by S E Turner
The long hours passed in silence. He watched the slim fingers of dusk and dawn peek at him as shadows between the cadaverous rails. Eventide and day seemed the same now: long, lonely, empty, and devoid of any contact with anything. Sometimes he wished a rat or a mouse would find its way up to him—just for company, something to talk to—but even species such as these kept in the gullies and the gutters below.
Every night, he looked through the slats over to the dormitory—a huge, lifeless tombstone. He wept each time he saw it. But somehow the quiet of the garden and the shapes of the trees and flowerbeds edged in silver from the moon brought him peace. For he knew that Skyrah could see the same moon. But while she enjoyed her freedom, his walls were closing in that tiny bit more each day.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was now some two weeks since Namir had been taken to sign the treaty, and a group of children had been fishing by the stream early that morning when they noticed a floating log. But this log wore a dark cloak that was tangled in the roots of a fallen tree, so it couldn't continue on its journey downstream. It bobbed up and down in the water as the current tried to free it, but the roots of the tree wouldn't release its grip. Believing it to be a monster, the children had rushed to get help. To begin with, their mothers thought they were messing about and they got severely chastised for inventing such a story. But then it became obvious that they weren't making it up and that they were deadly serious about what they had seen.
The parents and the children followed Clebe and Ronu to the water's edge and watched them as they waded out to the monster. The men knew what it was straight away and told the parents to take the children home. Because what they saw was not a log covered in a cloak—it was a man with his head caved in so severe that half his skull was missing. They turned the bloodless, swollen corpse over. One eye had been devoured and a thin white snake slithered out of the empty eye socket and disappeared into the reeds. The two men jumped, looked at each other and carried on with their task. Brushing away the algae, they removed the mud and instantly recoiled in horror.
'It's Alun,' cried out Clebe, swallowing the rise of vomit from the back of his throat.
Ronu had already spewed up at the side of the bank. They looked at each other in disbelief.
'How did he end up like this? Do you think the soldiers did this to him?' Clebe was in total shock.
'What other explanation is there?' groaned Ronu, wiping his mouth clean with hands wet from the river.
'But why? They were going to sign a peace treaty. This suggests evidence of foul play.' Clebe was still trying to make sense of the heinous crime.
'Well if Alun is dead, what about...' Ronu couldn't even say his name.
'It doesn't bear thinking about,' Clebe looked at his friend. 'Come, we have to get him out. Then we will take him to the standing stones so his soul can be received by the spirits. '
'We should clean him up a bit first,' said Ronu mournfully. 'We can't take him through the camp like this.'
They disentangled the cloak that was caught up in the branches and dragged him onto dry land. Ronu took off his shirt and began to carefully wipe away the mud and grime from the corpse. 'No man should die like this,' he said fretting. 'I only hope his spirit guides were with him in his final moments.'
'Amen to that,' hailed Clebe.
In the distance, a group of people were making their way to the site. Meric, Skyrah and Alun's widow Idia, had been alerted by the children and the mothers... and they were nearly upon them.
'Make haste, Clebe. We can't let anyone see the body like this.'
'Poor Idia and poor Skyrah—she will be wracked with worry for Namir, now.'
They cleaned him up as best they could in the little time they had. Meric held back Idia until the two men confirmed it was safe to approach. With most of his body covered, Idia fell at his side and wept uncontrollably. Skyrah stood tall, with the weight of a mountain on her shoulders, and took in deep breaths.
Meric put an arm round her. 'Praise be to his totem who brought him to us. He must have given his life to save Namir.'
'So what has happened to Namir?' Skyrah bravely asked, controlling her breathing and caressing her unborn child.
'He would be washed up as well if he had met the same end,' Ronu offered consolation. 'He has to be safe.'
'How do you know that, Ronu? How can you be sure?'
'Dearest Skyrah,' said Clebe, his eyes wet with tears. 'If I thought for one minute that Namir was in the water as well, I would be wading through these reeds until I found him. But the wash of the river doesn't differentiate, everything follows the same path. Namir would be visible to us. Really, he would.' He choked back the sobs and willed the strength back into Skyrah's heart.
