A Wolf in the Dark

by S E Turner

  'If that is all, we shall go at once, my lord.'

  They saluted their General and disappeared into the shadows.

  With his men gone the General ventured down below the main living quarters into the dark vaults and into the basement that housed the armoury. He passed through ornate corridors where whispering galleries held a thousand secrets and preying portraits followed him with inquisitive eyes. Several mahogany doors and a squadron of stairs led to a winding staircase that took him deeper into the bowels of the castle.

  The dripping sound of water indicated how far down he was descending, and the damp chill curled round his face. He reached the side of a locked gate and a burning torch threw a dim light. He unlocked the gate with a key secured to his belt and he went into a long rectangular prison. Straight away, his senses were heightened and alerted. He walked amongst the cold metal statues and felt a shiver run down his spine and recoiled as they rang out with the ghostly screams of a thousand men still trapped inside their metal skin. He could hear the thunderous roar of stampeding horses and foot soldiers full of fear charging into the depths of the unknown. The smell of alloys, wood, and ivory saturated the air and seeped into the porous walls of this timeless capsule. He could even taste the spilled blood from terrified souls that would consecrate the ground forever and nurture the next crop of wheat.

  He thought of all the battles that he had fought, all the soldiers that he had taken the life from, all the women who had lost a lover, all the children that had lost a father. He ran his finger along the blades of iron ore and around the gold hilts that stood bravely supporting the metal. Bows and arrows were made from the finest wood, and bronze was moulded into protective headwear and shaped into thick impenetrable body armour.

  He walked about the museum for a long time, playing out and reliving all the battles that he had won, witnessing the death that he had been a part of, glorifying in the depravation and loss of life. The hunger in him rose like a fury. The furore of total control ignited him, and he revelled in the taste for more slaughter. He was fired up for a massacre once again. His veins pumped round nefarious blood, and glory was in his sight. This victory would give him absolute power, and now, finally, he would wipe out that wretched vermin forever.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  'Please Meric, tell my people what you told me.'

  The physician took his maroon hat off and clutched it between his hands as he stepped forward. He bowed to Laith to acknowledge the request and smiled at Chay who had come in with them.

  'My name is Meri., I am an old friend of a lot of people here.' He looked around at the familiar faces. 'There are also two people sitting here who won't remember me, but I remember them fondly.' He looked at Namir and Skyrah. 'These two were so small when I first came here. It was Laith and Chay who looked after me, but it was a whole clan that saved my life.' He disappeared into his hat and crumpled it up nervously as he remembered. He looked up at Chay again and smiled. Laith's expression encouraged him to carry on.

  'Many years ago, I was a traveller who ventured through the mountains in search of my destiny. I was attacked by a mountain lion on the way and survived to tell the tale because this most honourable man took me in, and this respected woman showed me my vocation.' He nodded humbly towards Laith and Chay.

  They both bowed graciously to the accolade.

  'See, I told you it was true,' Namir nudged Lyall as Meric continued.

  'And now I stand here amongst all of you, as your humble servant and am now able to repay that unrivalled act of kindness.'

  What could it be, they all wondered? A range of bewildered expressions, raised eyebrows, and shrugged shoulders were exchanged amongst the audience.

  'I have come from the Palace in Ataxata.'

  Gasps and swivelling shocked faces expressed a renewed interest in the man standing before them.

  'I am the court physician and was summoned there a few days ago.'

  Wide, flared eyes hungry for knowledge pierced his own.

  'What I found there shocked me.'

  Skyrah swallowed hard.

  'Nearly the whole palace was dead or dying. Not many survived, I can tell you.'

  The clan leaned forward, hanging on his every word. Lyall cracked a smile and pulled Skyrah towards him in a triumphant embrace.

  'The Emperor is dead. The Teacher is dead. Most of the guards are dead.'

  The boys stood up and cheered. The roof of the hut nearly came off with the jubilation. They were dancing and swirling Skyrah around with such vigour and excitement, the leader had to step in .

