The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  Cold steel glinted as the knights drew their blades and charged. Marcus acted on impulse, his training coming to the fore. He stepped in towards the nearest knight, his hand catching the tip of the sword, pushing it out to the side, just as another assailant lunged from the left, attempting to skewer Marcus’s foot to the floor. The monk lifted his boot seconds before the tip dug into the deck, then used the blade as a spring when his foot came back down, launching his body up high, letting him lash out with a kick as he turned.

  His boot connected with the first warrior’s head, smashing him to the side and sending him crashing over a wooden sea chest. Marcus reached out as he fell, snatching a partition sheet from its line and snapping it out to whip it painfully across the nose of the fighter who had tried to skewer his boot, making the man stagger backwards howling.

  “Stay still damn you.” Tobias cursed, lashing out, his arm sweeping high. Marcus ducked back under the sheets, jumping over the knight who had tumbled over the chest and scooping up the fallen warrior’s blade. The monk knew that his ability to use this magical weapon would be limited, indeed his competence with a blade was mediocre at best but in the close confines of the deck he felt the odds would be roughly even. He turned sharply, swirling the loose sheet about his left hand whilst lunging with the sword, catching another magical knight beneath his helmet, flipping it up into the air. The warrior automatically clutched for his headpiece, lifting his arm up, allowing Marcus to plunge the blade he held all the way to the hilt, burying it in the man’s chest amid a bloom of manuscript pages.

  He spun about, leaving the weapon in his foe, using his protected left arm to deflect another blade, before he struck a further knight in the chin with the flat of his right palm and rolled under another flimsy partition that was immediately shredded by scything blades. Marcus was determined to cross from one side of the deck to the other and staggered his path to throw off his persistent enemies.

  He dodged left, emerging near an alcove set in the hull of the ship, barely registering the faded posters plastered across the walls proclaiming the acrobatic prowess of the ‘Rinaldo Brothers’, Abeline, Plano, and their departed brother Lubok, from their days back in the Parisian circus. Marcus charged for the passageway, hoping to slip past his cabin and get help, just as another figure walked out into the shuttered lantern light.

  “Brother Richard!” Marcus yelled, sliding to a stop, then ducking as a knight’s arm swept over his head. He turned, delivering two rapid blows to the magical warrior’s kidneys which sent the knight staggering backwards, only to trip over one of the runners on the floor and crash down onto the deck.

  “Brother Richard, I am cursed. The ship is in danger. We must flee, gather the others. Someone is controlling the knights. I swear I did not summon them.” Marcus tried to explain as best he could, yet his mentor remained strangely calm, despite the urgency of his warning and the chaos of the knights crashing around them. It did not make sense.

  Tobias charged from the shadows, catching Marcus in the side and dropping him to the deck. He followed up with a gauntleted punch that rocked the monk’s head back with the force of the blow. Marcus rolled to the side, scrabbling to regain his footing, trying to get into space, rapidly fending off the blows, as he struggled to find a way to get Richard away from the danger rapidly closing in from all sides.

  “Fight them Richard. We need to get away.” Another vicious blow landed, snatching the air from Marcus’s lungs. He crashed back to the floor gasping, just as Richard stepped out from the shadows fully, revealing his betrayal by exposing the large blue book he held openly in his hands. Brother Richard looked down at Marcus disdainfully, his face turning into a wicked sneer. His expression clearly displaying the disgust he felt for the weak monk now being overpowered at his feet.

  “You poor deluded fool.” He stated disdainfully. “I am their master now.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The Taurean sky split apart with an angry crackle, yawning open several feet ahead of the prow of the El Defensor and belching forth a foul smell that instantly raised anxiety amongst the crew. The waters surged beneath the galleon’s hull, sucking hungrily at the ancient ship and drawing it relentlessly towards the magical portal that had claimed so many vessels in times past.