'But Alun was caught in the branches. How do we know that Namir wasn't carried further downstream?'
His response was difficult to convey, probably because he didn't know for sure himself. 'We have to believe. We can't think like that.'
She looked at Idia, a widow with young children. She would need their support now. 'We need to get Alun's body to the stones,' she said earnestly. 'Meric, we need to perform the death ritual straight away. His soul needs to be released. Idia needs peace.'
'We shall have the ceremony tonight Skyrah,' said Meric. 'Under the stars and the moon. The spirits will be around us then.'
She nodded in agreement and walked away from the mourners. Back in her hut, she sat on her bed and gripped the bed sheets. Her baby kicked inside the safety of its womb, oblivious of the turmoil its mother was in. She stroked her swollen belly and wept.
As Clebe and Ronu carried the body of Alun through the camp, many heads craned to see the deathly remains of one of their dearest friends. Clebe had draped his coat over the face—it would be too shocking for the people of the clan to witness. The motion swelled and the crowds began to hum softly as he was taken past. The children, the old folk, and Alun's dearest friends all followed mournfully in a procession, one by one, through the camp, eventually halting at the subdued standing stones. Clebe and Ronu laid out the body on the ceremonial slab and the crowd dispersed to bring in a huge collection of wood for the pyre later that evening. It was all done quietly, and whilst they expressed their sadness for this loss, their thoughts were also with Skyrah, who right at this moment, didn't know whether her husband was alive or dead. She stayed in her hut most of the day: resting, sleeping, humming, singing her song to her baby and hoped the words reached Namir, wherever he was.
'The wild wind blows through valleys my love,
The wild wind blows through the trees,
The wild wind blows o'er the rivers my love,
But will n'er get closer to thee.
The wild rain storms through the valleys my love,
The wild rain storms through the trees,
The wild rain storms o'er the rivers my love,
But none will get closer to thee.'
The clan moved about silently that day. Some couldn't do much at all while others busied themselves as they found that was the only way of coping. Idia stayed with her husband—these last few moments were precious to her. She spoke with his totem, giving thanks that he had been brought back to her, albeit in death, for the unknown would have been a far worse fate .
By eventide, Meric had arrived with Skyrah and her mother, all looked ashen. Skyrah stood in front of Ronu and Clebe and their wives. Meric, the great medicine man and healer, giver of life and proclaimer of death, embraced Alun's widow with affection. He stood at the raised pyre.
'This is a most unexpected turn of events,' he began. 'We don't expect to lose one of our own in such circumstances, and we can only pray that his totem and spirit guide were with him when he passed away, to give him comfort and peace when his life was so brutally ended.'
The congregation could hear Idia sobbing in the deathly quiet.
'Our people will pray for Alun's widow and his children and hope they will gain strength from his memory in the coming days
.'
The people around the grieving widow held her and comforted her and took the children to one side.
'We stand here now waiting for the moon and stars to take our dear friend. We know they have shone down on him for many nights, but he needs to look up to them and view the new cycle of his journey and see where he will be taken. The spirits have given him back his sight for this one last crossing, and we know that he is safe and will soon be with his ancestors.'
Meric began to sprinkle sacred essences over the body and chant as he did so.
'Take these offerings from our mortal kingdom into the spirit kingdom, dear friend, and may you find glory in the after life. '
He prepared the pyre by pouring drops of fuel onto the wood and invited Idia to light it. A fanfare of deep-toned horns rang out, the clan hummed, and a soft drumbeat echoed round the stones. As the fire took hold, the mourners threw back their heads and began the eerie and mournful howling of their custom. The notes rose up through the octaves and sent strength and love into the chasms of the ancestral home above them. Now the flames roared up to even greater heights, spewing its power and illuminating the autumn settlement with even more golds and reds and burning amber. The people howled longer and wailed louder, with ever increasing tones that matched the intensity and noise of the inferno.
