A Leopard in the Mist

by S E Turner

A gasp went up and worried faces hung in front of him.

  'I have travelled to the Giant's Claw and the Hill Fort Tribe. I have been to a huge new fortress built by the Smilodon people. I have searched in caves, grottos, fields, and barns. But still I cannot find him.'

  'What are we going to do?' came an urgent request from the back.

  Lyall held up his hand in an attempt to continue. 'I believe Namir is in danger. I believe he is being held somewhere against his will at the palace. I believe the Emperor was lying when he said he wanted a peace treaty signed.'

  'Why would he lie?' called out another voice.

  'Because he is just as evil as his father, and probably the father before that. While people such as this exist in the Kingdom of Durundal, then you are all in danger as well.'

  'What's the answer then, Lyall?' asked a worried mother. 'Everyone is up the castle now, we have little to defend ourselves.'

  'That is my concern,' he said sternly.

  'Lyall, what are you proposing?' asked Ronu, almost knowing what the answer would be.

  Lyall looked at the worried faces, the people who had lived a lifetime here, the ones who rejected his offer once before. But would they now change their minds?

  'I want to take you all back to the castle with me. After what has happened, Namir will support this decision. It is the only answer for the safety of our people. Those of you who came to the wedding will know how strong the castle is now. It is on a vast scale already. But I am going to make it even more substantial to accommodate a growing community.'

  Everyone was looking open-mouthed at his revelation.

  'You will have your dwellings around the outside of the castle, but within a protective wall. You can live as you do now, but you will be living under the protection of a citadel and a force that will safeguard you and your families.'

  He paused, waiting for a heckler. There were none.

  'You can grow your own crops and rear your own animals. Nothing much will change, apart from your surroundings. But I cannot leave anyone here to perish at the hands of a madman again.'

  'We have lost good men,' called out Clebe from the back. 'Too many have died now. Alun was the most recent, and we all praying for Namir's safe return. We are living in dangerous times, and sometimes we have to go out of our comfort zone for the sake of safety and progress.' He looked at his wife who had wanted to go with Arneb and the others in the first place. Ellise was pleading with her eyes. He gave her the answer that she wanted. 'I say we go. '

  She looked up at him in astonishment and threw her arms around him.

  'Can I go and pack?' her voice was urgent.

  He nodded in agreement.

  Enelle looked at Ronu. She was also desperate to leave.

  'I say that Lyall is right,' he said in full support. 'We are not safe here anymore. I shall go and prepare the horses.'

  'And I shall also go and pack,' she trilled.

  'Is everyone with me?' Lyall called out with strength in his heart.

  A cheer went up and he knew he had the clan on his side. Looking back to the party who had stood by him these past few weeks, he nodded and smiled. 'Please, just take what you need. Provisions will be there for you. You will only need a few items, I can assure you.'

  The clan was a hive of activity. The shepherd gathered his small flock and the goat herder collected his animals. Chickens were put in baskets. Children took hold of their dogs.

  Lyall went to stand by the stones. Tall, impressive, magnanimous in their very presence. The home of the gods, the sepulchre of the spirits. He felt a breeze lift him and he felt surrounded by strength, love, and hope. He closed his eyes. 'Help me make the right decisions.'

  Ronu and Clebe joined him to pay their last respects to the place that was once their home.

  'Things are changing too quickly, Lyall,' Ronu said gravely .

  'I know, and I am truly sorry to have to do this. I really am.'

  'While there is life, there is hope, so maybe we can return one day.'

  Lyall looked at him, then to Ronu, 'What do you think, Ronu?'

  'I agree, a home is always a home, people come and go, and the land is forever changing; but it is still home. Maybe it will be again one day.'

  The breeze quickened. It curled round his ear as if pleading for a reprieve, one last chance before being set alight and its very existence forgotten and damned to the pits of the earth for eternity.

  Ronu continued. 'But I think we should secure the cave entrance. We can camouflage it to make it invisible to the outside world. It would only be us that knows about it.'

