With this weapon so prominently displayed it stood to reason the Minotaur were bound to notice if the damn thing went missing and it wasn’t the easiest thing to smuggle away. She could hardly hide it down her trouser leg!
“Hang on a minute!” Rowan paused halfway. “What if they notice it has gone?”
“That’s the idea.” Colette smiled. “Come on. Hurry up!” Noises rose from the stairwell adding credence to Colette’s sense of urgency. The guards were coming back. Rowan froze, the axe half in and half out of its resting grooves.
“Damn!” the mage cursed under her breath. She had not expected them to be coming back so soon. She stared urgently about the area, her eye noting the serving girl’s foot now sticking out from underneath the draped tablecloth, the shield still lying on the floor out of place the Warhammer alongside it teetering dangerously. Then she looked back at Rowan trying desperately to shove the axe back into its resting place so she could turn and run back across the ramp.
“Stay right there!” Colette hissed.
“No way.” Rowan shook her head. “I’ll be seen!” She took a step onto the ramp and let go of the Labyris, only for the weapon to start slowly sliding down towards the end of the pedestal. Colette took one look then dropped to her knees sliding forwards and pushing the button that retracted the ramp, forcing Rowan to remain behind clutching the statues and hanging on for all she was worth.
“What are you doing?” Rowan hissed. The pain of betrayal etched into her face.
“I’m sorry,” Colette replied, meeting Rowan’s furious gaze and not backing down. “You have to trust me. I have a plan.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Kerian swallowed his last bite of the bread and picked up his pace, eager to share this divine bounty and sudden change of fortune with Octavian who was leading somewhere ahead of him in the mist. His boots slipped on the slick surface as if he were on ice, making the going more comic than actually productive, with every determined quick step swiftly deteriorating into a slither by its end.
The length of knotted rope attached to his waist lay on the floor before him, an umbilical cord fastening him first to Scrave and then to the gypsy Octavian, the only person in this strange place who he hoped could lead him to safety. How he yearned to see a sunrise again, to lift the pendant and start searching for Colette. Out here on the span, the thickness of the mist was such that he could barely see fifteen feet ahead of him, let alone spot the sun. A supernatural wind shrieked and pulled at his clothes threatening to shut the flap of his pouch and risk him losing access to the sustenance within. Kerian had a feeling that If the pouch were to close, the chances of locating the food again were slim, as he had no way of understanding the workings of the enchanted bag.
The knight refused to acknowledge the strange phenomena of the bag, or his travel on this magical bridge. It was an impossible scenario his mind could never understand. By rights the wind should have blasted this magical mist to shreds leaving him a clear view of the span and his fellow travellers. The bridge had no means of support, it defied logic and gravity. The magical pouch was a law unto itself. So much of his life was fantastic now that trying to comprehend the situation and unravel the enigmas that he faced would probably unravel his own mind as well. He shook his head. It was better just to take the situation at face value and just keep on walking, hoping that everything would work out alright in the end.
A blast of wind gusted, shoving Kerian from behind and causing him to slither and wobble closer to the edge of the path. Scrave’s faint silhouette came into focus for the first time, just a few metres ahead of him, the guide rope rising up from the span where it wrapped around Scrave’s left arm. For a second Kerian debated if he should share his magical fare with the dark brooding Elf considering their turbulent history. His new-found elation at finding Colette’s pendant, now safely inside his tunic next to his heart, pushed such petty differences aside. Life was looking up! Kerian was going to start looking for Colette again. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel her back in his arms. Little else mattered… As he moved to offer Scrave some food Toledo snorted loudly and stopped Kerian in his tracks, snatching his arm back and spinning him around like a clumsy ice skater.
“Oh come on stupid! We need to keep going.” Kerian scolded, Toledo’s ears flattened and his eyes rolled nervously. “Don’t be silly, the rope will pull taut in a moment and I have no intentions of leaving you behind.” He checked over his shoulder noting that Scrave had once again disappeared into the mists and that the slack in the rope was being taken up.