  Colette sat on the deck of the aft-castle, her eyes closed in concentration, her slim legs crossed. Kerian’s dulled sword lay across her lap, the steel naked and ready to hand, whilst a large sapphire, probably worth a small fortune, slowly crumbled in her left hand as it sent forth the magical tendrils of power contained within its heart.

  Rauph manned the helm, the Minotaur navigator carefully adjusting the heading of the aged galleon, so that she entered the gateway cleanly, ensuring the pitted stonework of the massive archway had clearance to both sides. Thomas stood alongside him, fighting hard to keep his emotions in check, straining his eyes towards the portal, scanning the mustard coloured sky beyond for any clues as to what terrors lay waiting within the graveyard. His nerves were on edge, his hand hovering near the hilt of his cutlass. This was it, there would be no turning back now.

  Almost instantly cries of alarm and distress started to ripple towards the captain from the prow of the ship. Nervous voices rose above the sound of the churning waters. The crewmen snatching up weapons as they noticed ominous dark lines criss-crossing the way ahead like some grotesque fishing net.

  “Turn around, turn about!” crewmen screamed but Thomas already knew with a sinking heart that their heading was set and they could never hope to manoeuvre the galleon when the current from the ship’s graveyard had already taken hold.

  “Brace! Brace! Brace!” Commagin screamed, reaching out and wrapping his arm about one of the lines, the crew around him scrambling to do the same. Thomas could only watch in horror as the crew he relied upon milled about in panic. Then the ship hit the net and the panic turned to terror.

  A gut-wrenching, splintering sound reverberated through the El Defensor, as first the figurehead, then the spars from the foremast became tangled in the lengths of chain strung across their way. Yards splintered and folded, canvas sails crumpled, whilst others teared as the galleon struggled to make headway.

  Smaller lengths of chain within the net first strained, then parted with sounds like gunshots, the separated links shredding sail and tangling with the rigging. Others held firm, snapping the smaller spars of the ship. The bowsprit bent ominously as it felt the strain, creaking loudly in protest before exploding, the forestay-sails dropping to the deck in an avalanche of cream canvas, the lines threatening to tear other rigging down alongside.

  Thomas started shouting orders to his crew, his eyes tracing the construction of the metal cage they were sailing into, noting the points where the chains had been secured to the ancient stone archway on either side.

  “Abeline, Plano, take the port side. Mathius and Austen take the starboard, we need to free those chains, do everything you can to give us some room. Weyn…” Where the hell was Weyn? Thomas looked up towards the crow’s nest and instinctively winced as the main mast became entangled with the rusty trap, stretching it taut and revealing that the net was secured to the top of the archway as well. The archer was still up there, valiantly struggling to free himself from his lofty perch before it also snapped like kindling. Weyn dropped down towards the next stay and hugged the mast, bowing his head to try and protect it as the mast above him was torn away.

  “We have a problem.” Rauph stated, causing Thomas to turn towards his colleague and shoot the Minotaur a withering look for stating the obvious. “The ship is too long to pass through the gateway with the net across it.”

  “The what...?” The blood in the captain’s veins turned to ice as he noticed the navigator spoke true. The El Defensor had not yet cleared the ancient stonework pillars of the archway, she still jutted several feet back into the world of Taurean. If Colette’s portal magic now failed, if the ship was caught between the two worlds, the gateway c
ould slam closed, shearing off the stern.

  “Damn!” Thomas cursed. They needed to get the ship through the arch. They needed more slack in the net. He looked up at the stonework of the port side pillar, noting the tricky footholds and the rough scaffolding assembled alongside it. The pillar was close enough to jump to from the rigging. If he could climb up to the top of the archway and sever the anchor points the net should fall away giving them the space to move safely through the gate. The captain knew his cutlass could cut through almost anything. He suddenly realised what he had to do. He turned to his hairy companion and stared up into his eyes.

  “Hold the fort. Don’t leave the helm, keep Colette safe.”

