by S E Turner
Namir looked round to face a grim looking Dainn, holding on to a terrified Rufus.
'Yes, Dainn is right. We must go at once,' agreed Namir breaking up the celebrations. 'We shall share our stories later.'
'I have made these,' said Skyrah refocusing on her mission and putting aside the triumphant accolades. 'Get into them quickly. We have to get through the town without looking out of place, but we must hurry.'
All the boys clambered into the clothes she had made. Dainn and Lyall helped the drug induced youngsters.
'See, Rufus, I told you we would get out, but you have to stay brave. We still have mountains to climb.' Dainn wrapped a make-shift bandage round the lad’s wound.
'I'll stay brave, Dainn. I promise,' whimpered the boy clutching his injured arm.
As Dainn slipped the britches onto the drowsy lad, he felt the dagger still strapped to Rufus' leg.
'Shall I relieve you of this?' he asked kindly.
'Take it away from me, please take it away. I never want to see one of those again.'
He handed it to Lyall, who slipped the blade into the waist of his trousers. 'We've got to get past the stables,' he said, clutching the trembling hand of Wyn.
'It's all right. I have made some sleep cakes for the stable boys. Let me go first.'
The escapees were led into the sunshine, their heads hung low, and they gripped on to each other as if a perilous precipice edged before them. Spots danced dizzily before their eyes as they battled with the glare of the sun. Once the menacing dots had faded, they began to look around in earnest, frantic that a guard would appear and bludgeon them senseless. But no one was around. Mouths gasped open and wide eyes rotated as the deathly scene unfolded before them. The whole place was still and eerily quiet. An arm raised for help, a groan could be heard, as the sun kissed the skin of dying bodies. It was unlike anything they had ever seen. The boys looked in awe at the total chaos that one girl had managed to create. How had she done it? How was it possible? Any living thing was asleep, dead or dying—they didn't know which—and they didn't really care. Even an army would not have been able to enforce such a massacre on this scale, with no loss of life to their own men. Not one person suspected her, and yet she managed to disarm the whole fortress.
But now wasn't the time to ask questions. This was the day they had all been praying for—their freedom—and they followed their new leader.
As she got to the stables, she took her cap off and let her tumbling dark locks fall over her shoulders. She looked back at Lyall and Namir and winked. She looked a total vision of loveliness. She entered the stable block. There were only five stable boys in total.
'Where are the other stable lads?' she asked.
The boy pointed to the rows of bodies. Guards and servants all mixed together; some with horse blankets over them, most just lay where they were put. She couldn't believe it. So many people had been affected by her potions. 'What a good thing I had the purple aconitum, that's what did the most damage,' she thought to herself triumphantly.
The stable boy continued. 'There is a terrible sickness. Everyone is dying, the other boys went home, and we are all afraid.'
She looked around at the subdued stable that was now a sick bay and slowly a window of opportunity beckoned. She suddenly changed her plan. 'Yes, I came to warn you that something terrible has happened. You must get out of here quickly. Do not look behind you. Just go home to your families, and close all the windows and doors when you get in. Whatever you hear, do not go outside.'
'Why? What's happened?' asked a bigger lad.
'Sorcery and black magic. Death is on the heels of everyone. Some say it's the heat that has driven people mad, others say it is witchcraft. Whatever it is, you must leave, and go quickly.'
'What will you do?' they asked in unison.
'I will follow soon. I will get the rest of the horses out and look for anyone who can still walk. But you must go now.'
'Here,' said the boy, picking up some garments hanging from an old meat hook, protruding hideously from the wall. 'Take these britches and scout cap. You cannot ride a horse in that flowing skirt.'
'Thank you…?' she waited for his name.
'Macus, my name is Macus.'
'Good luck to you Macus ... and stay safe. '
'And to you fair lady.' He stared at her for a while until the disturbance behind him broke her spell.
Panic had set in, and the other stable lads scurried about frantically getting the horses ready.
'Don't come back,' she urged. 'Now quickly make haste.'
