A Wolf in the Dark

by S E Turner

  Admiring eyes hovered over the kind face and her chin dropped once more to spare her rising blush.

  Back in the village, the boys were preparing to leave.

  'Are you sure you want to come with us, Lyall? We all understand if you don't.'

  'You won't know where to go if I don't come.'

  'We can find it, brother. You could draw us a map. '

  'No, I have to come. It was my home for fourteen years. It would be wrong of me not to.'

  'Well, only if you are sure, but we do need that armour and fast.'

  'I know. It will save so many lives. Such a shame my castle family couldn't get to it in time.'

  'But we can, brother, and we will execute their revenge.'

  'That's what will keep me going and drive me on through the cave.'

  'Good man. Come on, let's go.'

  Lyall followed the rest of the lads through the camp, taking solace that there were six of them this time. They crossed the open space between the village and the cave in jovial spirits. But by the time they reached the entrance and saw evidence of animal fur and fish skeletons littering the opening, that laughter disappeared and it suddenly became very serious.

  Lyall's nostrils flared as he went back in the tunnel for the first time in nearly four years. Namir wrinkled his against the smell of stagnant water and damp walls.

  'I can't believe you went through here, and I am astonished that our mother did as well. It's like your worst nightmare.'

  'I know,' replied Lyall, his voice tight.

  'I suppose mother had already been through with father, so she knew what to expect,' surmised Namir. 'Maybe she had a torch like we have. But you, Lyall, I just cannot imagine how scared you must have been.'

  Lyall was already feeling the adrenaline running through his veins. 'The cave and tunnel seem so much smaller now. But I guess I have grown a lot more and I can see where I am going this time.' He shook away the memory.

  But the further they went in, the more cold, damp and suffocating it became. The sinister experience of light depravation was overwhelming.

  'I thought there were all sorts of creatures around me. I was almost making myself believe there were devils lurking in the dark.'

  'Thank goodness we have these grease lit lamps, otherwise we would all be terrified.'

  'Just use one lamp at a time, though. Otherwise we will use up all the fuel.'

  They kept walking and talking, reliving tales of bravery, hope and courage, tackling every subject they knew to stop their agitated minds creating distorted visions of terror.

  The softened floor suddenly became rough stone and the walls folded in on them. The earth shivered beneath Lyall's feet and he picked up the pace. 'Hurry up,' he quailed. 'I am feeling anxious now.' He felt a hot tingling sensation in his spine and that beaded sweat of fear collect at the back of his neck. The helpless feelings he experienced as a child rose up without combat and settled with a knot at the back of his throat. And now with his companions around him, swirling their lanterns in the darkness, his kingdom became a tunnel of wandering wraiths.

  Bending low beneath the timid light, the boys trod the path that Lyall had carved all those years ago. The muffled sound of leather soles and rasping breaths echoed in the chill of the passage. Hurried feet broke into a slow trot, eager to get out of the ghostly dark.

  'There will be a door up here soon,' he called out, trying to stifle his panic.

  It would seem that a barrage of chests and bales blocked the door when they arrived. Ronu and Clebe pushed their backs into it, alternating with Namir and Lyall laying down and pushing with their feet. Bagwa and Norg pummelled with their fists. And ever so gradually, the solid fused door began to edge open, and the group was able to crawl through.

  At once, a squadron of nesting birds took flight noisily. They had got used to not being disturbed for years now. With pumping hearts and shots of adrenaline pumping round their flurried bodies, the boys recovered enough to brush away the dust-ridden cobwebs and look around at the devastation.

  A gentle touch caressed Namir's face and Lyall felt a kiss on his forehead. They were instantly at ease.

  'This is where our mother died isn't it?' Namir asked.

  Lyall nodded.

  Namir reached up to the caress and held it there. Lyall could still feel the chill of the kiss. The boys stood dazed and disbelieving at what was before them. The windows and doors were charred beyond recognition—years of torrential rain and harsh weather had bruised it beyond repair. The ghostly echoes of people moved through the cold stone walls, their voices hushed in respect for the living. Namir put an arm round his brother; he couldn't find the words to say, instead they all paid a silent vigil .