  'Calm down, boys. There is so much more. Please, let Meric finish.'

  The clan sat down again, and waves of mumbled excitement rumbled along the rows.

  'The General survived. He tried to put the blame on the maid at first. She was found in Skyrah's room wearing fine clothes, but stone cold dead. He ransacked the room in a fit of rage looking for you, Skyrah.'

  Skyrah winced and said a silent prayer for the young girl.

  'But when I looked in the kitchens, I recognised the poisonous apothecary used in the oatmeal and the hot water.'

  Chay looked at her daughter with pride.

  'We ordered the rooms to be searched, and that's where we found more evidence of the plants used. I knew it had to be a clan girl. No one else has that sort of knowledge. There is not a living soul who knows so much about plants.'

  Skyrah looked to her mother again and smiled.

  'We burned the dead, the guards, the soldiers, and the servants. We burned the Emperor.'

  Cheers and applause rang through the hut and out into the camp.

  'But the General has now been made Emperor in Waiting. With the Emperor's son missing, General Domitrius Corbulo has been bequeathed the title. When he is sworn in, he will have control of the palace, all the estates, and all the kingdoms that go with the title.'

  'May the gods help us.' Jonha's chilling tone came from the back of the room .

  'He also has the Seal of Kings and wears it round his neck,' continued Meric.

  Lyall sat up rigid, his eyes fixed on the physician. 'What? He wears it?'

  'Yes, Lyall, I am afraid he does. He has sworn to wear it at all times, and I know from your father here, the despicable and murderous way it was taken.'

  'He will pay with his life.; I will not rest until he is dead.'

  'That is why I am here, Lyall. That is why I want to help all of you.'

  The clan hushed as Namir instructed: 'Please go on.'

  'The General is summoning an army. He is going to attack this clan first. He will take Skyrah back with him as his prisoner and massacre the rest of you. He will then take down all the clans and all the people in them: men, women, children and babes in arms. He is mad, quite mad.'

  'How long have we got?' Clebe's voice was thick.

  'I don't know… maybe a few weeks, a month at the most. He is still quite ill from the poisoning, so he will want to get fitter. He needs to recruit a new army, as the rest are dead, and that will take time.' Meric's voice grew anxious now. 'But you must get supplies in the way of armour, and you must enlist a lot more men.'

  'How are we going to do that?' said Silva.

  'I will put myself forward,' said Kal. 'My son is nearly three years old now. He displays the eagle totem that represents freedom. We are expecting another child soon. I have to protect my family so my children can live their life to the full. So they do not grow up in fear. Their freedom is their right.'

  'I will join you,' pledged Jonha the blacksmith. 'My Arneb is fifteen years old. I do not want her to become a slave to this barbarian or die at his blood-stained hands. By the grace of the gods, I give you my word.'

  Godan the carpenter was next to pledge. 'I will join as well.'

  'And me,' shouted Nemi the herdsman.

  'Count me in,' voiced Sable, one of the fletchers.

  And one by one, all the fathers of all the young children followed Kal's stance and pledged allegianc
e to the clan and their freedom.

  'I shall go and warn the others and get word to the clans that we need more men. Who's coming with me?' heralded Kal in a strong stoic voice.

  'I will,' said Jonha, punching his fist in the air.

  'And me,' voiced Nemi, wrapping an arm round Jonha.

  'Let's go right now,' urged Godan scrambling to his feet followed by Bray, his apprentice.

  'We need a lookout as well… to track the General and his men; otherwise, we have no way of knowing when they have assembled.' Laith's voice was grim.

  'I will warn the other clans,' hailed Jonha. 'Then I will camp in the forest with these men for as long as it takes. We will get word to everyone when the General is on the move.'

  'Good man, Jonha. Your daughter will be proud of you, and all you men who have put yourselves forward, may your totems protect you. '

  'It is an honour, Laith.'

  The troop of fathers saluted to their leader and made haste to saddle the horses and onwards to their call of duty.

