A Leopard in the Mist

by S E Turner

  Chay could be seen wiping away a tear. 'I will always love you and take care of you, Skyrah. Twice you have saved me from certain death, and many times you have given me the reason to live. My heart has always been yours, my love, and now my body belongs to you, too. On this day, I take you, Skyrah, as my wife. I will love you for an eternity and I will honour you with my life. I will walk with you and guide you, and as we tread our paths and overcome life's challenges, I will always protect you. I am your guiding light.' He bowed his head and took the time to reflect.

  After an appropriate pause, Meric invited the bride: 'And, Skyrah, if you could respond.'

  She had practised this a thousand times, but in front of so many people, it wasn't so easy. She steadied her nerves. Meric closed his eyes and breathed deeply. She watched him and mirrored him, and as she inhaled the magic, she took a moment to relax.

  'My dearest Namir, I have always looked up to you and loved you. I have always felt that I was the other half of you; and now, on our wedding day, in front of our guests and the sacred stones, I feel complete. You make me feel safe in a hostile world, you make me feel loved in the family we call Clan. Today, I honour you. Tonight, I will lie beside you, and in the morning, I will wake up with you. I am proud to be your wife. I will bear you many children, and every day I will tell you how much I love you and tell you how happy you make me. I, too, will love you for the rest of my life on earth and then beyond this mortal world. Namir, I will honour you with my life and my word. I will serve you as I walk every path alongside you. I am your guiding light.' She summoned her totems and gave thanks to them for this special day.

  'Thank you, Skyrah and Namir,' said Meric humbly. 'Those beautiful words will resonate with your people and have been declared in front of them. Now, it is time for your totems to become as one.' He took Leopardsbane from the altar and held it up high to the gods. 'With this sword and with your blessings, I seek to join these two people through their blood, so that their totems will become as one. This will strengthen their bond, unite their bloodline, and children born unto them will inherit the strength of both guides.'

  The sword was wiped on his robes and he took Namir's hand first. Turning it palm-side up, he made a quick incision along the pad of Namir’s left thumb. Then he took Skyrah's hand and made the same incision. 'Now, press your thumbs together and let the blood flow freely round your souls.'

  Namir and Skyrah stood joined together, under the watchful gaze of the high priest and the congregation witnessing the marriage.

  Meric put the sword back on the altar and spoke softly. 'Let nothing part these two souls. Let no one come between them. Let the enemy weaken in their presence. When danger is imminent, the other will know. When sadness is abound, the other will feel. Their totems have become as one, their souls are now a single entity. This is the word of the gods.' He held up his arms to the sky and waited.

  After a few minutes of silence, Meric spoke again. 'Please, who has the rings?'

  'I do,' said Lyall, choking back the tears.

  He carefully took the obsidian stones and placed them on the sword. He then retrieved the rings and gave them to Meric, who continued with the service.

  'These rings are a symbol of your love. There is no beginning or end. Love is everlasting and bound in these solid circles for ever. Namir, will you please place this ring on Skyrah's finger. '

  The captive audience held their breath as Namir held it to his heart and fulfilled his part of the ritual. 'And Skyrah, could you place this ring on Namir's finger.'

  She kissed the symbol and placed it on his finger. Meric placed Skyrah's hands inside Namir's. 'And now please declare the covenant of marriage.' He held their hands together as they proclaimed the vow as one.

  'Today we pledge our love.

  We swear by the kingdoms and all that surrounds us.

  We swear by The Leopard and The Hare that protect us.

  We swear by the gods and the spirits who look down on us.

  We swear by all those who are present.

  This is our word.'

  Meric concluded the ritual. 'In the presence of the gods and spirits and animal totems, and with these people here present, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Go and enjoy the day with your friends, enjoy the occasion with your loved ones, and enjoy your lives as a married couple.'

  After Meric's final words, the newlyweds turned to walk up the aisle to their new life together. Namir took Skyrah's hand in his own.

  'Skyrah, before we can share our wedding banquet with our guests, I have been practising something that I would like us to do together for our friends.'