  For Lyall, the castle was a stranger now, a hushed place full of grey dust and empty shadows. There was no feeling, no warmth, no echo of laughter and love. The General had torn the very heart from it the day he murdered his parents.

  He broke the deadly silence and focused on the task. 'Come, we have work to do.'

  Namir agreed. 'Yes, let's finish what we came here for quickly.'

  'You will find everything you need in the basement: all the chainmail coifs and hauberks, plus the leggings and gauntlets, and all the weapons that we need. You will also find some wooden carts to transport it all.'

  'Are you not coming with us, brother?'

  'No, Namir, I'm going to stay here for a while and pray. I didn't know what had happened to my family back then, but I do now. I have some grieving to do and pay my respects. There are a lot of friends here who I didn't say goodbye to.'

  'If you are sure, brother. I don't like leaving you alone.'

  'I am not alone. I can feel their presence around me. And for you, too, Namir. This is as close to our mother as you will get. Take time on your own to imagine what it was like in its day.'

  Namir looked humbled and choked back a hard swallow. 'I won't be long, I promise. I just hope we can get through safely. The castle is quite unstable.'

  'It will be fine. You have your leopard totem and our mother guiding you.'

  Namir went one way and Lyall went the other. The timber roof had given way and exposed the wrath of unforgiving elements throughout most of the castle. Many rooms were inaccessible now. Corridors and floorboards had gone up in flames, or just deteriorated over time. Wooden stairwells and bannisters lay rotting in their graves. The mortar structure gave some stability to the withered remains, draped like the body of a decomposing crow. The boys followed the stone passageway downwards, clinging on to a range of charred irregular shapes that creaked and groaned, and passing teetering slabs that were about to perish and join the other black ashes on the ground. As per Lyall's instructions, they entered a tunnel that fed into a long chamber, and at the end of the chamber was the armoury room. The boys worked quickly and quietly—it felt almost sacrilege disturbing the tomb of the brave. It was cold and dim, and every so often, a whisper would curl affectionately round a neck or a cheek.

  Lyall was right, the amount of body armour was extraordinary, and they stacked up high with everything they could.

  'We'll take this lot out now,' said Bagwa. 'But I'm not sure these three rickety wooden trolleys will manage the load.'

  'I think I saw some upturned crates outside that we could use,' said Clebe. 'Perhaps we should go and get them.'

  'Good idea. We'll leave these upstairs and then go and get the metal ones,' said Norg.

  Something else had caught Namir's eye. 'Wait a minute,' he said cautiously. 'There's something here. '

  'What is it?' Ronu turned as the others disappeared.

  Namir moved carefully, his soft shoes almost whispered on the stone floor as he approached the structure. 'I don't know yet, shine the torch over here.'

  Ronu projected the flickering light onto Namir. The monster was draped in fine cobwebs, and a mist of dust clung desperately to each thread. The particles made him cough as he sent them flying through the air. The fragile web clung to his finge
rs.

  'That's the size of a small tree,' gasped Ronu with his heart racing.

  'It's a sword,' Namir exclaimed. 'It's massive. Bring the light over will you.'

  The scabbard was of thick dark leather with a pure gold chape and locket at either end. The hilt was pure obsidian stone which morphed into a leopard's head with detailed snarling teeth and chips of emerald set into the eyes. The cross-guard had an inscription along the ridge that he couldn't quite make out. He looked at Ronu as he removed the scabbard. 'It's not as heavy as it looks,' he chimed as the silver blade sang out to him, and revealed a triple fullered sword that looked as if it had never been used. It glimmered in the light as Ronu held the torch closer.

  'Look at the beveled grooves, Ronu. Look how perfectly they have been made. Only an expert in his craft could have made something like this.'

  'There's an inscription on the cross-guard, Namir. Can you read it?'

  'Just about, Ronu... hang on a minute. Bring the torch closer... '

  Namir wiped away the ingrained dust with the corner of his sleeve and blew the inscription clear. He looked closer and squinted. 'I don't believe it...'

  'What does it say, Namir?'

  'You really won't believe this...'

