A Leopard in the Mist

by S E Turner

  'There is a good reason. He was scared witless,' mocked Alverez, disappearing into the bushes to relieve himself.

  'We don't have time to look for him. We have to go,' Van Piers' tone was harsher.

  'I can't just leave him,' Namir persisted. 'He might be hurt. '

  'He is probably home by now,' snarled Van Piers. 'And we don't have time to go back there and check that he is safe. Now if you are not going to eat the food we gave you, leave it for the wolves. We are going now.'

  'I can't leave my friend.'

  'And we can't let you go back now,' Van Piers rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Namir was now truly vexed. 'What is going on here?'

  Alverez brought the three horses round. 'Nothing is wrong. We have told you the reason for our visit and what has happened to your friend. Now please, we are just following orders.' He handed Namir the reins of his horse. 'Look, we haven't got far to go. You will be given a nice room with good food when we get there. You will sign the treaty with the Emperor and then you will be on your way.'

  Namir reluctantly mounted his horse, but by midday the three men hardly spoke at all. Namir was tired of asking them the same questions and getting the same muted response.

  'What happened to my friend? What does the Emperor really want with me?'

  'We have told you. Your friend went back. We are just following orders.'

  'I do hope he doesn't keep me long,' Namir muttered. 'I don't have good memories about that place.'

  That comment was always ignored.

  Namir thought about how he would be on his way back in a couple of days. How he needed to get back to a home that breathed the pulse of the earth and laughed with the rising sun. Unlike this gods forsaken place where everything was either dead or dying.

  As the destriers plodded south along the river, the cottages became more derelict and overgrown, the trees became more spindly and diseased while cobblestones gave way to grey moss and raging lion's tooth. Farms were ghostly, outbuildings were tumbled down, and where many a homestead once overlooked the plentiful river, now stood broken gates with trampled fences and weeds in barren soil.

  By the time they entered the town of Ataxata, it was very different to the one that greeted him last time. It was nearly dusk for one thing and the streets were empty. The was no market. There were no crowds or hollow-eyed children swarming underfoot and begging. No fish wives screeching or pot-bellied butchers slaughtering. Not a soul abounded. No fountains spurted. Something wretched had caused so many people to vacate much of the city, and Namir had a strange feeling he knew exactly what that was. The formation of pink clad houses stood in rows like platoons of defeated soldiers, and the once flowering vines had been strangled dry by a carnivorous creeping ivy. Clawed triffids had populated every cracked wall and pavement fissure for as far as the eye could see.

  By now, the eventide sun was disappearing behind the horizon and it's fading rays were slanting down the slopes and washing the city with a pale golden light. Three stable boys were returning their horses to the fields after a day of riding, grooming and feeding. The road could be seen from the pastures, and from their position, they could see the convoy approaching.

  'We have company, Macus,' said Keris, despairingly. 'They have brought the clan boy back here.'

  'What?' Macus turned to look at the ghostly party. His face dropped. He shook his head. 'Cornelius.'

  'Why has he even come back? I wouldn't have done that,' said Aart, shaking his head.

  'They must have promised him something important to get him back here,' suggested Keris. 'That's the only possible explanation.'

  'Or threatened him,' said Aart with raised eyebrows.

  The three of them watched the party until it had disappeared from view.

  'I had better get down there,' said Macus when the scene was clear. 'Finish off here, will you?' The two other lads nodded to him and watched him descend the hill.

  The sky above the lines of rooftops and chimneys was blue and silver in the fading light, and it had now begun to rain again. In comparison, the palace had been looked after while the city had been left to starve. As they turned in to the wide entrance of the walled palace, Namir could see bright lamps burning, as window after window spread a golden glow to illuminate their path. Their horses walked along the wide driveway, flanked by the rows of manicured laburnum trees and aconitum bushes. Then they veered right and channelled around to the back of the palace. The pavilion was still huge; painted white with oval windows clad in pillars of gold, sitting on a well-kept terrace and immaculate lawns. As they took the final curve round the building, he saw the huge arena cut into the hillside, he shivered and turned away from the ghostly apparition. He felt sick instantly and brushed the memory from his mind.

