A Leopard in the Mist

by S E Turner

  'You see, it is very unsafe,' whined the guard. 'No one has been in here for years.'

  Lyall looked at him in disgust and began the ascent to the top of the stairs where he came across another bolted door. 'Open it!'

  The guard turned the lock, pulled the bolts free and as the hinges creaked open, the full horror of the room was exposed. Lyall retched. A smell of dampness, sweat, and urine made him gag, and he had to take in tiny sips of air through a gloved mouth. It did little to stifle the putrid air, and he suddenly felt nauseous and had to swallow the rise of vomit that came to his throat.

  The room was small and squalid. It would have been dark too, save for the bars that speared a small window and allowed a few beams of light to pierce through the gaps.

  He walked in while the guard remained at the precipice, ready to run if needed. Lyall felt the palette. It was still dented from the weight of a body. He looked out of the window and could see his friends. He called out to them, but they could not hear him. He wiped his fingers on the bars. There was no dust. He saw the stool and wiped that as well—still no dust. He thought that strange. He looked around again for more clues. But there were none. 'What is this place used for?' he wanted to know.

  'I don't know,' cowered the guard. 'I thought it had always been condemned. I honestly didn't know any of this was here.'

  Lyall glared at the cowardly creature. He looked him up and down. No one told the truth in this gods forsaken place, and he pushed past the frozen excuse of a man.

  'There's nothing in there,' he called out to his comrades when he rejoined them. 'Sheathe your swords, we are leaving.' He pulled himself up into the saddle, bade his farewells to Macus, and spurred his horse into a gallop out of the courtyard.

  Out yonder in a paddock, out of sight, and far away from prying eyes, Namir was bound and gagged in an excruciating fashion while his horse was tethered next to him.

  Inside the hall of mirrors, the Emperor was seething. He bit hard into his knuckles until they bled. His eyes were fixed on the ground, seeing only lies and deception in its path. Hatred and venom fuelled his rage, and he breathed deeply out of flared nostrils. 'How dare he lie to me. How dare he. Sending out messages to his brother to come and save him. Does he think I am that much of an ignoramus that I won't know what has been going on?'

  He stood up and prowled the length of the hall, shaking his head and grinding his teeth. 'Does he think I am an imbecile? Does he really think that he can get one over me and that I won't see it?' His golden coat flapped around him as he paced and turned, his face concaved as he became more loathsome with anger.

  'That brother of his, accusing me and challenging me. How dare he violate my position?' And with that, he flew out of the door towards the tower and waited there for Namir to be brought back.

  Round the corner on the open road, Lyall was venting his concerns. 'Namir is not dead. He is alive, I know it. He has to be somewhere close by.'

  'But we looked everywhere. We checked everything,' said Dainn.

  'That Emperor, he is not to be trusted. I saw it in his eyes.'

  'I agree with you, Lyall,' said Lace. 'That man is a wretched creature. Like everyone else in that place.'

  'We will check out every hovel and outhouse to see if we missed him,' said Lyall, gravely. 'We will look in every cave and hollow on our journey back. We have to search everywhere, and make it known to all the clans for miles around to look out for him. It might take us several weeks. But right now, I fear for his safety, where ever he may be. I pray that his spirit guides look after him. I pray that he is elsewhere and not back there, for if he is still in the palace, his life is in even more danger than before we went there.'

  Lyall was more concerned than ever.

  'I never imagined I would meet anyone more vile and wicked than the General, but after meeting that young Emperor, I fear he is the most extreme type of sadist.'

  He remembered Laith saying to him: '....just when you think you have met the most depraved human being, there will always be one more who is even worse.'

  'What can we do?' asked Torré.

  'We check first if he has made it to a clan village that he knows of. After searching the clans, I am going to the Clan of the Mountain Lion and moving everyone to the castle. '

  'I noticed how you didn't tell him everything, particularly who you are and where you come from.'