  Lyall looked to Clebe who was nodding his head in agreement. 'All right, we seal the cave.'

  Skyrah came out when she heard the rumble of the horses, and the last of the clan had come through the tunnel. Arneb was settling them in to their temporary accommodation. A stable boy came out to take the destriers from him.

  'You have heard, then?' Lyall threw Skyrah a stricken glance as she approached him.

  'I have. Hali and Hass told me.' She shook her head with worry.' What are we to do, Lyall? I know he is still out there somewhere. '

  'I agree. I know he is still alive. The Emperor said that Namir was free to go.' His face looked stern.

  'What is it, Lyall?'

  'I don't trust that Emperor. There was something in his eyes. That's why I have moved everyone here, in case he descends on the clans like his father before him.'

  'Do you think Namir is still there, then?' she asked with uncertainty.

  'My gut says he is, but I do not know for sure. I looked everywhere I could, but that Emperor is devious and cunning with a wicked streak and an unpredictable nature.' He paused to reflect what that would mean for Namir and then thought out loud. 'With the bad weather just around the corner, there is nothing more I can do right now… except pray for a miracle.'

  Chapter Thirty

  The inclement weather had brought change, and the grand summer foliage had broken down to mere embers of bony limbs, strewn like corpses on the pathways. Dispatched leaves spread out like fallen heroes on the sodden ground. Now, all that was left of those long, hot, sunny days was a fragile glimpse which paled easily into a distant memory.

  Namir had always held on to his pride and dignity, especially in front of those who tried to strip him of both, but mostly for himself. If the guards opened the door when he was sobbing, he would wipe away his tears and look them straight in the eye. When they slopped his food onto the floor and told him to eat it like an animal, he would scrape it back into the bowl and eat it properly. He had told himself that if he could just hold on to those two things, then he would be all right, he could cope. But asleep, when he dreamed of things beyond the walls and woke with the memory of Skyrah and his clan, that's when he came close to the brink, and every day without them sent him further into despair.

  Lyall had been and gone, so any hope of rescue had diminished with him. And now the Emperor thought he had been lying about everything, so that line of release was now an empty dream as well. Each day he received a bowl of rice and a mug of water and the usual request for truthful answers. But like his father before him, he couldn't divulge his knowledge about his brother and his army. He just could not implicate Lyall. The Emperor would kill them both anyway, then he would massacre the clan. 'Oh, no! The clan were in danger, so much danger now. Skyrah and their unborn child.'

  The thought terrified him. Hopefully, Lyall read the Emperor's face. Hopefully he saw the malevolence when he looked in those demon eyes. Lyall would move them all—Namir knew that. Lyall was still half clan.

  But Namir knew his fate was going to be worse than his father's. He was actually going to die in solitary confinement while the mother of his child gave birth alone. At least Lyall and Arneb would look after them, he thought. His child would never want for anything. But while he knew his family would be safe, the thought tore him apart.

  'It's history repeating itself, isn't it? She's going to end up at the
castle for the rest of her life and my child will never know me.' He shouted through the slits. He bellowed and screamed. But no one heard his cries.

  Most nights he had the same recurring nightmare where a raven tried to carry him away. The talons ripped through his face and gripped on to his cheek bones. Even in his dream, he could feel the excruciating pain, and the tears felt as warm as blood. He tried to remove its claws with his hands, but the bird lifted him even higher, and as the drops of blood oozed down his face, he woke himself up in a hot sweat.

  'I'm going to die in here, I'm really going to die in here. The raven is a sign.' He was beside himself with confusion and he tried to calm himself with deep breathing. But he was too scared to sleep now. Each time his eyes closed with exhaustion, he forced himself awake again. He was too afraid of what he might see in his dreams.