  “Hold the what?” Rauph asked looking confused but Thomas was already gone running for the rigging and starting his ascent. “Keep who’s safe?”

  Loud screams arose amidships as ragged figures suddenly swung from the port scaffolding and dropped onto the deck, rusty weapons swinging wildly, eyes glazed with madness, actions of half-starved animals rather than the sane crewmen that had once accompanied Miguel Garcia on his ill-fated barge.

  Some of the crew moved to meet the onslaught with what they had, whilst others tried to free the wounded galleon from her shackles. They met the new threats with a clash of swords and the clang of a heavy skillet but even as the crew moved to engage, eerie howls sounded from starboard and Scintarn hounds started to leap down upon the deck.

  Thomas tried to ignore the screams of the crew as the hounds jumped aboard below him. He tried to ignore the howls and the wails of those meeting their grisly ends. He had to focus, he needed to save his ship first and just pick up the pieces later. The captain gritted his teeth as he climbed, not wanting to admit to himself just how many pieces that may actually be.

  * * * * * *

  “Seriously Octavian. Did you have to?” Kerian wrinkled his nose in disgust as he lent forward to pull the oars, therefore putting himself closer to his travelling companion and the noxious stench he had just created.

  “I told you those beans were dodgy.” The gypsy replied sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders in apology. Octavian pulled back on the second set of oars, helping the lifeboat skip across the deep waters as they rowed their way down a treacherous channel between a ruined steamship named Pioneer and a schooner whose faded name appeared to be The Turner.

  “How many ships are wrecked here? This place seems to stretch for miles.” Octavian asked. Kerian stopped rowing in mid-action and used his hand to push up a streamer of green slime that stretched across their way, before leaning back on his seat and staring about him as the small rowboat exited the tight constricting channel and finally moved out into a small lagoon.

  He noted the decaying hulks piled high around them, the sad state of the warped decks, the gaping holes in the hulls allowing dank water to lap loudly inside the dark cavernous interiors and the broken windows that whistled when the wind passed through them. Everything here felt so sad, so pointless; much like his fleeting fantasy of finding Colette again.

  “All of these ships had to have been filled with people.” Octavian continued. “So where did they all go?”

  “I can only assume Malum tortured and ate them.” Kerian replied. “You know his hounds are trained to track survivors down and deliver them to him. Thomas and I rescued some crewmen from him in the past and I have seen the room where he feasts. It is not for the faint hearted.” He shuddered, remembering the grisly scenes deep inside the cruise liner Neptune. Octavian lifted his oars, letting the water drip from the blades and make ripples across the surface of the sea as he considered the gory revelations Kerian relayed.

  “But all of these people. Just think of the size of this place. That’s going to take some commitment. It must have taken a lifetime, no several lifetimes for him to manage this.” The gypsy paused, before a sudden thought occurred to him as he realised the enormity of the casualties involved. “Where are their belongings, their jewellery, their treasures? We searched many vessels for food and yet I never found a single travel bag or chest. Not a single personal item… Oh watch out!”

  Kerian ceased rowing and glanced over his shoulder just in time to spot a jagged mast jutting high from the water. He adjusted their course, dipping one oar into the water to help swing the boat around and avoid the obstructing mast. The fighter gazed down through the opaque surface at the spectral shape of a main deck submerged below them, its surface draped with green curtains of weed that waved and swirled in the current. The little boat cast a shadow on the wreckage like a dark ink blot that slowly drifted across the sunken emerald backdrop.

  “It just doesn’t make any sense.” Octavian confessed, dropping his oars back into the water and pulling again. “Their belongings have to be somewhere.” He paused, leaving Kerian struggling to understand if a question had been asked or if he was supposed to respond in some way. Octavian tilted his head as if hearing something that the knight was unaware of, then gestured with his hand.

  “Something is going on over there.” He pointed. “I think we should investigate.” He pulled at the oars again, shooting the lifeboat along and gestured for Kerian to do the same. Kerian observed his companion row then timed his own strokes to match, pulling hard and easing the boat around the hull of a listing freighter called the Suduffco, its wreckage creaking ominously as they neared.