  The three men dismounted and gave the horses to Macus, who had sped down from the fields at breakneck speed. Namir was sure he recognised the boy and studied his face intently. Macus dropped his gaze quickly and led the horses away. The soldiers nodded to someone behind him and went into the palace. Two guards came forward and escorted Namir to his accommodation.

  But instead of going into the main building for a proper meal and a comfortable room, as had been promised, the guards took him further along to a tower tucked away on a high mound. It was empty and derelict, tall and crumbling, with twisted bracken and treacherous stingers growing all around it. Perhaps it was some kind of look out post from a time gone by, but now, this really was his worst nightmare.

  'What are you doing?' He appealed with wild eyes and stopped in his tracks.

  The guards pushed him with rough movements. He tried to get away, but he was grabbed under the arms and escorted towards the towering stone edifice. The entrance was by way of a wooden doorway that had been recently cleared of debris. Behind it was three floors of stone steps, each floor stopped at a spy hole. The walls were cold, the tower was dark, and at the very top was a vacant room. The guard released the bolts and pushed him in: a small prison in a disused turret with a stool, a narrow pallet, and a bucket in the corner.

  'What am I doing here?' Namir cried out in total shock. 'I am here to sign a peace treaty.'

  'We are following orders and the Emperor will see you in the morning.'

  'I need to see the Emperor now. There is a mistake. I am not a prisoner. I am an ally come to help secure peace between the kingdoms as requested.'

  The guard smirked at his outburst. 'You can vent your complaints in the morning.'

  'I need to see him now!' Namir ran towards the door to get out but was pushed back with a heavy fist. He fell against the wall clutching his stomach. 'Damn you!' he shouted out, but his stomach knotted again, and he grimaced. He reached for his bag of medicines and curled up on the palette.

  The two guards had gone, and with a clanging of locks and bolts left him on his own.

  The night was very long. He caught snatched moments of sleep and found himself shivering in a cold, damp ball for much of the duration. Strange nocturnal sounds could be heard amid shuffling noises from way beneath him. He couldn't even be bothered to get up and seek out the disturbance.

  'Was this how Lyall felt in the tunnel?' he said to himself. 'Alone, cold, and terrified. Being forced out of the comfort and safety of your own home to find yourself in strange surroundings and not knowing what is going to happen next.' He saw the moon peeping through the bars of his primitive window. 'At least I've got the moon as a guide, Lyall, but I fear that my captors will not be so welcoming as yours.'

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Capricious clouds had been tantalising the sun all morning but had eventually given in to a clear day. Namir pressed his face against the bars and looked out. In the distance he could see the dormitories where he had been locked up a year ago.

  'How on earth have I got back here? What challenges does my totem have in store for me now? Have I not proved myself enough? Or is it to show me how strong and intuitive Skyrah is—that it is I who needs her, and not
she who needs me?' He berated himself constantly. 'I should have listened to her. I should have listened to the all-knowing and powerful hare.'

  He looked out of the opening and faced a carefully-laid-out central garden full of shrubs and herbaceous borders. There were bird statues everywhere. Narrow paved paths curved around flowerbeds, and miniature ornamental trees danced with the weight of dangling bird cages. Beyond the paved walkways and disappearing lawns stood the arena towering over the domain where they lived and trained for eight months. He shuddered at the memory.

  'And she is not here to help me this time.'

  He went back to his palette, sat with his head in his hands, and wondered how on earth he was going to get out of there.

  That same morning, he heard a movement and a bracing noise. The bolts fought against each other as the door was opened. He waited with anticipation to see who it was. Black velvet slippers made a hushed sound on the stone floor as a tall man entered. Loose golden curls framed a regal face with handsome lines, a chiseled jaw, and deep blue eyes. He wore emerald green breeches with white stockings. A silk shirt was ruffled at the neck, and the ensemble was finished off with a crushed red velvet jacket. But the man's demeanour was dangerous and his smouldering aura engulfed him.

