The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  “There is something very wrong about that man.” Commagin muttered under his breath. He shivered again and suddenly wished they were back out under the warmth of the sun’s rays. The engineer made a mental note to discuss this concern with Thomas when the captain returned. He looked up at the pyramid and wished he could somehow hurry them up and hand over the helm. The sooner the better.

  * * * * * *

  Richard carefully cracked open the cover of the large blue ledger and looked inside at the beautiful illustration of the prison cell. This he had sat and stared at every night, since he had first laid eyes on the plate after dismantling the magic book and springing open the clasps.

  As the lantern light swinging gently from the bulkhead fell across the open page, it started to transform from its intricate painting into an image that was as vibrant as it was real. A knight within the picture slid a lizard playing piece across an ancient chequered board sitting upon one bunk and was immediately taken by his opponent’s sorceress game piece.

  “Cranfelt, Providance.” Richard whispered, his summons making the two knights look up from their game. “Cranfelt, watch your tower, Providance is drawing your pieces out so he can take it with his warhorse. Oh and please tell Tobias that it is nearly time for us to be moving.

  “There is no need to tell me.” The knight in question replied, stepping out from the shadows, his body now transformed from the thin and emaciated figure he once was into a formidable warrior all bulked out and strong once again. “Your magic seems to have worked, my strength is returned.”

  “Did you have any doubts?” Richard replied smiling. “I told you I would look after you. You have to have a little faith sometimes Tobias. After all that is the currency I deal with.”

  “No doubts, Bearer.” Tobias responded. “We know you are always looking out for us.” He pulled his sword from his sheath and dropped to one knee. The other knights in the shadows copied their leader.

  “When you call we shall be ready.”

  * * * * * *

  “How are you feeling Marcus?” Violetta enquired as the monk finally cracked his eyes open at her tender administrations. “For a second there you had me worried. It was like all of the life was draining out of you.”

  “I don’t understand what happened.” Marcus groaned. “One moment I was fine the next I was falling to the deck and could not catch myself.” He closed his eyes and groaned anew.

  “Just lie there and take it easy.” Violetta replied. “Luckily for you I can fight magic with some of my own.”

  “My head is killing me.” The monk confessed, dropping his head back down onto the pillow. “Maybe something bit me in the jungle, or I am dehydrated but I’m always so careful so I don’t understand… magic did you say?” Violetta nodded.

  “I would stake my ‘top secret’ gumbo recipe on it.” she smiled.

  “But why would Colette do anything to me?” he spluttered. “I haven’t hurt her.”

  “I don’t think it was Colette, Marcus. She has her hands full enough with her own problems if I know her. It’s something on this ship. Luckily it stopped what it was doing before it killed you. Have you any idea what it could be?”

  “No idea.” Marcus confessed, his mind racing as he tried to sort out his thoughts through the mental fog.

  “It was draining your very vitality.” Violetta mumbled. “Absorbing your life. I hope you figure out what it could be before it chooses to attack you again.”

  Marcus closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning and offered a tired smile.

  “I hope so too.” He confessed.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Kerian watched Malum noisily devouring his meal and tried to assemble his chaotic thoughts by gently pushing a root vegetable around his plate with a fork and crashing it into a roast potato. He was not that hungry and the blue steak oozing blood on his plate was hardly appetising after watching the man before him eat.

  Surely, this scientist could not be the same Malum as that in the ship’s graveyard, because, by Thomas Adam’s own admission, that Malum had been there for a very long time and he had no bright flashing lights bobbing about him. He clearly did not recognise Kerian despite the fact Kerian had previously faced the monster down with Thomas. The quandary in question, Malum, suddenly regarded Kerian with an inquisitive look. He clearly wanted to know if there was something wrong but he could not ask, as he was too busy chewing on an oversized chunk of meat he had torn from the steak. Kerian smiled politely and feigned eating a sliver of carrot, gently shaking his head to reassure his host the food was fine. Fine if you wanted food poisoning that is.