  'No, I didn't dare. But I will take the clan back with me to safety. We should be safe for now because the winter is upon us. But Namir is not safe at all. If he is not with a clan – then he will die.'

  He kicked his horse into a gallop, and with the others in pursuit, made haste to the ridge of the mountain.

  Namir was now back in the tower and the Emperor was throwing what little possessions he had out of the room. He stripped the cloak off his shoulders and threw it out of the door, he ripped the shirt of his back and launched that down the stairs. Namir’s boots followed, one after the other. He was pressed against the wall shivering in fear.

  'You lied to me!' the Emperor bellowed.

  'I haven't lied to you.' Namir retreated further.

  The Emperor whacked him round the head and nearly knocked him out. 'You didn't tell me about a brother and an army.' He kicked him in the ribs with a wicked boot.

  'You didn't ask about a brother. He doesn't have an army.'

  'Don't you be insolent with me!' A cruel fist found his cheek.

  Blood trickled down his jaw, and the swelling started immediately.

  The Emperor bent down and tilted his face menacingly close to the red mess that Namir was in.

  'As a punishment, you will stay in here for the rest of your life. You will be fed on rice and water so that you live long enough to think about the errors of your ways. You will not see your brother again. You will never see your wife and child. And that is the price you will pay for lying to an Emperor.'

  Then he saw something shining round Namir's neck. He reached for it between his fingers. 'And what is this?'

  'It's mine. It's a picture of my mother,' Namir's voice trembled.

  Cornelius howled with laughter. 'Really? Your mother? Well you won't be needing that anymore, will you?' He ripped it from his neck.

  Namir roared and lunged at the man, but he was too weak, stumbling back again he tried to make sense of the Emperor's behaviour. 'Why do you hate me so much. What have I ever done to you?'

  'It's what you could do to me that concerns me. That's why I have to stop you now, while I can, before you kill me and take what is rightfully mine.' He put the locket in his top pocket.

  'I don't want what you have,' whimpered Namir frantically. 'I only want my simple life. I don't want any more than what I already have.'

  The Emperor kicked him again in response. 'Stop lying to me, you dreadful creature. I should kill you here right now.' He paused and lowered his tone. 'But where would be the decency in that?'

  He straightened his apparel, wiped the blood off his fist with a silk handkerchief, and strode towards the door. He turned as he reached it .

  'This is the last time you will see me. If you choose to tell me about your brother and his army, then I will set you free. If not, then you will die in here and rot.' He looked about the small squalid room; it didn't take him long. He opened the door, stopped, and reached into his pocket. 'Someone once told me this was an almanac.' He looked at the contents dismissively, then at Namir. 'I think you might be needing this.' He threw Namir a pack of cards.

  The door was closed and bolted. Footsteps retreated down the steps. Then there was nothing. Namir was now frozen, injured, and dreadfully weak. He rolled up into a tight ball and wept. And all he could think about was what his father had told him all those years ago:

  'You must remember that not everyone is good and honourable, happy with the simple things in life, and just content with what they have been given. There are so many that will go to sadistic and brutal lengths for even more recognition and power.'

  Chap
ter Twenty-Eight

  They had been travelling for most of the day. The autumn air was cool, and tiny fireflies drifted and shimmered in the diminishing sunlight, so it seemed they were journeying through a strange kind of vortex. The party had covered some considerable distance, and the dark grey clouds of Ataxata seemed a million miles away now. Leading the troop across barren land and over glacial mountains was hard going, and it was late afternoon when they reached the walls of a fort: a crescent of dark stone that formed a huge impregnable wall. It soared from the land around it like a miniature mountain, with turrets and towers standing proud against a blood red sky. The stone gatehouse was in the centre with two lookout towers either side. A new citadel formed the centrepiece, and its walls were a paler shade of grey. It hadn't yet shown the ravages of time and was completely free of bearded moss and patches of lichen. Beyond the curtain wall there appeared to be more than one hundred hectares of animal grazing land, complete with its own slaughterhouse, storerooms and outbuildings, while within the wall was a town for about five thousand inhabitants or more.