'Thank you,' they said together, and galloped out of the stable yard and off into the distance.
She climbed into the britches and tucked her blouse inside them. Her hair was scrunched up into the cap. She called the clans in. They were amazed at her transformation so quickly into a boy. But they had little time to gawp. The steeds were quickly tacked up and led outside. Sixteen horses assembled noisily on the cobbled yard—billowing and snorting, grinding the snaffles and chains inside their mouths, shaking their heads, and swishing their tails. Dainn and Lyall took the drug induced boys in pillion. Siri lifted his brother in front of him.
Skyrah, in her more comfortable attire, jumped on hers swiftly. 'Let's go!'
But Lyall wavered and held back.
'What's the matter, brother?' called out Namir.
'I can't go. It's too good an opportunity.'
'What are you talking about? We have to go.'
'Can't you see? The whole palace is asleep or dead. I can cut the heart out of the General, slay the Emperor, and retrieve the Seal of Kings.'
'You can do what? That's far too risky!' exclaimed Clebe.
'He's right, Lyall. It's not safe. I don't fully know the potency of the potions,' called out Skyrah .
'But look at that lot in there, they're not going anywhere soon. Look at them, they're half dead.'
'But I don't know about the others, or how much they drank; besides I do not know where the Royal Seal is kept. It would be far too dangerous,' urged Skyrah again.
'If we acted quickly, then we could do it. I know we could,' he persisted.
'But what if we can't, Lyall? What if Skyrah is right and the General and his guards wake up? We won't be able to take them all on,' said Namir.
'But I have this.' Lyall produced the dagger that Dainn had taken from Rufus.
'Have you forgotten the weapons that they have between them, and the rest of us have nothing?' cried out Dainn.
'Keep that for hunting, Lyall. Some of us still have injuries from the last few days, and you took a another beating this morning. None of us are fit enough.'
'Ronu is right. We are half starved with no energy, that's why the soldiers have to get the stimulant in us,' urged Norg.
'They would kill us all,' said Bagwa.
'We have to go now,' stepped in Dainn. 'It is unsafe here. We will get an army like we planned. It's the only way.'
Namir rode up to Lyall and put his arm around him. 'We have to go now; it is too unsafe. Look at Rufus, look at Wyn. What about Zeno? Can they fight? No, they can't. Their lives are in danger if we stay. We will get them home now. Then we will get strong, and then we will get our revenge. I promise, brother, I promise you. Just like we promised our father.'
'Please Lyall,' begged Zeno.
Lyall looked at the wretched crew of starving boys, the pitiful looks from Rufus and Wyn in front of him, barely hanging on as it was. All the hard work that Skyrah had gone through would be for nothing. He put his dagger back in the waist of his trousers and nodded to his brother, then addressed the clans. 'I'm sorry, comrades. I guess I am just getting too impatient. I thought we could do it without any more bloodshed to our people. But you are right, let's do it properly. Let's go and get an army.'
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Emperor opened his eyes and reclined as comfortably as he could. Most of the pain had abated, and now he merely felt deathly tired. The view around him was grim. As fa
r as he could see, dead and sick people remained where they had fallen. Over the last few hours, most of the moaning had faded away, and only the flap and squawks of corvids disturbed the quiet. He began to feel lightheaded again, and his eyesight was definitely ebbing away. On the very edge of his fading vision, many figures appeared to be moving about. They were grimacing and stooped in pain. He had never felt this bad before and had certainly never felt this close to death.
As the ruler of the Empire of Ataxata, and with the Seal of Kings in his possession, he had been privy to the best treatment and the greatest care, with honourable and trustworthy people around him. But these events were unfathomable and could possibly be treason. He needed to find out the source. The thought of severe retribution ignited him. He tried to sit up but was beaten back again with the pain.
The General turned to him. He wiped the froth from his mouth as he opened his swollen lips to speak. A frail whisper emerged. 'Thank the gods you are alive, my lord. The Teacher is lying next to me quite dead.'