  'What?'

  'It says Laith.'

  Up above them, Lyall walked through the ravaged ruin of the Great Hall and remembered those joyful occasions. He stopped where the royal dais once stood, but nothing remained of it apart from a pile of ashes and some burned out charcoal embers. The empty fireplace looked cold and forlorn, and the disfigured candlesticks on the mantle wept tears of molten wax and had solidified where they fell. Lyall continued round and back upstairs. He prodded the edge of an open door into his mother's chamber. He had always felt so safe there, but this time, he quickly recoiled as he felt the wind pushing against it from the other side. A sentinel of surveillance doves took flight in response, and the noise made him jump. He stepped back and something moved beneath his feet. He looked down and saw the tattered fragments of one of his mother's books. He bent down to pick it up and it fell apart in his hands. 'She's not here anymore,' he cried aloud, and the walls groaned a weary response. Memories flooded through his mind as he held the fragile pages to his heart. The days of jewels, furs, and bright fabrics were a distant past. Feathers, plumage, and crystal crowns—all but a memory. He knelt on the soiled rug outside her room and vowed his revenge. 'It won't be long now, Mother. I promise.'

  In King Canagan's chambers, he saw the remains of an oak table where the king dealt with matters of the realm—a debris of strewn ashen papers were evidence of the sudden attack. Tapestries and portraits hung unrecognisable from their once enviable positions, whilst the threads of rich velvet curtains clung in shreds to blackened charcoaled poles. Everywhere was decomposing. It was nothing but a carcass now where a hideous savage attack had ripped out the heart and soul and left behind a lifeless corpse.

  But in the corner, something was still breathing, unsoiled and alive. Its beating heart summoned him. It was the royal box of coin. It had been left untouched. It was as though the torturous fingers of fire couldn't devour it. Indeed, the General and his hands couldn't move it. Perhaps they hadn't even tried, though. Everyone knew they were after a greater prize.

  A deep-gold chest, inlaid with golden scrollwork and detailed ornamentation, was the only object in the whole castle that hadn't been destroyed. The Durundal coat of arms adorned the heavy lid, while the huge lock and key were still intact. He didn't resist the urge to unlock it and peer inside. A treasure trove of silver and gold blurred his eyes, and as he sifted the wealth through his fingers, something caught on them. He lifted it out to see more clearly, and at once an aura of rainbows fired through the air and sent spectrums of light around the dead and decaying room. It was the chain of the Queen's own blue diamond pendant. He gasped as the memories resurfaced, and he let the pendant fall back into its resting place. He shut the lid in an instant, afraid to let out any more of the precious cargo. Too much had escaped already. He turned the lock and patted the lid. He sat on the box with his head in his hands: thinking, contemplating, analysing his future.

  Eventually he stood up to leave but turned to speak to his parents’ memory. 'Mother, Father: I will use this one day to restore the castle to its former glory. My wife will wear the Queen's Blue Diamond Pendant on our wedding day. Happiness and gaiety will abound once more. Riches and opulence will herald the Lords of Durundal again. But until that day, my heart is yours. I will avenge your death, and I will take back the Seal of Kings.'

  The day was still young when Ronu and Namir found a tear-drenched Lyall, his back pressed up against the torched door and knees held tight against his chest.

  'At least I’m the other side now,' he croaked.

  'Dear brother,' Namir wreathed his arms around his shoulders.

  Lyall sniffed back his runny nose and wiped it clean with his sleeve. 'Everything all right?' he patted his wet eyes with the back of his hands.

  'Yes, brother, everything is fine. But you are not going to believe this. Look what we found.' And Namir presented him with the magnificent sword. 'Can you read the inscription?'

  In the daylight, it was easier to read, and Lyall choked back his tears and braced a smile. 'My goodness, I never knew. Father, I mean Canagan, never told me. This is just amazing. Thank the gods you found it. Laith will be overcome with joy to be reunited.'

  'I know. Come on, Lyall. Thanks to you, we have what we need.'

  'Where are the others?' he asked.