  For six weeks, she had been confined to her room, but gradually, Gya had started to find her feet again. First, she took brief walks around her room; then as she had got stronger, she ventured out into the palace corridors and weaved her way around the sparkling indoor maze. She sat on the veranda for a few minutes every day and then disappeared into the warmth again. But this day, at the end of November, was the first time she really felt back to her usual self. She felt good, she felt alive, and she was much stronger. She got dressed and decided to go for a stroll outside. This afternoon, the hallway was warm and bright with candlelight. Even the floor seemed tepid beneath her feet. She was thankful of her woollen garments, though, and braced herself for the chill outside.

  The doors to the pavilion were guarded by a pair of hunched soldiers, leaning lazily on their swords. One was tall and skinny, the other short and plump, but dressed exactly the same, they looked quite comical. As she crept through the doors and tiptoed past them, they immediately straightened up and held their swords high, hilts against their breastplates.

  'Good to see you looking so well, Mistress Gya,' said the short one, nodding to her graciously.

  'Thank you, it feels good to feel more human again.'

  'Mind how you go, Mistress Gya. Don't spend too long out there. The weather is about to turn at any moment.' The tall one sniffed at the air as he announced his prediction.

  'I won't.' She pulled her cloak tighter round her shoulders.

  'Would you like us to escort you, mistress, before we take our tea break?' the tall one continued.

  'No, I will be fine. You go and warm yourselves.' She smiled to herself contentedly. She had heard Cornelius complaining about the slovenly guards and their constant tea breaks. 'I won't be long out here, anyway.'

  'Thank you, mistress.'

  The guards sheathed their swords, opened the doors, and headed for the kitchens at the other end of the building.

  In the distance was the tower, hidden from view, and to all but a few, completely desolate and empty. Inside though, a man was on the verge of giving up. After three weeks, his face was healing. The bruises on his ribs were now a mottled shade of green and yellow. But his body was pale and thin, and he was as weak as a day-old lamb. Every night he had engraved a mark on the wall as he looked up to the moon. Fifty-two nights he had missed sleeping with Skyrah. Fifty-two days he hadn't told her that he loved her. He had now broken the promise that he had made on their wedding day.

  The morning had brought daylight and he was relieved that the dark had been swallowed up at last. Sounds of creaking hinges and grinding metal was another welcome relief, for it proved that he was still alive and gave him a small olive branch of hope with a voice attached to it. He called the guard over.

  'Please, you have to help me. I am very sick. I need the yarrow flower. Please, can you bring it to me.'

  The guard laughed smugly. 'This is all you've got today, my lad. No yarrow flower here.'

  A bowl of rice and mug of water was put on the floor, and then the guard lowered his face closer to Namir's. 'Have you got any more to tell the Emperor?'

  'I don't know any more.'

  'Well, that's just too bad. Maybe you will remember something by tomorrow.'

  The guard looked at the frail figure before him, and for a split second, Namir thought he saw a glint of pity. But the guard quickly turned, and with a clatter of bolts against grating metal he was gone. Namir was on his own again. He could still hear the guard laughing all the way down the steps to the lower floors. He looked at the deck of cards that Cornelius had given him. He shuffled them and laid them out. One by one he looked at each card in detail. The faces of kings and queens looked up at him, the pictures of hearts pulled at his own, and the black images scared him. The numbers made no sense at all. He tried to work out what they meant, but by the afternoon, he had tired of them. He had no use for anything the Emperor gave him, so instead, he went to the empty window to view the outside that was so torturously out of reach.

  But this time, an inquisitive raven was perched on the sill, looking in at his prison. Her head was jerking and twitching as she faced the man, and her feathers ruffled as she tried to keep warm. Namir smiled at the bird.

  'What brings you here today, little friend?'

  The raven cocked her head and blinked.

  'I have nothing for you,' said Namir dismally. 'You can see for yourself. It is far colder and more miserable in here than it is out there.' He showed her his meagre surroundings. 'You have far more than me.'

  The raven looked at the cards in his hand.