  He nodded to Bagwa who started to beat rhythmically on the drum. Norg tuned in after a few minutes, and Namir adopted his opening stance. Skyrah knew instantly what to do and affectionately followed his lead with a smile—she just wondered how Namir knew the dance. She held his hand lightly in her own and her body tingled with excitement. She poised her body on her toes and nodding in time to the drumbeat, they both began to move. First, it was very slow as they dipped and turned, face in, face out, step in and step out. Turn around once, dip again and turn. Face in and face out, step in and step out. The constant drumbeat keeping them in time. The congregation began to clap in time to the rhythm, others clicked their fingers or tapped a foot.

  Lyall grabbed Arneb and invited her to copy him. Norg gave his pipes to a comrade and led his wife Tali into the dance, another guest took the drum from Bagwa then he guided his wife around the floor. They all became part of the sequence. Even the children of the bridal procession copied them as they performed outside of the stage. The novices kept to the simpler choreography around the perimeter. Namir and Skyrah moved to the middle and stepped up the pace. The spring in their feet, the grace of their posture, the strength in their control was mesmerising as the dynamics of the routine suddenly burst into a vibrant frenzy of intricate moves and complicated steps.

  The emotion of the dance was absorbing when Namir scooped Skyrah up and held her there. A curved back supported a long thrown back neck, and as he raised her up higher, she reached out with her fingertips. The drumming stopped. The wooden pipes stopped. The people were silent. The supporting cast froze. Not a sound could be heard as he gently put her back down on her toes and let her spin around him. Their index fingers touched all the time as if he were controlling the action. Everyone's eyes were on Skyrah as she spiralled round and around. Then, with just a hair's breath separating them, the pipes whispered again, and the drum beat like the ebb and flow of a wave. Skyrah slowed, took Namir's face in her hands, and held his gaze as the music stopped. Their beating hearts and panting breath filled the void. The crowd went wild. A new tradition had been born.

  Lyall and Arneb were still dancing as they moved away from the crowd.

  'It feels so good to dance with a woman at last,' he said as he led her around for the umpteenth time. 'I have danced with Namir for so long now, I feared I was turning into a girl.'

  Arneb laughed. 'There is no fear of that, Lyall.'

  'I was only joking, of course. But really, this is such good fun.'

  'You must have been practising for ages. You are a really good dancer,' she praised.

  'Do you really think so? I think I have some good moves, you know,' he laughed. 'Not as good as Namir, though. He is seriously good. '

  'He has done so well. you would never have thought he faced death only a few months ago.'

  'I know, I really thought we had lost him a few times back there.'

  'Power of thought and prayer you know, that's what pulled him through.'

  'Yes, I agree with you Arneb, but also the potions that Meric gave him. I think they went a long way to get him up and running.'

  'How so?'

  'They are very powerful herbs. I had to get them from Meric and prepare them daily for Namir. He was getting them three times a day. Now it is just the once, but Skyrah thinks he will need them for the rest of his life.'

  'So Skyrah wi
ll have to do it for him now?'

  'She will, but Skyrah is somewhat of an expert when it comes to powerful plants and saving lives.'

  Arneb laughed. 'Yes, the hare is a good protector.' She looked at her own tattoo with pride.

  'So, will you continue to live in the blacksmiths cottage or will you double up with someone?' asked Lyall thoughtfully.

  'I'll probably stay there. It will be lonely at times, but it's home. What about you?'

  They had still been dancing, albeit slowly, and just about managing a few side steps whilst holding hands. But Lyall stopped when faced with such a question.

  'Shall we sit down a while,' he said. 'I'm getting a bit puffed out now.'

  'Of course,' she agreed .

  He took her hand and led her even further away out of ear shot. He found a patch of lush green grass. The blades silvered in the sunlight, and the blooms of the buttercups and daisies moved about joyfully as if they had taken over the dance. Today the world was a joyous place, filled with the dawn of a beautiful spring day with its fresh new buds and rich azure skies. Neat little clouds puffed by quietly. Only a light sprinkling from them would be required in the next few days. New stems rose from the ripened earth, and honey bees threaded their way through a scatter of blooms.