  'Who goes there?' came a booming voice from one of the towers. A hiss of raised bows with deadly poised arrows were aimed directly at them.

  'We come in peace,' said Lyall, honourably. 'I am King Lyall of Durundal and these are my comrades. I am searching for my brother, Namir. I wondered if he had been taken in here.'

  'Why would your brother be here?' came the hollow reply.

  'Because he had been held by the Emperor of Ataxata against his will. He is sick, and I believe he is lost somewhere. I am hoping he is with you.'

  'Wait here.' The Captain of the Guard whispered something to a sentry who sped off in the direction of the central buildings. The arrows were still aimed at them. Their horses moved about noisily, swaying their heads and grinding snaffle against their teeth. The party were getting jittery now as the minutes ticked silently by.

  'What's keeping them?' said an anxious Hali.

  'They have to get permission I guess,' answered Lyall as reassuringly as he could.

  Lace began to feel the weight of her bow strapped to her back, and her fingers strummed the arrow heads. Torré had his hand on the hilt of his sword flexing his grip. The others sat silently waiting .

  Eventually the gates to the fortress were slowly opened and Lyall's procession filed in. The guard in the tower pointed towards the main building and the soldiers lowered their weapons.

  'That is the Grand Committee Room. That is where our leaders will help you.'

  A stable boy ran up and waited for them to dismount so he could take the horses.

  'You won't be needing those weapons here, either,' said the Captain with a glare, and signalled to the returning guard to relieve them of their armaments. Torré and Lace hesitated.

  'We are peaceful people,' the Captain assured them. 'We are sentries to keep out those who wish to harm us and nothing more.'

  'How do you know we are peaceful?' queried Dainn.

  'Because your enemy is the same as ours. Now, please, our leaders are waiting for you in the Grand Committee Room.'

  The Captain turned and went back to his lookout post. The horses were led away, and the weapons were taken to the guardroom to be returned on the way out.

  The group looked about them with eyes as equally wide as their mouths.

  'I should take note of this place,' said Lyall with a heart full of admiration. 'It is the most incredible fortress that I have ever seen.'

  Even though the sun was going down, they could still see that the buildings were light and spacious and comfortably arranged. The white plastered walls made them look new and clean, and the few people who were still working, running errands and going about their business mingled about them wearing long grey robes and welcoming smiles.

  One of the buildings looked like a school. Though empty at this late hour, it was complete with climbing frames, a maze, and a small allotment for the children. Another was a place of worship, and a group sat reading from a book in front of an administrator. The many shops were closing down and the outside stalls selling fresh fruit and vegetables were now giving away their leftover produce. The last of the day was fading but they could just about see that the fields out yonder were full of sheep, cattle, pigs and geese while more acres were yielding wheat, corn and barley. Grapevines hung in huge glasshouses, and orchards of apples, pears, and plums were scattered beyond that. Candles and torches were beginning to be lit now, and their ambience changed the atmosphere of the town entirely. Following the procession of light, the party made their way to the grand portal of the committee rooms.

  The huge double doors stood open, and the light from a hundred candles poured out onto the stone steps before them. For a few moments, they stood and waited, but then Lyall led them up the flight of polished ramps to the yawn of its mouth. Stopping at the entrance, he waited for his comrades. 'Everybody all right?' he asked, searching for reassurance himself as well as for everyone else .

  'Yes,' came the collective response.

  After another pause, they stepped through into an enormously high and wide hall. The polished wooden floor stretched away for a seemingly impossible distance, and the high domed ceiling, which had them tilting spellbound heads as far back as they could reach, was decorated with the most exquisite frescos, studded with gilt stars and celestial moons.

  Making their way through the vast room, they noticed that the illuminating light source came from the monstrous black standing candelabras that lined their path, and the only recognisable sound was of their leather boots against the vacuous empty space.