  'Oh these, you think this is food, do you? I'm sorry, it's not. I don't have any food either.' His face was solemn. 'These are all I have. But look, you can have them, and then you can see for yourself.' He looked at the interested bird, and between the cold weathered rods of iron, he slowly pushed the cards out. One by one, she took them in her beak and sent them spiralling to the ground. They both watched every one fall, and when there were no more, she cocked her head, ruffled her feathers again, and as her seraph wings took shape, she flew off into the distance.

  Namir found himself quite emotional and sad to see her go. 'Goodbye, little bird. Stay safe and warm. I wish I could go with you.'

  He watched her until she was just a speck on the horizon, and that's when he finally understood what it all meant, for each one of the fifty-two cards represented each day he had been imprisoned in the tower. The dream about the raven carrying him away was a sign. It all made sense now. He knew that he would die that day. There were no more cards. There was no food or medicine. There were no more days to be spent in the tower, and no more terrifying dark nights alone. He went back to his bed to die and had no idea that a saviour was so very close.

  Down below, Gya was taking her walk. She had seen the falling cards and made her way over to their resting place. With ardent eyes and dextrous fingers, she carefully picked them out from the talons of bracken that clung on to them. Then looking upwards for a sign, she saw the crown of the building disappear into the low hanging clouds. 'What is going on?' she asked herself and walked round to find the entrance of the tower. She looked around, but not a soul was there. It was deathly quiet, but the door was ajar, and she slowly pushed it open.

  The steps were uneven and Gya brushed her fingertips along the wall to keep her balance. A faint draught that smelt of urine made her retch. Mildew and decay was rank in the already stagnant air. The walls were soft and powdery, and in the dim interior, her hands recoiled from something slimy. As she climbed further, a rod of light gleamed on to a patch of crumbling wall, revealing the creeping black stonewort and clinging damp moss. At the top, and from whence the beam of light had come, she saw a door reinforced with iron strips and barred with iron bolts. She held her ear close to it to seek out clues, but there were none. She carefully slid open the bolts and gradually opened the door.

  Her eyes fell on him, and she instantly knew who it was. She fell at his side when she saw him. His dark hair was grey with dirt and lack of sunlight and fell in twisted hanks around his jaw. He had grown a beard which was equally tangled and filthy. His trousers were rotting in t
he damp, and his exposed chest was hollow, the bones protruding through pallid skin. His knuckles and fingernails were red, raw, and bleeding by pummelling the walls. His lips were split, and he bore evidence of a beating on his face and body.

  'No, no, what have they done to you?'

  Namir opened his eyes wearily. 'Am I dead?'

  'No, you are not dead. I am here to help you,' She kissed his cold hands.

  'How did you find me?' His voice was weaker than hers had been two months ago.

  Gya showed him the cards.

  He smiled weakly and remembered the raven.

  'What happened to you?' She was desperate to know .

  'I have been here for fifty-two days. I feared I was going to die in here.'

  'Why are you here, though?' her expression was one of astonishment and pity.

  'The Emperor… he sent soldiers… to sign a peace treaty. But he wanted to ask me questions. I told him everything I knew.–He thought I was hiding something … he has beaten me, … starved me, … and left me to die.'

  She stood up. 'I will go and get help.'

  But Namir's response was panic driven. 'No! No! You can't! Don't tell him… please. He will kill us both… He's insane… Please… just take me now.'

  'Namir, I have medicine back in my room. I must get it for you. I have only just recovered from a sickness myself otherwise this would never have happened to you.'

  He reached for her arm to stop her. Gya threw back her cape and showed him her Smilodon tattoo. 'We are the same, brother, and I know what you and your people did for the safety of our clans.'

  But Namir had sunk back on the bed before she could finish. Gya took off her cape and put it round him. She then flew out of the door, charged down the steps, through the palace grounds, and stormed into the Emperor's private rooms. The Emperor was sitting at his desk, dressed in his regal attire, signing official documents. He looked up at the intrusion.

  'What have you done?'

  He put his pen down and sat back in his chair. 'Excuse me, you can't just come bursting in here and start shouting at me like that. '