'What happened, Corbulo. Does anyone know?' The Emperor groaned with exhaustion.
'No, the last thing I remember was the most excruciating pain in my abdomen, and my throat swelling so much that I couldn't breathe; but I don't know why it happened or what caused it.'
'We need the physician. He will know the cause.'
The General struggled forward to obey the command, but the movement made his head swim so badly that he was forced to sink back again, beaten by the powerful poisons in his body. He feebly waved his arms about to get the attention from someone, anyone. He didn't have the strength to shout. A younger guard staggered over.
'It is chaotic, master. Everyone is in a bad way. The physician has been summoned.'
'Good, good,' said the General meekly.
'What about the captives? Where are they?' spluttered the Emperor.
'I don't know, my lord. There are terrible scenes out here. Maybe they are in the dormitories, consumed by the sickness themselves. No one has been spared.'
The Emperor nodded a few times, relieved that the captives were still there. He closed his eyes. The General threw concern at the guard .
'Help get the Emperor into the shade, man. This heat will only make things worse.'
'Of course, master.'
The young guard wrapped the royal arm around his neck and heaved the Emperor to his feet. The guard, weak with fatigue himself, was only just able to move him. He signalled to a comrade by way of a faint whistle to get a chair ready in the shade. Even though the sun was still intense and burning brutally, the four o'clock shadows gave some protection.
'I will leave you here, my lord. The physician will be here soon.'
The Emperor waved him off and closed his eyes again.
Corbulo sat waiting for his sickness to subside. He slowly rotated his head to observe the scene. Some people were dead, that he was sure of. Others were coming round, albeit slowly, but they would be all right. He craned his neck to look into the arena. No one was there. No prostrate bodies, no blood, no sign of death. The guard must be right, he thought. They were all quivering in fear inside their dormitories. Wretched cowards, pathetic savages—they should have helped the dignitaries. They should have called for assistance. No matter. They would all burn at the stake now anyway—every one of them—and he would gladly light the fire. But more importantly, what had caused this mass destruction? It had to be something that had been consumed in the palace that morning. If it was anything else, then the bodies of the two savage boys would be in front of him right now .
Absent minded foolhardy cooks… they too would be burned alive for their actions. The conundrum tired him. He would launch a thorough investigation later. He retreated back into his chair again, tipped his head back, and with closed eyes, faced the turquoise sky above.
The physician lived outside the royal residence on the other side of the town. The elders thought it best that he resided outside the palace, in case of incidents like these. Then the physician would not be harmed. The soldier approached by way of a pebbled path that widened in front of a viewing platform that also served as a step up to the house. Two carved doors stood wide open, allowing a view of floor to ceiling of leather books, a rosewood drinks cabinet displaying a decanter and drinking bowls, and a dark mahogany sideboard with a bowl full of dried dandelion heads. The middle-aged physician sat in a large, green, leather armchair in front of a desk, his head bent over a scroll, a cup of dandelion tea at his side. He responded to the knock by putting down his quill and adjusting his maroon physicians cap.
'Enter,' a kind voice greeted his visitor.
The soldier saw a man in his mid thirties of slim build and neat appearance. The room's ambience suggested that the man lived by himself—simple and sparse with muted colours. The characteristic elegance of a woman's touch was not evident. Maybe there was a house servant to assist him, but certainly no one permanent.
'Please, sir, you must help us.' The poor man collapsed, the physician went to his aid, but a raised hand yielded him. 'There is no time. ,I will be all right, but please, sir, make haste to the palace.'
'I must tend to you. What good are you to the Emperor if you are dead?'
'But I fear the Emperor will be dead unless we go right now.'
Without any further questions, the physician retrieved his apothecary bag, and went round to the back yard to saddle up his tethered mare. Then he followed the ailing soldier to the palace. The chaperone was extremely ill and could barely hang on to the reins. His gelding was doing its best to keep to a steady trot and not unseat his mount. The hot afternoon was a disadvantage to them both, and the court physician couldn't get any more information out of his aide at all.