  'Here, this looks a nice place.' He held her hand while she lowered herself to the ground. When they were settled, and he was sure that no one could hear them, he spoke again. 'What I am about to tell you is just between us. You must promise me that you won't tell anyone.'

  'I won't,' she assured him.

  He took a deep breath and took her hands. 'Arneb, I will be leaving soon.'

  Her face dropped and looked sad. 'Just when we are getting to know each other.'

  'I know, it's not good timing, but I feel a bit lost now, and I have to do something about it.'

  'But why? You have so much to offer here, and you are still Namir's brother.'

  'Dear Arneb, I share your thoughts. I really do. It's not an easy decision, believe me.'

  'Then stay,' she found the words tumbling out of her mouth.

  'I can't, Arneb. Really I can't. '

  'Please.' She couldn't believe what she was saying. Had she gone mad with love? She tried desperately to turn it around. 'I think Skyrah might already have an inkling.'

  Lyall looked shocked and retracted his hands. 'How? Why? What did she say?'

  She started to fidget with the dancing daisies, fully aware that Lyall was willing the information out of her. 'She remembered something you said,' she fumbled. 'That when Namir was leader of the clan, you would return to the castle to take up your position there.'

  'That was ages ago I said that. I remember the conversation, and it's true. I felt that when Namir was leader here, I would take up my position in Durundal.' He sat forward and pulled his knees up.

  Arneb found herself stammering. 'She said that you have always wanted to return. That it's in your blood to become king and restore Castle Dru to its former glory.'

  'Does Namir know?'

  'No, I'm sure he doesn't. Like you, Skyrah swore me to secrecy.'

  'Goodness, she has kept that quiet. She hasn't given anything away,' he paused, reflecting on the revelation. 'How has she kept that to herself and carried on as if nothing is amiss, preparing the wedding and keeping up her spirits?'

  'The same way you have Lyall. You both love Namir and don't want to hurt him.'

  A voice behind them snapped them out of their conversation.

  'Come on, you two. The guests are asking for the groom's man and maid of honour. We need you at the feasting table.'

  'Just taking a five minute break, brother,' shouted back Lyall. He grabbed Arneb's hand as she stood up and went to join the newlyweds.

  'What you two talking about then?' asked Namir, putting an arm round his brother. 'Anything I need to know about?'

  'Nah, we were just chatting.'

  Lyall winked at Arneb who retracted a coy gaze, but the look didn't go unnoticed by Skyrah. She knew, and right at this moment, Namir was the only one who didn't.

  Chapter Ten

  On the other side of the world, some ten thousand miles away, a lone man sat in a small tavern, at a candlelit table, surrounded by darkness and drunken strangers. Golden streaks of tangled limp hair reached his shoulders while a heavy woollen cloak hung almost to the ground, covering a torn grey shirt and tired worn breeches. A paralytic lout on the street had lost his shoes to him, plus a handful of loose change. Under the growth of a few days’ stubble, a handsome face was etched, though some would argue it didn't exist at all. The saturated straw didn't bother him as he supped on his ale, and he barely noticed the pungent aroma of body odour and stale beer. Outside was a maze of twisting alleyways and hidden corners. Best to keep away from those places, people would tell him, but he wasn't scared of those places. nothing scared him anymore.

  He caught the passing serving girl by the arm.'Gimme another flagon of ale! '

  'Are you sure, sir? I think you have had enough for one night.'

  'I'll be the judge of that, you useless wench. Just do as I ask.'

  She pulled her arm free and slammed another tankard on his table. He tutted and buried his face in the goblet. When she reached the bartender, she jutted out her chin in the vagrant's direction. The huge man instantly stopped towel-drying the tavern mugs and made his way over to the table, but an outstretched arm blocked his path.

  'No need for that, Shorty. I will take care of him.'

  'He can't keep coming in here, Beauchamp. He's upsetting my girls, and good staff are hard to come by in these parts, as well you know.'