  Something pawed at Kerian’s leg and he shot a quick glance under the table; his mind wondering what other laboratory experiment had slithered there, only to note that it was the little puppy that had earlier escaped its bed and it was now happily chewing on the leather tie that dangled from the back of the knight’s travel stained boots. Kerian nudged the jet black creature away but the puppy simply growled, then leapt back onto his boot and started chewing at the leather all over again. Kerian looked down into the Scintarn’s jet black eyes, noticing the little nubs jutting through its fur showing where the flint like armour would eventually form along its spine and across its forehead. To think this creature would grow into a monster? A loud banging from Malum, as he hacked at his steak, drew Kerian’s attention back to his own meal and he suddenly thought of a way of hiding his lack of interest in his food.

  Two hulking automatons constructed of sewn together body parts, lumbered into the room and placed extra tureens of vegetables and rare steaks down in front of the empty place settings. Then they produced covered desert plates they positioned alongside Malum and Kerian’s positions. Kerian risked a quick glance under the cloches and was amazed to see how delicate the desserts appeared to be, lines of gleaming sauce decorating folded pastry lattice, with fruits carved into small exotic blooms. There was no way such cumbersome flesh golems could have made them. Clearly, there was a chef somewhere in the castle depths, probably locked away and serving his own ransom enforced stay by preparing such delicacies.

  He quickly dropped a piece of steak on the floor and chuckled as the puppy ran after it, its front half stopping to pick up the morsel before the rear half of its body was aware its head had stalled, causing a floppy forward roll and a quick scamper to turn about and seize the prize. Malum looked up from his meal, juices running down his face and frowned.

  “You don’t seem to be eating much.” He remarked. “Is everything not to your liking.”

  “Everything is fine.” Kerian replied feeling the tell-tale tug at his boot once again. “I thought we were expecting another three guests? It would be a shame for all of this food to go to waste.”

  “We are. I’m not sure what is keeping them.” Malum paused and gestured to Agnezkia, whispering in her ear before the hound bounded away up the stairs and out the doors. “I am sure they will be along shortly.”

  Kerian followed the path of the hound, then found his eyes drawn back through the workings of the laboratory to where Octavian still lay at the base of his wife’s casket. He had apparently exhausted himself scratching and was now guarding the remains of his wife and child. Kerian noted the luminous ghost standing above Octavian and would have choked if he had been eating, she was glaring at him with a venomous stare and gesturing with her arms and then staring back at him again. What on earth was she doing? He knocked another piece of meat on the floor, using his napkin to mask the action and smiled at the skittering of claws on the stone surface.

  “Have you always wanted to be a scientist?” Kerian asked, trying to bring his attention back to his dangerous host and masking the sound of the claws below his feet.

  “I seem to have a certain aptitude for it.” Malum replied coldly.

  “Well your results do seem to speak for themselves.” Kerian remarked, watching one of the behemoths struggling to fill a crystal goblet with wine and
slopping half of it on the table. He reached across for his dessert spoon, judging this course at least, should be safe to eat only to find the implement violently jump across the table and smack him on the knuckles.

  “What?” Kerian looked up towards Malum thinking this was some kind of trick, but Malum was too busy sucking the marrow from the ring of bone lying at the side of his plate to notice anything. That was strange! He tried again and this time the spoon smacked him hard on the wrist, causing him to swear and drop the hidden contents of his napkin onto the floor. He lifted his feet and tried to spot the meat, only to find it had dropped onto his satchel. Kerian quickly tried to flick it off before the juices stained the bag but the puppy pounced on the treat and shook it from side to side growling, before diving under the satchel to eat its meal, its bottom up in the air and its tail wagging furiously.

  “Do you suffer from nervous tics?” Malum enquired. “You keep dropping your food and now you can’t seem to hold your spoon. I can cut a hole in the top of your skull and stop that from happening if it bothers you.”