A buckled road weaved past the sun-baked meadows and adjoining wilting farms, through the quaint villages and jostling buildings, and into the royal borough. The physician noticed how quiet the villages were and how all the shutters were pulled together. An eerie silence floated like a heavy storm cloud, and not one person was outside to witness him pass through.
The roadside had been staked with long poles complete with the palace flag secured to them, and every door had a spray of harvested wheat tacked onto it. Not that he made this journey very often, but he was sure he hadn't noticed such behaviour at any time before. Those at the palace were a healthy bunch. Even the Emperor in his old age needed very little in the way of remedies and potions, but on the occasions that he was needed, many a boy would run out at the sound of his horse's hooves and appeal to the royal visitor for a tossed coin of the realm, which he duly obliged. Then there were the burly women getting on with their chores or gossiping over the hedge and clipping the rascal who had just retrieved a coin. But today was very different. Today it was dead.
He couldn't ask the guide what was wrong—he had little energy to ride his horse let alone talk. But he would find out soon enough, he thought, and continued the race against time in absolute fear of what would greet him round the corner.
The late afternoon sun was falling now, and out of the pink-tinged sky rose the palace. He combed his way round the outside courts and alongside the palace walls into the stable block. The horses were led away and another escort guided the healer to the Emperor. He followed the usher's lead down the path, trying to speed up the pace, but it was futile. Everyone was affected.
He passed rows of rigid, contorted bodies, disfigured faces strewn with bile and froth, their stone-cold glassy eyes still. They lay there unmoving, lifeless, all lined up in the shade of the grass-topped terraces. The immaculately manicured garden was blanched with the squawks of fighting corvids and the sounds of people struggling to stay alive. Among them was the Ruler of the Ataxatan Empire.
The healer fell to his side. 'My lord, it is I, Meric the physician.'
The Emperor slowly opened one eye. His face was pale and disfigured, his breathing slow. He trembled as he spoke. 'Oh, Meric, thank the gods, but I fear it is too late for me. Something quite bad has happene
d here. '
The physician looked inside his mouth and took note of the frothy saliva, he then felt his pulse—it was very weak. His skin felt clammy despite the heat of the sun. The whites of his eyes were almost yellow with dilated pupils, and he couldn't focus at all. The Emperor was slipping into a coma. 'Someone help me!' the physician called out urgently. 'I need to get Gnaeus into his room.'
Five guards, devoid of their usual strength, staggered over, and with the feebleness of young infants, lifted the Emperor to his feet. The General became aware of the commotion and stumbled over.
'What is it, Meric. What's the matter?'
'He has been poisoned, Domitrius.'
'What! How?'
'I have my suspicions but will need to investigate the kitchens first.'
'What can I do?'
'Bring my bag and I will try and treat him, but I fear it is too late. The powerful sleeping sickness of the poisons has prevented immediate attention.'
'And we were all out in the midday sun for such a long time.'
'Exactly. Dehydration and poison is a death curse.'
More guards came over to seek orders.
'Is everyone in the same state, Domitrius?' asked Meric.
'We all have varying forms. Some are already dead; others are extremely ill and probably won't make it. Those that are bearing up tend to be younger and healthier.'
'You will need to burn the dead. The heat will cause all sorts of diseases that will spread quickly amongst the palace. If the poisons don't kill you, then the contaminations will. Those that survive will be very weak for some time yet.'
'You heard the physician: gather the dead and prepare to burn them.'
The General led the remaining party into the palace. Two guards lay prostrate across his path. 'Get those two dead bodies out of the way quickly. Burn them or bury them, I don't care which.'
Scowler and Poxface were hauled unceremoniously away to their final resting place while the party headed for the staircase that led to the upper levels. The Emperor was weakening with every step. The physician was the only one with any strength now. Somehow, from somewhere, the General and the guards dragged the patient through the vestibule and stopped for a breath at the base of the stairs.