  'They're just outside on the grounds, gathering a couple of the metal carts; we saw some upturned ones through an opening. The timber ones are too fragile and won't carry the weight,' said Ronu humbly.

  'All right, that's good. Let's go now. I've seen enough.'

  Outside, the years of savage weather and unhealed battle wounds had beaten the sumptuous castle into retreat. Trailing branches that once stood tall and erect limped lifelessly in an attempt to hang on to something more solid. Stone walls bore the scars of fire damage and resembled a beast that was all but dead. A weathered portcullis hung like a fragile web of aching limbs, and the magnificent drawbridge that was once the stronghold was now permanently disfigured where it bore ragged edges and was transparent in places. It was a dismal end to a once fine landmark.

  'Bastards,' seethed Norg. 'What makes a man turn into a vile monster that could do this?'

  'I don't know, Norg, but this place is giving me the creeps.'

  'Yes, it's a sad ruin now. Come on, let's get these carts back on their wheels and be on our way.'

  The boys had what they needed, and carefully weaved their way through the mounded clumps of tufted grass. Their path then guided them through the castle remains and into the room that would lead them back into the cave. They put most of the armoury into the three huge metal trolleys, which eased the load on the three wooden ones, and pushed their precious cargo into the tunnel entrance.

  'Are you all right, Lyall?' asked Bagwa kindly when he joined them.

  'I will be,' he said. 'It just makes me more determined to watch that low life die and see his army suffer.'

  'That goes for all of us, Lyall. We all want to be the one that puts the dagger through the General's heart and carve out the demise of the Ataxatan Empire.'

  'I am just glad that the weapons we use will have come from the Castle, and that the General's soldiers will die at the hands of Canagan's blades. But look what Namir found,' he added proudly. 'It's Laith's sword.'

  'What, really? Let's see the beauty.'

  'Where did you find that, Namir?' asked Norg.

  'It was in the armoury, propped up against a wall.'

  'That must have a name,' said Bagwa inspecting the glistening weapon. 'All swords that magnificent have a name. I wonder what it is?'

  'Lucky the General didn't see it.'

  'He was after something else though, Clebe. He didn't even make it that far,' bristled Lyall.

/>   'I know,' Clebe's heart sank with the recollection, and a sympathetic arm touched the boy's shoulder. 'Come on, let's get you out of here.'

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  'This is remarkable,' Laith trembled with emotion. 'I never even dreamed I would see her again.' He held up the sword to the light and a spectrum of colour bounced off her body as he kissed the triple-fullered blade.

  'We all wondered if it has a name?' asked Lyall.

  'She, not 'it', Lyall. Can't you tell by her beautiful pommel?' Laith corrected him as he admired the beauty.

  'She, then. Does she have a name?'

  'She certainly does, son.' He looked at her proudly. 'You all have had the pleasure to meet Leopardsbane.'

  The boys smiled.

  'Of course, it is,' said Namir. 'It couldn't be anything else, could it? And that's why I have the leopard as my totem.'

  Laith was waiting for the correction.

  'I mean she. Sorry father.'

  'Of course, this beautiful creature is a she , just like the leopard on your arm is a female. Have you ever seen how a female protects the ones she loves? And I'm not just talking about in the animal kingdom that a female will fight to the death or put her own life in danger to save her young. Look how Skyrah risked everything to save all of you boys. And Lyall, your own mother, she gave her life so that you would survive.'

  All three of them swallowed the emotion at the accolade.

  Laith continued his tribute. 'Females nurture and protect; they are fiercely strong willed and should not be undervalued. Everyone thinks it is the man at the helm, that the male is the strength as he wields his way through life. But do not underestimate the power of a woman, boys. Never underestimate her power.'

  The boys were humbled and remembered Clebe's emotional tribute to Skyrah back in Ataxata. They reflected on the bravery, and act of love that their mother had shown in the face of extreme danger. They felt proud to have such women in their lives, and gave the silence time to catch up, until a faint whisper reached out.

  'Who gave her to you?'

  'My father gave her to me,' the quiver in his voice struggled. 'He had her specially made by a master craftsman.' He stopped and looked up. 'But Canagan has one also... was that one not there?'