  “No seriously, I’m fine.” Kerian replied glancing over at one of the serving golems and looking at the bolt protruding from its left temple. “I am absolutely fine.” Malum shrugged and resumed eating, leaving Kerian to look around the room again, his gaze finally returning to the casket where the spirit within continued to glare daggers at him. As soon as his eyes registered her ire, she flicked a finger towards him and the spoon jumped off the table, flipped and smacked him on the temple before dropping to the floor with a clang.

  “I’m really sorry.” Kerian apologised, bending to the floor to retrieve his spoon and cursing under his breath.

  “I can get my trepan set any time you want.” Malum suggested helpfully from the other side of the table, offering a smile that would leave Kerian with nightmares for weeks.

  “It must be the altitude.” Kerian joked, before turning back towards Octavian’s wife and doing his best to scowl back. The tragic ghost shrugged her shoulders and pointed again but this time Kerian finally realised she was pointing beyond him and not at him, instead directing his attention to something over by the window, then mimed something with her hands which again made no sense. He turned towards the window taking in the glorious sunset then remembered the cases standing there. In particular, the one holding the violin. She was mimicking playing the instrument! That was it! Although, surely, she could not expect him to play? All he could do was beat a drum and that was often at the wrong time! Give him a weapon and he was a master, give him an instrument and people often begged to be killed rather than listen.

  “You have a beautiful violin in that case over there. Do you ever play it?” Kerian asked, causing Malum to snort loudly into his wine goblet and splutter its contents across the table.

  “Play it dear lord no!” he laughed. “It was part of Octavian’s agreement. Along with his wife and child.”

  “Can I have a look?” Kerian asked. Malum’s eyes narrowed, then his face turned into a forced smile as Kerian lifted the satchel from the floor and folded it tightly in his lap, the implied threat instantly changing the scientist’s demeanour.”

  “Of course, of course.” Malum gushed. “Help yourself.” A huge golem clomped down the stairs and stomped into the room, thankfully diffusing the tense moment. It walked over to Kerian’s chair, dropping Octavian’s saddlebags and Kerian’s shield down at his side with a clatter.

  “Thank you for being such a graceful host.” Kerian smiled, getting to his feet and straightening his gathered possessions, checking everything was there before the golem stomped off again. He walked over to the glass case and stared down upon the violin that Octavian had told him about all those weeks previously. Looking at it up close made Kerian’s skin crawl.

  There was something foreboding about this instrument, something tortured in its shape and design that he could not immediately decipher. The main body was like a traditional violin, a squat figure of eight design shaped from an unusual grey hued timber. There was a rare sheen to the wood, enhancing the depth of the grain and the whirls within its surface, making the pattern appear to swirl as his eyes beheld it, almost as if it were liquid rather than wood. The neck and fingerboard appeared normal, four golden strings stretched taut across its length, until Kerian walked around the violin and noted the instrument from the other side. Then he realised it was carved in the shape of a woman in torment, her arms stretched out above her head, the peg box a cruel form of torture device crushing her hands together and forming them into the scroll situated at the tip. Her mouth screamed silently and anguish lines marked her face. The detail was disturbing but also exquisite, a long braid of hair coming down from the violins head curling over her left shoulder and snaking down between her breasts to where it was looped and knotted at her waist.

  Kerian walked slowly back around the case, placing the disturbing carving away from him and examined the front of the violin again, noting the piece of bone that had been utilised as the bridge, adding tension to the strings and the bright silver metal tailpiece that glinted rose pink in the sunset. The chin rest was worn smooth by many hours of playing and the bow lay lightly across the strings waiting for a maestro to wield it. He glanced back over towards the casket, noting Octavian’s wife nodding and gesturing that he picked it up. Kerian’s eyes roamed back over towards Malum, only to find the scientist watching him intently, suspicion in his malicious eyes.

  “Can I hear it play?” Kerian enquired.

  “Be my guest.” Malum stated. “Then afterwards I think we should look at my treasure once more.”

  “Oh not me.” The knight confessed. “I could never hope to do such an instrument justice. What about Octavian? I hear he can play incredibly.”