Skyrah's thoughts turned to Namir as the incredible heat source slowly unmade the body of the man who had been sent to protect her husband. She tried not to dwell on it, but thoughts could not stop her from thinking that Namir, too, must be washed up on the side of a bank somewhere. Even though she tried to tell herself otherwise and believe what Ronu and Clebe had told her, she found it difficult to convince herself in such dreadful circumstances. Why should Alun have died and not Namir, she thought to herself? What possible reason could there be? Her mind was spinning out of control as her imagination wrote out a story that she tried so desperately to change. She started to well up and the fumes brought tears to her eyes. But the flumes of pouring smoke created a vision for her, and through a haze of tears and ashes and twists and turns of flames, she saw Namir behind bars. He was as grey as the clouds above and as thin as the corpse that had just been sent on its way. The sadness in his eyes matched the sorrow of a whole clan.
Suddenly, a bitter wind scathed through the ranks of people, causing them to draw their coats tighter about themselves. The wind changed the direction of the smoke. She followed it with her eyes. She looked harder and deeper. She felt her unborn child kick the side of her belly, and she felt the strength of the unseen forces. This was a sign—Namir wasn't dead. He was alive, and there was only one person in the kingdoms who could help her. The wind blew strong, with its incredible power in a northerly direction, and settled itself round the Kingdom of Durundal, the home of the new king. The home of Lyall—Namir's brother.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Skyrah wasted no time once the congregation of mourners had dispersed. 'Meric, Mother, I have to go to Lyall.' Her voice was frantic, her tone shaky.
'Why?' asked her mother, taking her daughter's trembling hands.
'Because Lyall is the only one who can help us now—he has better negotiating skills, his weapons are finer, and his armour is more protective. The youngest, strongest men are there with him at the castle.'
Chay looked round the camp. Indeed, it was primarily the older generation that had stayed behind with the clan. Ronu and Clebe were amongst the younger adults, and they were married with young children now.
'We don't know for sure that Namir is in any danger, though, Skyrah,' Chay pleaded.
'Mother, he has been gone for two weeks now. A peace treaty was offered, and now Alun has been discovered washed up with his head caved in, and you are telling me that Namir is safe?'
Chay turned her head away with the horror of it.
'I think Skyrah needs Lyall's help, my love,' said Meric. 'We all need Lyall's help now.'
'Do you think Namir is in danger, then, my dear?' Chay's worried expression sought clarification.
'It doesn't bode well, does it? Skyrah is right. If a peace treaty was at stake here, why was Alun found battered to death in the water? It doesn't make any sense, does it?'
'Well, if Skyrah is going to the castle through the tunnel, then I am going with her,' proclaimed Chay. 'She is with child—my grandchild—and I need to go with her.'
'And I will come also. I can't let two women go through there alone,' advised Meric. 'We will leave Ronu and Clebe in charge of the camp.'
'It is agreed, then. We will pack our provisions and leave at dawn,' hailed Skyrah with raised spirits.
The following morning, Clebe and Ronu were briefed on their duties, and should Namir return to the camp, whatever time of the day or night, Skyrah was to be informed straight away. It was practically a month to the day that most of the camp members had journeyed through the tunnel to attend Lyall's nuptials with Arneb, and now, here were the three of them following the torches that paved their way for another reconciliation .
'Skyrah!' Lyall wrapped his arms around her. 'It's so good to see you. Look at you, you are blooming.' He stepped back to admire her bump and Arneb came over to embrace her friend.
'My dearest, it's only been a month and I have missed you so much.' She kissed both cheeks with affection.
Lyall had acknowledged Meric and Chay and could be seen waiting for Namir to appear. He peered round the corner and his brow furrowed. 'No Namir today?'
'Namir isn't here, Lyall,' Skyrah's voice quivered under the strain.
'What? Is he all right? Is he ill?'
She couldn't control the tears now, and all the anguish and held-back emotion came flooding out in uncontrollable waves. Chay got a chair for her. Meric put her small bindle on the floor. Lyall and Arneb stood facing her anxiously.