  At the end of the hall ran a long oak table, and seated there were seven females. They all bore the same lines of maturing years, and all wore the same long white robes with golden sashes. One sat in the middle and had a noticeable air of superiority. Wearing long braids of greying hair around a smiling face, she stood up and addressed the visitors. 'Good evening, travellers, and welcome to our community. My name is Myra, and I am the Matriarch of this fortress; these ladies here are my deputies and they help keep the fort a working progress.'

  'Good evening to you, ma'am, ladies, and thank you for inviting us in to your home. My name is Lyall, I am the King of Durundal, and these are my comrades from different clans across the subject kingdoms.'

  'You are clans?' said one of the deputies.

  'Yes, we are all clan members—the Clan of the Mountain Lion, Marshland Tribe, the Giant's Claw, and the Hill Fort Tribe.' He gestured to each member as he relayed their clan home.

  Nodding heads and impressed smiles acknowledged the introductions.

  'So why do you call yourself a king?' another deputy asked.

  'Because I was brought up in Castle Dru by the King and Queen of Durundal until General Domitrius Corbulo massacred them in an unprovoked assault. My parents and the rest of my people were slaughtered. The castle was razed to the ground. The queen was my mother. The Clan of the Mountain Lion took me in after I managed to escape. Namir saved my life.

  I later discovered that the leader was my real father and Namir was my brother.' He quavered as he recalled the many times they had stood by each other in the wake of fear. How they had protected each other and risked their own lives to spare the sibling. But this time, his brother was on his own... in the pit of hell... with no one to help him. No one at all...

  A voice startled him back to the present.

  'And you have returned to the castle to take up your birthright?'

  'Yes, that is correct. And to restore it.' Yet at that moment he had a fleeting regret. Because just maybe, Namir would be safe right now if he hadn't have gone.

  He could see Myra nodding her head with her deputies to acknowledge his response. 'I am very pleased to have made your acquaintance and I hope that our two communities will remain as peaceful allies. '

  He bowed and permitted an honorary smile. 'That is my wish, also.'

  'Now tell me, King Lyall, what brings you here?'

  'My
visit is due to some very grave occurrences. I am searching for my brother, Namir, and my search has led me to you.'

  'Yes, my guards told me this,' Myra looked at him earnestly. 'But why would your brother be here?'

  'Ma'am, if I might be given a few minutes to explain.' Lyall waited for the nod of her head to continue. 'My brother was escorted by two soldiers who work for the Emperor in Ataxata some three weeks ago now. His riding companion was found dead with serious head injuries in the river a few days since. His wife came to me to seek his whereabouts, as she, and now we, as his family, are very concerned about him. We have just come from the palace, Namir's last known whereabouts. The Emperor Cornelius told us that Namir was on his way back home the following day, and that he appeared to be well. However, if this is true, then he has not returned and he could be anywhere by now. He is very sick, and he will need help. He might be disorientated and will probably descend on the first place that will give him sanctuary.'

  'I see, though, could you tell me why he was needed at the palace in the first place?' her voice was solemn.

  'The Emperor offered a peace treaty,' Lyall started. 'But I believe it was a ruse to get him away from his clan. I don't believe that any peace treaty existed.'

  'Why would the Emperor want your brother?' asked another deputy .

  'He fears him. Last year, we were prisoners there, held against our will for the killing games ... but we escaped. It was Namir's intended, now his wife, who poisoned the guards and the Emperor Gnaeus. Several months later, the General launched a counter-attack on us; but we, collectively as clans, defeated him.'

  'You killed the Emperor and the General?' exclaimed the Matriarch.

  'Yes, we did.'

  The seven women began talking fervently amongst themselves.

  A pause followed and the Matriarch spoke again. 'Who is this new Emperor?'

  'He is the exiled son of Emperor Gnaeus. He is called Cornelius. With his father dead, he has returned to Ataxata, but we believe him to be just as evil, if not worse, than his father.'