  “Really?” Malum’s eyebrow shot up in surprise. “He never told me.” He snapped his fingers and Octavian lifted his shaggy head from the floor and growled angrily in the scientist’s direction.

  “Now!” Malum screamed, stamping his foot. Octavian rose onto his paws and slunk over, voicing his disquiet with every step, his whole body quivering. He arrived at Malum’s feet, ears and head down. “Kerian wants you to play the violin. You will do as our guest asks or I will punish you.” Octavian yelped loudly, dropping to the floor, writhing in pain as Malum used his unearthly power to morph the gypsy back into the body of a shivering young man once more.

  “You bastard!” Octavian gasped, his body wracked with pain at the transformation. “I promised you I would be back. I did everything you asked but you still let my family die.”

  “The violin.” Malum ordered. “Now!”

  “Come on now.” Kerian snapped, throwing Octavian’s clothing towards him. “You heard the man, play me some music whilst I eat.” The gypsy stared at Kerian with his eyes blazing in hatred, his fists down at his sides.

  “How could you even dine with this monster? I knew you were a bastard but this is a new low even for you. After all the time we travelled together and the many times I saved your life. I should have left you to die.” He spat out a globule of spittle, hitting Kerian in the face and shocking the knight. Kerian stepped back, slowly wiped the spit from his cheek, then slapped Octavian hard across the face dropping the gypsy to the floor much to Malum’s delight.

  “Just get dressed and play as if your life depends on it.” Kerian warned before turning to Malum. “You will need to teach me how to house train him.”

  “I’ll be delighted.” Malum replied; a flush rising to his pale cheeks. “Please don’t let this impertinence worry you. I shall have him suitably whipped later. Return to your dinner. Eat your fill.” Kerian walked back to the table and carefully angled his chair so he could still see the ghostly presence in the casket and also Octavian backlit against the sunset, his head bowed, shoulders slumped, violin in one hand, bow in the other.

  As he sat, Kerian trod on something on the floor under the table, his boot skidding out from beneath him, making him drop heavi
ly back into the chair. He lifted his boot and noticed a smeared piece of moist steak on the tread. Of the baby Scintarn there was no sign. It appeared that even the puppy knew when it had enough of Malum’s cuisine! He placed the satchel on his lap and pulled the frayed ends of the strap together tying them tightly before lifting the crystal goblet from his place setting to take a mouthful of wine.

  Octavian drew the bow across the violin’s strings, causing the instrument to squeal in protest and Kerian to almost drop his glass. Malum looked up from his dessert and laughed.

  “I think someone has clearly been exaggerating their skills,” he stated drily.

  “Sorry,” Octavian coughed, drawing himself up and placing the bow upon the strings again. A bitter sweet melody echoed across the laboratory. The effect was hypnotic, as if every bubbling potion, dripping pipette, whistling pipe and gushing hiss of steam froze and held its breath to listen to the tune that flowed from the magical instrument. The hounds turned in fascination, cocking their heads to one side and even Malum looked distant as if remembering something from long ago.

  Kerian suddenly found himself thinking of Colette, of how the sun would shine on her long blonde hair, how her eyes would sparkle with warmth when she entered the room. He reminisced the tender moments they had shared in their too short time together causing a deep ache to grow in his breast and his hand to reach up to the amulet hanging about his neck. He held it as if he were holding Colette’s very hand, feeling a tear forming in the corner of his eye as the music rolled over him and he acutely felt his loss.

  The images of the subterranean temple sprang to his mind; golden coins spilling around his ankles, jewels and priceless artefacts sliding down mounds of treasure, the wealth of which could never be spent in a hundred lifetimes. The sword fight with Scrave, the heat from the lava and that final ill-timed throw of the serpent dagger.

  The images ran so fast, so fluid, he knew they were just memories but they felt so real as if his life were being replayed and was rushing before his eyes. The swell of the music lifted him onwards, the painful memories filling his mind and stripping him bare, leaving him vulnerable and helpless.