by S E Turner
.
Contents
Acknowledgments
By S.E. Turner
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Main Characters
Copyright S. E. Turner 2018
The right of S. E. Turner to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Acknowledgments
Jamie Flack
Daisy Jane Turner
Jeremy Boughtwood
Nancy Stopper
My friends and family for their enthusiasm and encouragement.
My three daughters who continue to inspire me.
By S.E. Turner
The Kingdom of Durundal Series
Book One: A Hare in the Wilderness
Book Two: A Wolf in the Dark
Book Three: A Leopard in the Mist
Book Four: A Stag in the Shadows
Book Five: A Moth in the Flames
www.kingdomofdurundal.com
'Where you fight for what's good and just
Where you do what you can and must
Where you put all your honour and trust
In the Kingdom of Durundal'
'Namir is a medieval name that means 'Leopard'
Chapter One
Lyall groaned on the floor and shuddered as the General fell dead next to him. He looked up at Skyrah. She had broken the General's heart in two. He ripped the Seal from the perpetrator and clasped it to his chest. They had done it. They had killed the General. He had the Seal and he had Wolfsbane. He had his revenge. But at what cost?
He looked towards his brother, and his own heart ripped in two. He let out a deep wail and clawed at the bloodied soil. Skyrah dropped down with him and they sobbed together in despair. They turned to look at Namir's body. He lay recumbent on the ground: a true hero, a true leader, a soul mate, a brother, and the greatest friend to many. Skyrah pressed herself into Lyall's arms and wept.
As the dust began to settle, the clans made their way towards them, united in numbers with a strength that defied their young years. They were all too weary and grief stricken for jubilation, but in their hearts, they cheered. Lyall brushed Skyrah's blood stained hair from her splattered face and took a moment to look over her shoulder to his fallen twin.
But he saw a movement. He watched as Namir struggled to motion a sign and he saw his brother raise his arm for help. His eyes widened, his lungs took in a slow rise of air and then he exhaled in a gust. 'He's alive, Skyrah! Thank the gods, he's still alive!'
'It cannot be.' Her body trembled in response.
'It's true. Look. Unless my eyes are deceiving me. Tell me, Skyrah. What did just I see?'
Her head turned and looked towards Namir. She felt as though she was drowning in tears, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't see through her weeping eyes, and the putrid mist was overpowering. But when her eyes cleared, she saw him. He looked quite still, laying there on the ground. He was pale. A corpse. She couldn't see any life at all. Lyall must have imagined it, she thought. But then she saw it. He moved his head and he tried to raise his arm again. That's when she screamed. 'Help him! Help him!' She pulled away from Lyall and ran to Namir, calling his name all the way.
She fell at his side and kissed his hand. 'Thank the gods. Praise our totems. Hail the spirits. My love, he lives.'
He groaned in pain.
'Quickly! We have to get him back. My mother and Meric will know what to do.' She was still screaming out her orders to bring him back to life.
His comrades rallied round quickly and tried to lift him, but a gurgle of blood spilled from his mouth every time they moved him.
'Take Meteor!' Lyall shouted out to her. 'We can't move him. They will have to come here.'
'Lyall is right,' agreed Dainn, stemming the flow of blood from his own torn shoulder and being supported by Storm. 'We don't know what damage has been done.'
'We have stretchers ready, the women and children made them. I will bring one back.'
'Skyrah, you had better bring all of the helpers and all of the stretchers. A lot of our men are wounded.' Lyall looked over at Torré who was barely clinging on to life, then at Bagwa who was nursing a shattered leg. More and more casualties were exposed as the brume settled. Though as the moonlight rested on their bloodied armoury, Lyall could see that most of the bodies were the General's legions, and whilst half of them were already dead, the other half would have perished by dawn.
'We need to burn these bodies,' called out Lace. 'They will remain the undead if they are not burned.'
Lyall nodded and breathed deeply, taking charge of the situation. 'Gather everyone you can and clear these grounds. But keep our men separate. They must be blessed before they are burned.'
'Of course, Lyall, but I can assure you our losses are few.'
'That is welcome news,' he sighed.
'What about the General?' she cursed through tight lips.
He really wanted to bury that devil in the deepest pit he could find so that his soul would spend the rest of eternity rotting with all the other devils. But then he thought again… unless this monster was burned to a cinder, he might claw his way out. 'Burn that one first!'
She spurred her horse into a canter and recruited the strongest toughest men she could find for the harrowing job. Lyall deployed another group of men to round up the horses that were skidding on the blanket of blood.
'Ronu, Clebe,' he shouted out. 'These are fine war horses, but they are maddened by the smell of slaughter. They must be taken to safety.'
'We're on it, Lyall.'
Others were collecting the abandoned weapons and stacking them high. Some were finishing off the General's wounded before the night ghouls took them; they were doing the honourable thing, they told each other.