“Come on Toledo! Whatever this foolishness is I want no part of it.” The spare slack at Kerian’s feet started to snake away leaving him with a stark choice. “Okay, if you want to be stubborn, I can fix that.” He grabbed at the spare length of rope hanging from the end of the guideline at his waist and unwound it, before tying the loose end around the pommel of the saddle and tugging hard to ensure the knot was secure. Then he set off with Toledo now firmly tethered behind him. The stallion snorted in protest, shaking his head before reluctantly taking one step, then another, his ears down and his head held low.
“Come on Kerian!” came a ghostly voice through the mist. “You are slowing us down, get a move on.”
“I’m trying,” Kerian shouted back, looking over his shoulder at the stallion and its reluctant walk. “It’s Toledo he’s dragging his feet. I think something has got him spooked.”
An ear-piercing shriek cut the air as a dark shape sliced through the mist between Kerian and his companions. Toledo instantly reared up, hooves flashing, only for its back legs to scrabble on the slippery surface and cause the horse to crash back down onto the span. Kerian lost his balance, as the stallion yanked him, his legs sliding out from under him, dropping him heavily to the ground. There was a crack, like thunder, a heavy beating of wings, then another dark form swooped through the mist. Kerian had the impression of massive claws outstretched and snatching at the air right where he would have been standing, had he not fallen.
Cries of alarm rose from the mists ahead, indicating that those in front were experiencing similar troubles but Kerian was too busy trying to get back to his feet, his boots scrabbling on the slick marbled surface. He crashed down again, his open palm slapping the multi-coloured surface of the span with such force that his hand went numb. He snatched it up, shaking it, trying to coax back some feeling, then realised that the whole bridge was shuddering beneath him as if something huge moved along it.
A haunting clarion call echoed along the length of the bridge, sending shivers down Kerian’s spine. He knew that call, it signalled the Provan legion were coming. Somehow, they must have broken past the dragon guardians. An image of hordes of undead swarming the span and charging in their direction filled his mind and he reached for his sword as the bridge trembled beneath him.
He moved to shout a warning, only to feel the rope about his waist suddenly snap tight, crushing the breath from him. Kerian found himself spun around and dragged physically along the span, violent tremors vibrating along the rope’s length as he was pulled. Toledo snorted as the rope then snatched at his saddle, hauling him along after his master.
Disembodied cries of pain filled the mist as Kerian slithered to a stop. His mind instantly sensing that something had to be wrong. The cries sounded as if they were coming from above. He got unsteadily to his knees then quickly pulled on the rope attached to Toledo’s saddle in order to pull himself fully to his feet.
“Octavian? Scrave?” Kerian hissed, stepping carefully forwards and following the rope further into the mist, his hand finally freeing his sword from its scabbard. “Where are you for Adden’s sake?” He moved further along the span, his breathing ragged, his footing unsteady, Toledo’s hooves clopping along the bridge behind him. Where had they gone? This damned mist made everything so hard to see.
Toledo let out a scream and side stepped as a huge claw came up over the edge of the path, sinking its talon
s onto the patterned surface of the bridge and shattering the pattern into a spider web of fractures. A dark, sharply angled triangular head, haloed with long black feathers reared up from underneath the span, screeching in the stallion’s direction. Kerian’s blade lunged out instantly, his military training leaping to the fore, the gleaming steel incredibly batted aside as a huge wing arched over him, placing Kerian under its shadow. Huge wing hooks latched onto the far edge of the span, anchoring the monster and stopping it from falling.
Kerian screamed as the creature’s head came towards him. It was an old woman, her eyes cold and dark, set beneath brows of thick feathers. Her nose swept down from her high forehead terminating in a sharp angular point. The mouth was an impossibly wide ‘V’ shape that even as he watched, yawned open to reveal rows of wicked yellow teeth. The thick muscular neck swept down to a rounded breast covered in dark feathers and the shoulders became mighty wings slapping in the air, stabilising the horror’s balance, battering the knight and his stallion and forcing them down.