  'Good morning, Namir. I hope you slept well.' His grin was wicked.

  'Well, actually, I didn't,' Namir replied indignantly. 'And I was not expecting to sleep in a prison in return for being so compliant with you.'

  The tall man laughed. 'I'm sorry, I know, but if I had told you that you would be sleeping in a disused tower, you may not have been so willing.'

  'So, what am I really doing here?' His voice was low and thick. 'I somehow doubt I am here to sign a peace treaty.'

  Cornelius laughed. 'Well, it is partly true.'

  'Partly true?' Namir was tiring of these games .

  His captor began to detail his true objective. 'Well, as you may know, I am the deceased Emperor's son. My name is Cornelius. I was in exile when you were last here. My father was a very wicked man, as well you know.' He grinned at the recollection. 'But I have had a nice little chat with Macus the stable boy, and I have also spent many hours referring to documents left by the General, so I have built up a picture as to what has been happening here.' He played with the ruffle at his neck whilst focusing on Namir.

  'And?' Namir's reply was curt and short.

  'Well, I need to know that your army is not going to try to overthrow me.'

  'What? Are you serious? Is that what this is all about?'

  'You have seen the town and the villages. You have seen the death and destruction, the absence of people. My home is devoid of life. No one wants to live here anymore. And you know as well as I do how it has come to such a dismal state.'

  Namir thought for a moment: a year ago, not one of them would have even dreamt that an entire city would be virtually wiped out by a young girl whose only aid was her superior knowledge of plants. No wonder the Emperor was concerned. He answered the Emperor as best he could.

  'Well, if you have spoken to Macus, then you will know what happened. That we escaped from the killing games because of my extremely resourceful wife and an army was gathered because we were informed of the General's planned attack. '

  Cornelius rubbed his chin and pondered, then he sat himself down on the stool and looked Namir in the eye. 'I'm just not sure that I believe you, Namir. I mean, the General was a very powerful man with a powerful regiment. I am at a loss to understand how a bunch of clan boys can overthrow his army.' He paused, furrowed his brow and tilted his head to one side. 'Do you see my dilemma?'

  Namir sighed and pressed his back against the wall. 'Well, I am sorry if you cannot see how a bunch of clan boys disengaged the Ataxatan force; but I can assure you we did. But it wasn't just boys—we had help from men and women, even children joined the mission, and the elderly came together. The clans united because our cause was so great. But we suffered casualties as well, in fact I nearly died and am still taking medication. So, if it's all the same to you, I really need to get back home now.'

  Cornelius furrowed his brow even deeper. He was not going to be compliant. 'But I am not satisfied with your answers, young man. So, I can't let you go. You might have your very impressive army round the corner waiting to attack me. You might have your potions and poisons ready to unleash on my surviving staff. No, no, you are not going anywhere until I am sure. And until I am, you will stay here.'

  'I don't have an army! I don't have any poison!'

  'And, yet, a year ago, that's exactly how you overthrew the Ataxatan Empire. You've just said it. And now you tell me that you don't have those things.'

  'That was in self defence. Our people came together for protection. I don't have an army at my disposal, you must understand that. We are not like you. Just because you wear fancy clothes and live in a fancy palace, you think you can have whatever you want, and do as you please. We are peaceful people and want only peace. That's what I thought I was coming here for—to sign a peace treaty.'

  Cornelius flashed his wicked grin. 'That was such a clever ploy on my part, don't you think.' He inspected his fingernails and picked out a bit of dust. ' My officers told me how your wife saw through my cunning plan. Perhaps you should have listened to her—she seems to be the one who I need to be afraid of here.' Namir sensed the danger. 'Don't you even think about it you monster.'

  The Emperor leaned into him. 'Be careful what you say to me, young man, be very careful. You don't know what I am capable of.'