Darkness was descending, and he could hear a rumble in the distance before the heavens opened. He lifted his face to the skies and let the cool water clear his skin; his cries were muffled by the waves of thunder. He didn't even notice the hunched bodies of helpers working tirelessly against the driving rain, tending to the wounded and helping them to safety. He didn't notice Chay and Meric rush Namir away on a stretcher. He didn't see Skyrah beckon him over, trying to get him off the field. The rain was heavy now, he couldn't see anything anymore. He walked blindly through the battlefield—sodden grass squished and squelched beneath his feet .
Lace and her men had done a good job; the bodies had been cleared and stacked, and the pyre was smouldering, despite the flood. The smell of death still lingered, even though the autumn rain had washed most of the blood and fear away.
A wind was swirling now, driving the clouds away, reddening his cheeks and stinging his eyes
. The bright full moon peeped at him through the trailing gaps. He looked up to the skies and watched the moon and stars looking down on him. He found himself conversing with them, spilling his inner most thoughts, sharing his hopes and dreams, and now the whispering wind was telling him what to do.
He could see the light. He saw his path vividly. And he knew, that come the spring, he would return to Castle Dru and take up his rightful place as Lyall, King of Durundal.
Chapter Two
By the time he had got back into the camp, it was a hive of people jostling from one place to another. The horses had been turned out and the stables now housed the wounded men. Lace had been right—their wounded were few and their losses even fewer. The dead had been taken to the standing stones to receive a blessing from Zoraster, whose haunting wails seemed louder in the catacomb of darkness. Lyall went to the hut he shared with his brother and strained to hear what was going on inside, but with so much chaos and confusion around him, he momentarily hovered, not knowing what to do first. Skyrah must have seen his shadow or heard his wavering breath, because she was out in an instant.
'Where have you been?' her tone was anxious behind a tear stained face.
He looked at her blindly, not knowing what to do or say. She was covered in blood. Was it Namir's or the General's, he wondered? He felt his face drain of colour and the vomit rise from the pit of his stomach. But it stopped midway and he was able to answer her question. 'I had to check the field, Skyrah. I had to make sure that no one had been left out there in the dark.'
'I understand.' Her face softened, and she touched his arm. 'But your brother needs you.'
'I know. I am here now.'
He went in and saw him lying there.
Meric was cleaning the wound while Chay ground leaves and birchwood to be administered later. Laith had aged about a hundred years and was rocking in the corner. Lyall went to him first and fell down at his side.
'I'm so sorry, Father. I'm so sorry that I couldn't protect him.'
Laith put an arm around the boy and said nothing. He was trembling too much to speak.
Namir reached out to Lyall, and he moved closer to his brother.
'Hold him,' said the physician. 'I have to apply this now.' Lyall didn't know what this was, but whatever it was made Namir groan in pain.
'Hold him tighter,' urged the physician, applying even more of the thick tar to his stomach.
The hand he held was weak and pale. He held it up to his lips and kissed it. The strong body looked so fragile, and yet his chest was keeping him alive as it rose and fell with each shallow breath. Lyall whispered with angst written across his face. 'Will he live?'
Meric looked up at him for a second. 'If we all pray and the gods warrant it, then he will live. '
Skyrah wept again and took herself outside. Chay followed to comfort her child. Lyall felt the tears rolling down his cheeks, but he didn't make a sound. He sat there for hours, holding his twin's hand, feeling him flinch inside an otherwise lifeless body. Spasms and twitches weaved between the shallow breathing while his eyes rolled beneath transparent lids.
'What is going on inside you, dear brother?' he whispered.
Namir heard nothing. He felt as if he was flying. He was joined by the two eagles he saw that day on the mountain. He felt like one of them—free, unleashed and spreading his ever-expanding wings. They swooped and soared, all three of them together. What a magnificent feeling it was, to feel this empowered with so much freedom. He looked down on himself and saw everyone around him: caring for him and preparing potions that would save him. But still he swooped and soared, not strong enough to become a whole man again.
The nights rolled into days while the days rolled into nights. By the end of autumn, the orchards had been stripped, the food was cured, and the bees were now docile. Skyrah never left Namir's side. She washed him, talked to him, held him, told him how much she loved him, and then Lyall came in and they took it turns to sleep. Meric checked the dressing. Chay brought them food. Zoraster took Laith back to his hut every evening, but by dawn, he was back again, rocking in the corner; praying, chanting, weeping, and looking more fragile by the day.
Elsewhere in the village, the wounded had responded to treatment, and the final few were now venturing back to their own clans before the hard winter set in.
Clebe retrieved their horses and returned from the fields, handing the mounts to their riders. 'They are all fed and watered and will get you home safely.'
'Thank you, my friend,' said Dainn.
'Namir is in our prayers,' Torré said as he climbed into the saddle. 'He is a fighter and very strong. He will make it.'
'Yes, I know he will,' said Clebe. 'He has the finest people taking care of him.'