  'What about armour, though? We can't get our hands on any,' cried out Clebe.

  'Oh, yes, we can,' said Lyall with a thin smile. 'It's in the castle.'

  'Castle Dru… of course.' Laith's look was chilled.

  'Yes, it's all kept in the basement.'

  'We will have to go through the cave in that case,' said Namir. 'It's the only way. Are you all right with that, Lyall?'

  'Of course, I am. I want the sharpest sword and the most lethal dagger, and I personally want to plunge them into the heart of that depraved General.'

  'Then you can take back The Seal of Kings, Lyall, and the legacy that is rightfully yours,' roared Laith, finding his triumphant voice. 'Come, let us go to the stone circles. We must pray to our gods and totems for added strength. We need help and guidance now. This is our darkest hour comrades.'

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The General decided to spend the next few weeks getting himself fit and battle prepared. He ate a rich and varied diet, taking lots of rest and looked after himself well. There was no more wine, spirits and overindulging. He locked away the expensive cigars that he and Gnaeus used to share. He began training straight away with his array of deadly weapons to perfect his sword fighting skills with both left and right hands. He called on his captains to train with him throughout the day until his arms fatigued from the motion and his hands and fingers bled from the grip. He now challenged himself to be the master of the sword, the bow, the dagger, and the spear. The thought of charging alongside the cavalry with all of those weapons on his person delighted him. Mounts were always guided by the rider's legs, and an armoured shield would be more than enough protection against a bunch of pitiful untrained savages.

  Nevertheless, he still needed to go out on training runs to become proficient and expert in all those disciplines. He rose at five in the morning and trained hard until nine. Then he took a light breakfast followed by rest and caught up with his paperwork. Lunch at one was followed by an afternoon of heavy training again. He took supper at six, followed by battle strategies with his captains at dusk, then retired to his chambers at nine. This gruelling regime continued for weeks until he looked strong and muscular with an insatiable hunger for blood.

  The weather had turned when the first of the recruits had arrived, and Vortim Vontiger had been appointed the new General in waiting.

  'Give them the dormitories, Vortim,' said Corbulo with a cruel smile. 'They are better than anything they've had before.'

  His successor rasped a throaty chuckle.

  'And supply them with lots of liquor so they don't feel too deprived.'

  'Do you want me to lock them in? After all, they are unpredictable barbarians. Who knows what they will do?'

  'No, Vortim, we don't want any complaints like last time.' Vortim Vontiger laughed out loud and strode out of the room, leaving a smirking Domitrius Corbulo to go over his plans.

  A few more days to allow the other recruits to arrive and then he would be ready to train them. He had enlisted a thousand troops by way of posters and leaflets, talks and recruitment. Each had been promised riches beyond their wildest dreams. A few were the soldiers and captains who had survived the poisoning, many were rogues who had nothing better to do, but mostly they were thieves and barbarians who had nothing to lose. The soldiers would train the rogues and the thieves in the arena. He had offered farmers huge amounts of money for their horses to replace the ones that the clans had stolen, but he never intended to pay them.

  His army would be a magnificent collection, an awesome spectacle and a force that would be far too superior to take on. He would crush the life out of those savages, starting with the Clan of the Mountain Lion. He would take Skyrah back with him to remain as his muse, his prisoner, and his dalliance. She would pay for the rest of her life for what she did. And then he would begin another offensive, and another, until all the clans and all the savages were either dead, imprisoned or his slaves. Soon, he would be the greatest ruler the kingdoms had ever seen. His eyes glistened and his lips moistened, and he began to dance as he conjured up the spectacular vision.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The initial ripples of fear had been replaced by stoic shards of vigour. Words of determination had rumbled through the camp, and while Namir and Lyall were preparing to go back through the tunnel, everyone else was preparing in their own way.