Toledo kicked out hard, his back hooves stamping into the wing hooked on the span, the attack cracking several thin bones in its delicate structure, making the beast release its grip. The monster shrieked in anger, not sure now if it should attack the horse or turn its attention to the knight trying to slash at its claw. Its wings flapped furiously, struggling to maintain its position as its head darted forwards, determined to scoop Kerian up and crush him in its maw.
Kerian dropped back, missing the snapping attack by inches, then retaliated, darting swiftly forwards and skewering the monster’s left eye, making it shriek in pain and drop off the edge with another ear-splitting crack of its wings. He slithered to the edge, staring into the murk, desperately trying to locate where the creature had gone, only for Toledo to neigh in alarm as the horror pulled itself up from the other side of the span and lunged for the undefended stallion.
Toledo reared up instinctively, yanking Kerian back towards him as he lashed out with a hoof and brought it crashing down on the monster’s claw, just as Kerian stabbed upwards with his sword, striking the underside of the monster’s jaw and forcing the creature to painfully shut its mouth. Kerian swung his blade around, looking to score a hit on the creature’s breast, hoping its heart would be similar to a human one and lunged, only to find himself wrenched away as the guide rope snapped tight again. He was wrenched forwards into the mist away from Toledo and then to his horror felt the guide rope dragging him upwards, pulling him away from the surface.
Kerian struggled on tip-toe, still trying to remain upright as the rope brutally tightened about his waist and hoisted him up, only to drop him down again as if finding the additional weight too much. The knight was powerless to act. He debated cutting the rope as he was hoisted into the air again but had no idea what would happen if he did. Chances were that he would slide right off the span or miss it all together. At least whilst they were tethered, he still had a chance of survival, however slim it might be.
Several bright flashes of light lit up the sky, darting purple orbs streaking around in circles as if homing in on target, their paths winding closer and closer to slam into something above and explode. Kerian looked on as dark objects started to rain down about him, slack lengths of rope dropped past, pieces of quivering charred flesh, blackened feathers, a piece of claw. Kerian hit the bridge hard, dropping to one knee and crying out in pain. The scent of burnt flesh reached his nostrils, the harrowing sounds of his stallion in distress coming from behind him. Octavian appeared, dripping blood from several gashes across his ragged armour, his body limp, suspended at the end of the rope, his descent not quite the free fall, its progress slowed by the tautness of the rope stretching up into the mist above.
Kerian struggled to reach out and clutch the rope as Octavian’s body fell past but the stretch was too dangerous to make without risking falling over the side. He watched, agonised by his impotence as the rope continued to snake past. Scrave descended through the haze, surrounded by a cloud of blackened and singed feathers swirling about him, his vertical speed keeping pace with Octavian’s, his Elven face a mask of concentration, his left arm tightly constricted by the length of rope attached to the falling gypsy.
“I can’t slow us.” Scrave cried in dismay as he fell. “My spell cannot arrest our fall.” He dropped past, following Octavian to be swallowed up by the mist. Kerian felt the coil of rope slide at his feet as it started to whip off after the two men. No! He could not be pulled over after them. He set off back towards Toledo, knowing that each staggered step was only a momentary respite from the yank that would send him tumbling after his companions.
Toledo neighed loudly, as he suddenly charged out of the mist, eyes rolling in fear, causing Kerian to dodge to the side or risk being trampled as his mount came through, its flank awash with blood from talon marks scoring its side. He snatched at the stallion’s reins holding on for all he was worth as the rope at his waist finally snapped tight, yanking him off his feet and dragging him to the edge of the bridge.
The rope slowed as he dropped down, the reason for the knots along its length now clearly understood. As each knot hit the lip of the bridge, they slowed the rate of descent of the rope, juddering and shuddering as each knot caught in turn before jumping over the edge. Toledo dropped low, his hooves clattering, struggling to find purchase.