  'You can't do this to me. You cannot keep me a prisoner!'

  The Emperor sneered back at him. 'Just you watch me.' He stood up from his seat, put the stool neatly back in its place, and without turning back, vacated the room. Namir couldn't believe what had just happened. He went to his small opening and stared out blankly. 'Why didn't I listen to you, Skyrah,' he called out as if she could hear him. 'Cornelius is right, you are the one with knowledge and foresight here. I should have listened to you.' His rims filled with tears and he felt them spill down his face. When he had exhausted himself with hopeless thoughts of escape, he coiled up on the straw and closed his eyes.

  Two days later, the Emperor came in again. 'Good morning, Namir. I hope you slept well in your, err, comfortable surroundings.' He looked distastefully around and flared his nostrils when he caught a waft of the damp cell. 'I have brought you some breakfast.' He handed over a plate of fresh fruit and rolls with a warm mug of milk. 'I have brought these for you in the hope that it will tempt you to be more honest with me.'

  'I have been honest with you,' Namir hungrily gulped the milk.

  'Well, can you tell me about the Seal of Kings then?'

  'I don't know anything about the Seal of Kings.' He licked the remaining drops from the side of the mug.

  'Are you sure?' Cornelius' eyes narrowed.

  'I am from the Clan of the Mountain Lion. I know nothing of Kings and Seals.' He stifled a belch.

  Cornelius looked repulsed. 'I have been looking at documents left by the former Emperor and the General, and they talk about Castle Dru in Durundal being targeted because it held the Seal of Kings.'

  'I'm sorry, I know nothing about that.' Namir had his mouth stuffed full of juicy ripe figs now.

  Cornelius was not going to give up. 'But the Seal is missing.'

  Namir selected the next fruit. 'Well, maybe the General wore it in the battle and he was buried whilst wearing it. '

  'Hmm, maybe, but I think you know more than you are letting on. I will leave you for a few more days and see if you change your mind.' Cornelius went to take his leave.

  Namir shot up out of his seated position, the fruit and rolls tumbled to the floor in an instant. The empty mug spun out of control across the room. 'No, please, please, you can't. I am not well. I am getting worse. My medication is running out. Please, you have to believe me when I say I am being honest with you. You have to let me go. I will die otherwise.'

  'Do you have an
army?'

  'No!'

  'Can you get hold of an army?'

  'No.'

  'Where is the Seal of Kings?'

  'I don't know.'

  'I think you are lying to me about at least two of those questions,' seethed the Emperor. 'My guard will come with rice and water. Every day he will ask you if you are ready to talk. If you are ready, and you satisfy my questions, then you can go. If not, well… I guess you will die in here.'

  'No! You can't!' Namir grabbed him by the shoulders. 'I am a human being. You cannot treat me like this. I do not have an army to raise against you.'

  Cornelius pushed him back onto his palette with one hand. 'You are vermin, you are scum, and don't you ever touch me again.' He wiped the imaginary infected part from a golden shoulder pad with the flick of a hand and stormed out, locking the doors noisily .

  'Barbarian!' Namir bawled out at him.

  There was no answer.

  True to his word, the guard came in every day with rice and water and asked if he wanted to talk. Each day Namir said he had nothing more to say. So, he was left on his own. He slept a lot and woke frequently. He thought about his father and remembered the recollection of his living hell.

  'The General wasn't there then. He would have undoubtedly killed me. Instead, the Emperor imprisoned me for two years in the deepest dungeon in the Palace of Ataxata. I spoke to no one; I had no contact with anyone except the guards who threw a daily ration of bread and water into my cramped cell.'

  'How did you survive that?'

  'A belief in the protection of my totem, a hunger to live, and the thought of Artemisia and my unborn child. All of those things. But every day, the guard asked me if I wanted to talk to the Emperor, and every day I said I had nothing to say.'

  And here he was, experiencing exactly the same torture as his father, except he was in a tower and not a dungeon.