  'It's all right, I've got this. Give this to your girl... for her trouble.' Beauchamp reached in his pocket, took out a sovereign and gave it to Shorty. The two men nodded by way of an agreement. Beauchamp pulled up a stool next to the lone man, and the bartender went back behind the bar.

  'Ah, here you are, Beauchamp,' started the young man. 'And where have you been hiding this evening?'

  'I haven't been hiding at all,' answered Beauchamp.

  'So, what you been up to then?' the young man enquired.

  'This and that,' came the short response.

  'Boring stuff as usual, then,' the vagrant disappeared into his beer.

  'On the contrary, I think you will be very interested in what I have been up to. '

  'Really, you really think so? I'm not much interested in anything anyone has been up to these days.' The vagrant took a huge gulp of beer and wiped his dribbling mouth with the back of his hand.

  'I think we need to get you sobered up first, young man,' suggested Beauchamp.

  'I think not. I am quite happy where I am, thank you very much,' retorted the vagrant indignantly.

  'If you are sure, Cornelius, then take a look at this.'

  From his sleeve, Gye de Beauchamp took out a scroll. Looking over both shoulders and lifting his chin high in front of him, he made sure that no one was looking as he unravelled it.

  'What have you got here, Beauchamp?'

  'Read it for yourself.'

  Gye de Beauchamp put an empty container on one corner, and the now half empty one on another corner, and held the bottom corners with his fingers.

  'Go on, read it.'

  Cornelius sighed and couldn't really be bothered. He took the flagon and knocked back three gulps. The parchment tried to spring back into its roll, but Beauchamp put the flagon back.

  'Cornelius, read it slowly and digest it.'

  Cornelius rolled his eyes and sighed again. 'Then will you leave me alone?'

  When he had Beauchamp's assurance, he began to read the document.

  'This is a proclamation ordered by His Lordship General Domitrius Corbulo. Governor of the province of Ataxata. Supreme Commander of the Colonies. Lord Protector of the Ataxatan Empire. Soldier of the Realm and Master of the Ataxatan Army.

  Upon this day, the 10th of June, after faithfully serving our country for thirty years, the Emperor
Gnaeus III of Ataxata was pronounced deceased.

  Unless a legitimate claim to the throne can be found, the title will go to Lord Domitrius Corbulo. This has been bequeathed by The Emperor himself and can be duly seen in his Will, written and signed while he was of sound mind and body.'

  Cornelius scanned the proclamation over and over again, flipping the document over for any hidden unread detail. He was now acutely interested.

  'Where did you get this, Beauchamp?'

  'Down at the docks, my dear friend. It fell out of a pile of books that a sea farer was bringing in.'

  'What month is it now?' Cornelius needed to be sure of dates.

  'It is the end of May,' confirmed Beauchamp.

  'And when did my father become Emperor?'

  'This year would be his thirty-first anniversary, from the dates we have discussed in the past.'

  'My father died eleven months ago then?' said Cornelius in a thin strained voice.

  'That would be correct,' confirmed Beauchamp again.

  'I remember Corbulo very well,' sneered Cornelius behind clenched teeth. 'Sinister, horrible man. I believe it was him who got me exiled.'

  Beauchamp agreed with a long sigh and a puckered chin. 'Unfortunately, I believe you are correct in your assumptions in this case as well.'

  'So, he has been bequeathed the title. All worked out for him in the end then, didn't it?' He seethed and disappeared into his flagon again.

  'Not necessarily, Cornelius.'

  The young man tipped back the dregs, slammed the tankard on the table and cocked his head. 'Tell me what you know.'

  'I perchance happened to ask the same sea farer about this proclamation, and I made enquiries about the aforementioned General.'

  'And?' he gestured with an opened hand and raised eyebrows.

  'It appears he is dead as well.'

  Cornelius' brows met in the middle as his expression turned into a question. 'How?'

  'The Emperor was killed in an uprising, and the General was killed in a battle when he tried to avenge the uprising.'