  Mothers and wives began foraging and preparing vast amounts of wholesome food. The totems were blessed, the tattoos were defined, and the elders sang in ancient tongues and chanted over simmering pans. Girls were carving a range of protective talismans. Destriers were out training during the day and brought back to the stables to have oil-soaked liniment rubbed into their legs at night. Men and boys had begun basic weapon training, the blacksmith was forging his steel, older children made flights and arrows for the archers, and younger ones made pictures for their fathers.

  'Your husband is a brave man,' said Laith, catching Orla hanging clothes out on her line .

  'I know he is, Laith. He really wants to show everyone that he can make a difference.'

  'And he will, Orla. Our children will grow up in peace.'

  Four year old Arran came running out, the eagle totem highly visible on his arm. 'Where's father? Where is he? I want to give him my drawing.'

  Laith scooped him up. 'Well that is a fine drawing, Arran. Did you do that all by yourself?'

  'Yes, I did,' cooed the youngster. 'It's my eagle helping father. I want to give it to him.'

  'He left while you were sleeping, big man. He didn't want to wake you. He is out in the mountains now—protecting you, protecting all of us.'

  Arran looked out towards the Claw. 'He won't be safe without my eagle drawing.'

  'Arran, he will be safe. He has many comrades with him. He has his totem looking after him. All of us have prayed for his safety. He has your eagle protecting him right now—he has all of our totems with him. But keep that drawing by your bedside and when you sleep at night, the eagle will fly with you in your dreams, soaring into the sky, watching and protecting. Then you will know he is extra safe.'

  The boy reached out for his mother. 'I'm going to put it by my bed right now.'

  'Will you look after your mother for me while your father is away?' Laith said kindly, handing him over to Orla.

  Arran hugged his mother tightly and sealed a wet kiss on her cheek. 'Yes. '

  'That's good. I knew I could rely on you, big man.'

  Orla smiled and settled her son down. The blooming pregnancy tired her.

  'After you have put your drawing by your bed, rest a while with your mother and tell her how your eagle will help everyone.'

  He ruffled the lad's hair as he turned and saw Jonha's wife chatting with their young daughter. He remembered choosing her name fifteen years ago. They were in such a turmoil deciding on a name. Wife didn't like what Jonha liked and Jonha didn't like what wife liked, so they came to him in all his wisdom. He remembered
reading somewhere in his distant past that Arneb was an ancient word for hare, and since all the girls bore the hare symbol on their arms, he deemed it a most suitable name. He smiled at the young girl, full of innocence and vulnerability. 'Arneb, such a lovely name and such a delightful girl.'

  They saw him and waved.

  'Where does the time go?' he asked himself. He waved back and carried on with his walk, leaving them to talk in the glorious sunlight.

  Close by, Ronu was coiled in a loving embrace with his spouse, and Clebe was in deep conversation with the bride he had recently wed. Bagwa was playing peekaboo with his baby daughter as his young wife looked on adoringly. And two old friends walked past them all and smiled at the signs of affection.

  'It's so good to see you again, Meric,' said Chay.

  'And it's good to see you again, as well. Where have all those years gone? '

  'It seems like only yesterday I was showing you the plants in the meadow.'

  'And what a difference that day made to two people,' began Meric. 'It gave me my calling, and Skyrah's knowledge most definitely saved all those young men's lives.'

  'It's a lifetime’s work,' began Chay. 'All the girls are showing such an interest now.'

  'And some of the boys, I expect. We all owe so much to you.'

  Chay tried to hide a blush as she dropped her chin but recovered sufficiently to ask his plans. 'Will you be staying with us a bit longer this time?'

  'Well, that's my intention, if it's all right with everyone. I don't plan on going back to Ataxata for a while.'

  'I am pleased to hear that, Meric, I do enjoy your company.'

  'And I enjoy yours too, Chay.'

  'Would you come to dinner this evening with me and Skyrah. I am sure she has lots of questions to ask you?'

  'That would be most kind, gracious lady. I am keen to find out the intricacies of Skyrah's deception.' A genuine smile and a crooked elbow invited Chay to be escorted down to the river's edge. 'We have much to catch up on, my dear.'