'Send word when you can,' urged Dainn.
'Of course, we will, but you take it easy as well, you two. You have only just got well yourselves, and a hard winter is but a few nights away.'
Wyn and Hass ran up to them. 'Here is something to keep you going.'
From a basket of food. they handed them a muslin of cheesy bread and a flagon of ale.
'Thank you, boys. This is perfect,' said Dainn. 'And thank everyone for the hospitality,' he praised. 'All of you, drop by to the Hill Fort and let us repay you when Namir is well enough.'
'Of course, we will. It will be good to catch up without hostilities at the forefront of our thoughts.'
'Yes, I look forward to that day.' Dainn nodded to Storm, kicked his mare into a gallop, and chased Torré and Siri back to their respective clans.
Lyall was in time to wave them on their journey and caught sight of Bagwa limping with the aid of a stick. 'How are you today?' he called out.
'Not so bad. Have seen better days. Am dreading the cold weather with this leg of mine.'
'Meric will have something for it,' Lyall assured him as his friend hobbled closer. 'How is Norg?' he continued. 'I saw him being treated for an eye injury.'
'Norg is coming round, now that he is accustomed to the fact that he can only see out of one eye.'
'Poor man,' Lyall mirrored Bagwa's despondent face.
'He sees it as a blessing now. At least he is still alive. One eye is better than no sight at all, and he can still shoot with a bow and arrow.'
'Yes, I agree, Bagwa. we have to count our blessings.'
'I missed the burning of our dead as I was in the infirmary for so long. I wanted to honour them before they went to the afterlife.'
Lyall put an arm round him. 'We were lucky that it was so few men that we lost. It was only one from our clan. The General wasn't prepared for the support that we got.'
'The gods were with us that day. So, who did we lose?'
'It was Jonha, the blacksmith.'
'Oh no! Kal must be distraught. They were the best of friends. '
'I know they were. He is there every day checking on the bereaved family and doing what he can.'
'He left a young daughter and a wife that is gravely ill.' Bagwa shook his head.
'Yes, that would be Arneb,' said Lyall. 'She has grown into a fine young woman and has already taken over his job.'
Bagwa raised his eyes. 'And the mother?'
'I fear for her with the winter upon us, so we must help them as much as possible.'
'Yes, of course,' said Bagwa. 'I will go and honour Jonha and pray for Arneb. My own daughters are lucky that they still have me and my dear lady wife, albeit a bit frayed round the edges now.'
'They are very lucky, Bagwa. As is everyone who has their loved ones around them.'
'Indeed.'
'But go and stand awhile amongst the stones. What's left of the pyre is just about visible, but you can still give your praises and respects.'
'Yes, I will do that. Thank you.'
Lyall was thoughtful as he watched his friend take shaky steps towards the home of the gods.
'Bagwa,' he called out.
'Yes.'
'Say a prayer for Namir as well while you are amongst the
fallen. Summon his leopard totem. Summon all the guides of the spirit world. He needs everything now to help him.'
'Of course, I will.' Bagwa waved and trod his unsteady path to hold a vigil with his fallen comrades .
Lyall returned to his brother's side and silently prayed for him.
He must have dropped off with the rhythmic sounds of Namir's breathing and the warm stillness in the hut, because he awoke with a start. He had lost all track of time, but the sun was going down now. Zoraster would be here for Laith very soon. It was an arduous trek now for the two old men. In their youth they would have sprinted up the mound to their accommodation, but now, coming down was just as hard as going up, even with an extra arm as a guide and an old gnarled stick as support.
Lyall's prime concern was the impending freeze. it would be treacherous to attempt to put a foot outside. Laith didn't want to be moved though and was adamant he would see out his days in the place he called home.
'I don't like change.' He would say defiantly if anyone suggested he moved into a smaller, more accessible dwelling off the slopes. 'I have lived here for nearly twenty years now and this is where I will see out my days.'
No one liked change, and nothing did change as the hours became days and the clouds swept past the rising sun, and the moon took her place at night. And right here, right now, as another day was nearing its end, nothing had changed. Every day, he watched Namir's flickering eyelids, the tremble from within his soul, and the rise and fall of his chest. He looked over to Skyrah and looked back at Laith. Their grim faces hadn't changed either .
Namir was still flying his lazy circles with the eagles. But he was getting stronger now. He saw Skyrah weeping and feared how she would cope without him. He saw his father rocking backwards and forwards. He saw Lyall praying for him. They all needed him. He needed them. He wanted that life on the ground as a man, not circling the clouds as a bird. He felt the warmth returning to his body and his muscles started to fire up. He felt his eyes able to see more clearly, and the wind stopped carrying him away. The two eagles flew to him on seraph wings and pecked at his own, which caused him to fall. He was trying to scream, but nothing came out. He was panicking. He felt like a drowning man and struggled to breathe. His family were rushing up to meet him. He took a huge gulp of air before he landed. He opened his eyes.