Kerian’s legs scrabbled on the slick surface, his boots slipping and sliding as the rope continued to yank one knot at a time over into the abyss. He looked up at Toledo, noting the terrified look in the stallion’s eyes as it took the strain of the two men and the weight of Kerian hanging from its saddle. It was an impossible task, something Toledo could never hope to manage but Kerian refused to give up without a fight. One of his boots slipped off the bridge, kicking out at thin air with nothing to prevent a fall. His other boot lashed out in panic pleading for grip and miraculously caught a foothold.
The weight snapped across Kerian’s waist, making him scream. It felt like he was being cut in half! He struggled to hold firm, tried to bring his other boot around and gain purchase. His armour creaked and groaned, incredibly taking the brunt of the force and preventing his fears of being ripped apart from becoming reality. He spat his anger between clenched teeth and sucked in a breath, fearing he would soon pass out.
“Back up Toledo, please back up.” He begged, knowing that if he let go of the reins then he, Octavian and Scrave were all finished. The stallion struggled to place itself, shaking its head, its body trembling as it strained against the incredible weight it was holding. Kerian held his breath as the titanic tug of war initially remained a tenuous stalemate.
“Come on boy.” He willed. “I know you can do it.” Toledo shuddered, his breath snorting from flared nostrils, blood dripping from his many wounds. Kerian dared not look behind him, knowing that if he stared into the mists, he would probably give up the fight and admit defeat. His boot scrabbled again then caught on something, finally giving him two legs with which to hold ground. Toledo wheezed loudly, then pulled with renewed vigour as Kerian strained to straighten his own beaten frame, his spine creaking and crackling in tune with the armour he was wearing. The rope shuddered as one knot popped back onto the span, making Kerian think it was his spine breaking and not the rope actually moving.
“One thing is for sure.” Kerian grunted as he locked his legs. “I’m going to be a lot shorter when this over.” He strained at the rope, trying to help Toledo pull back and was rewarded by first one, then another knot popping free over the edge and back onto the bridge. Toledo continued to retreat, his breathing laboured, the strain visibly telling on the stallion as it struggled inch by inch to pull back. They were doing it. They were actually doing it!
Something large and black swept across the bridge, wings cracking as they beat at the air.
“Come on!” Kerian screamed. “Pull damn you!”
The return of the winged monsters galvanised Toledo into action making the hors
e pull harder than ever, drawing on every reserve it had as it struggled to pull the rope back onto the bridge. A claw landed on the span beside them, crushing the rope beneath it and giving Toledo and Kerian an unexpected reprieve as the weight they were holding suddenly ceased.
The knight recognised the chance for what it was, rolling backwards as another claw came down before darting between the creature’s legs, pushing his way through the monster’s tail feathers and back towards the edge of the span. The massive bird hopped as it felt the spare rope coil about its legs. Jumping up only for the rope to snap tight again, pulling its legs out from under it and smacking its face onto the bridge.
Toledo judged the moment to perfection, kicking out in a last-ditch effort that caught the creature in the face making its neck snap back and it suddenly went still. Kerian dropped to his knees and stared down off the edge of the bridge, following the rope down and was surprised to see the struggling figure of Scrave just below him. The rope was still constricted around Scrave’s left arm, the limb now at an unnatural angle, the hand swollen and black as the weight of Octavian kept the rope tighter than a vice.
Kerian watched the Elf twist one way then the other, his right arm flailing at the left, beating the useless appendage in frustration at his failure to free himself from the ropes so cruelly binding him. Scrave reached into his robes with his free hand, struggling for a moment then let out a cry of triumph as he drew out a weapon, confirming Kerian’s suspicions.
He stared down upon the malevolent dagger, not daring to believe his eyes that the cursed blade had managed to find itself near to him again. Ruby eyes sparkled, gilded scales gleamed and a cold chill seemed to penetrate Kerian’s bones causing him to shiver. The dagger writhed about Scrave’s wrist settling itself easily within the Elf’s grasp displaying a familiarity that could only have come with experience. Scrave grunted as he tried to stop himself swinging about, then moved the blade to beneath his arm and began sawing at the rope.
The Labyris Knight Page 81