  As soon as they cleared the bow and passed beneath the rusty anchor, the sounds of a distant conflict reached Kerian’s ears. He turned in his seat, his eyes widening in shock as he drank in the sight of the square masted vessel he had been questing for all of this time; the waters foamed angrily about her hull, the rigging damaged and misshapen, the galleon appearing to be stuck like a fly in a huge web. People milled about the galleon’s decks, darting one way then the other, pursued by dark shapes and sword wielding foes. A chilling howl cut the air. There was no mistaking that sound. Scintarns.

  Kerian swallowed hard, trying to steady his rapidly beating heart. Despite the El Defensor’s injuries, she remained a regal looking classical vessel and he knew in his heart that Colette was upon those decks possibly fighting for her life right now. He needed to get over there as quickly as possible.

  The huge freighter groaned in protest alongside them, its stern lifting as the rush of water from the open gate flooded towards them. Indeed, the force of the water was setting the whole morass of ruined ships nearest the gateway creaking and grinding in response as they jostled with the force of the current jetting into the graveyard. Kerian tugged furiously at his oars, feeling the little boat struggling to make way as it too became swept up in the force of the water rushing beneath her hull.

  “Come on damn you!” Kerian cursed, pulling for all he was worth. “I can’t let her go again. I need to get on that ship!” Octavian threw himself into the task, pulling on the oars as hard as he could but for every foot that they gained, they were swept several more away. Kerian’s mind fought back the panic threatening him. To come so far and be so close.

  The Suduffco loomed closer as the rowing boat inched towards the battered hull; a chill falling upon the two rowers as they were swept into her shadow. Several loud snaps echoed through the substructure of the wreck and the vessel began to turn, her prow inching out into the force of the flood, her stern crushing several ships lying beside her to kindling. The prow loomed over them, sweeping everything before it in a surge of water and accumulated debris.

  “Pull damn you!” Kerian screamed as the huge structure creaked and cracked its way towards them, jetsam from the deserted decks tumbled down her rust eaten sides and sank into the depths as she swung her tortuous turn. In that exact moment, as the freighter’s slow arc brought it between them and the El Defensor, the current pounding the little row boat was cut off by the ships heavy bulk.

  “Row now!” Kerian roared, pulling at the oars until his muscles ached and his body felt coated in sweat. They both bent to the task, refusing to look up at the huge wall of ruste
d steel, flaking paint and weeping rivets that rolled relentlessly towards them. The little boat surged forwards as the ship edged closer, then with a huge groan the Suduffco slipped past them, pushing the boat away with its wake and sending it bobbing over towards the line of archways surrounding the graveyard.

  Kerian looked along their unexpected direction of travel and regarded the line of silent gateways, his gaze tracing along the top of the archways and back over towards the trapped Spanish galleon. There were hand holds available to him, evidence of the erosion these huge stone pillars had experienced over the millennia they had stood here. It would not be easy but it was worth a try. He pulled sharply on the starboard oar, easing the small boat towards the nearest darkened archway, then pulled on the oars allowing the small vessel to cut diagonally across the current rather than row against it, determined to bring the pillar closer.

  The current continued to roll around them, making the relatively short distance to travel an agonisingly slow one, especially with the sounds of the skirmish from the El Defensor ringing in his ears. Kerian bent his back to the task and rowed using reserves he never knew he had before the boat finally crunched up against the stonework. He dropped his oars, stood up and turned towards the monument, noting the holes in the stonework as the boat rocked up and down.

  “Hold her steady.” He requested, reaching out and then suddenly jumping across the water to the crumbling edifice, leaving Octavian staring at him with a look of sheer surprise.

  “What exactly do you think you are doing?” The gypsy yelled, fumbling with the oars. “Get back into the damned boat Kerian. We can find another way around.”