servants to run his eyes over Rauph’s form and nod in satisfaction. Here indeed, stood the regal prince, Mora wanted them to portray. “Can you turn for me, Kristoph. I need to check the cloak is lying just right?” Rauph looked up, registering the man was talking to him but not really comprehending the simple instructions given.

  “I want you to turn.” The valet repeated. “Come on stand up.” He gestured wildly with his hands, then upon noting that his char
ge was not responding, moved forward, forgetting his station to grip Rauph firmly by the shoulder.

  If looks could have killed, the servant would have instantly become a pile of ash.

  “I do not wish to stand.” Rauph growled in warning. “In fact, all I want is to be left alone.”

  “Come now Prince.” The valet continued to encourage him. “We need you looking at your best for the tournament tomorrow. I need to see how your cloak hangs to arrange for any last-minute adjustments.”

  “I don’t care!” Rauph roared, grabbing his helmet and throwing it across the room, narrowly missing an antique vase filled with flowers as it clanged into the darkness. “Just leave me alone!”

  The servants rushed away, scattering into the shadows and taking the shortest route to avoid Rauph’s wrath, before closing the door swiftly behind them. Silence settled over the room like a shroud, leaving Rauph angry at himself for displaying such an outburst, even as his mind replayed his mother’s words.

  She had killed Ashe. The little Halfling who had done nothing to warrant such deadly action. Condemned all because he was Rauph’s friend. The Minotaur wanted to sob, feeling the responsibility as heavy as any chains, sapping the resistance from his massive form. Ives had died because he was Rauph’s friend too. How many more would he lose because of the cruel machinations of his mother?

  The faces of his fellow crewmates flickered through his brain, Thomas, Colette, Marcus, Mathius, Commagin. How many more would be murdered just because of his birthright, his bloodline? The thought of his friends in pain crushed his spirit even further, eroding the navigator’s resilience, leaving him open to the tendrils of despair and depression lurking at the edges of his mind.