'What is it, dear sister? Tell us,' urged Arneb.
'Namir has been taken!' She couldn't say anymore and motioned for Meric to tell them.
'I will take her upstairs to her bedroom. This is far too much to bear.' Arneb helped Skyrah to her feet. 'Come, you must rest now. Lyall will sort this out for you. I promise.'
The women took Skyrah upstairs to her room and Meric informed Lyall of the recent events.
'He's been gone for over two weeks now, Lyall,' said Meric shaking his head gravely. 'We hadn't really been too concerned until now. We thought that maybe he had formed good relations with the new Emperor and was working towards an amicable alliance.'
Lyall threw a concerned look from his memories of old.
'I remember Cornelius being such a sweet boy,' continued Meric. 'He was a gentle-natured lad with a passion for music. I never had any reason to think that Namir would be in any danger.'
'What did they want with him?' asked Lyall, remembering that anyone with that kind of power posed a potential risk.
'The Emperor had offered a peace treaty. Skyrah didn't want him to go. She was quite adamant, you know.'
Lyall breathed a half smile. He recalled her forthright ways from long ago.
'But Namir was keen to install peaceful relations, and so he went with them willingly,' said Meric shaking his head. 'I wish I had tried to stop him.'
But they both knew that if Skyrah hadn't managed to make him see sense, then no one else could have.
'He went alone?' asked Lyall raising his brows and his tone.
'No, Alun went with him,' Meric looked to the ground and took some deep breaths.
'What's wrong?'
'We found Alun yesterday morning in the river. His head was completely smashed in. He had been strangled as well.' Meric held a fist up to his mouth and stifled his emotions.
Lyall bit down on his lower lip and breathed heavily through flared nostrils. 'And Namir?'
Meric shook his head solemnly. 'I don't know, Lyall, I just don't know.'
'We have no time to waste,' Lyall shot himself into action. 'I will assemble a search party straight away. My pigeons will be sent with messages to our nearest
clans. There are four people from there that I need to assist me right now.'
Meric put his hand on Lyall's shoulder. 'Thank you, dear boy, thank you.'
In the hours before Lyall's search party left for Ataxata, the castle was a hive of activity. The people assisting him on this mission had been summoned, the weapons were cleaned and the provisions collected. The blacksmith made sure the horses were shod while the armourer ensured the group were properly protected. The carpenter carved six-foot-long bows from a strong flexible yew and fitted them with strings of gut and waxed hemp. The fletcher made arrows from ash, birch, and mahogany and attached fine feathers to the ends of the shafts. Their swords were lathed and polished before being concealed in secure scabbards. The horses wore defensive headgear and protective socks round their forelegs.
By midday, Lyall sat with his elite archers: Hali, Silva and Hass. He had donned his boots of supple black leather, soft lambswool breeches of light brown, a dark brown doublet, and brown cloak with the Durundal coat of arms embroidered on the breast. He wore a waist belt of black leather, where his scabbard with Wolfsbane was anchored, and slid a concealed dirk into the calf of his boot. From the Marshland Tribe, the magnificent Torré was still able to wield a four-foot-long sword which hung at his side, and Lace had accompanied him with her favourite bow strapped across her shoulders. Siri from the Giant's Claw and Dainn from the Hill Fort Tribe had also responded to the messages.
By the time the group were ready to leave, they only had half-a-day of sunlight left, but with a strong wind behind them and the chance of a good journey without setbacks, they would be part way across the plains of Ataxata by nightfall.
Lyall leaned down to kiss Arneb goodbye. 'Look after Skyrah for me.' He smiled a thin smile.
'I will,' assured Arneb. 'She is in good hands here.'
He brushed her cheek and nodded.
Meric and Chay stood by the entrance of the gates to wave them off. Lyall looked up to Skyrah's room and saw her standing against the window. She raised her hand in a trembling wave. He nodded back in recognition. The castle inhabitants had joined the throngs to bid farewell, and within minutes, the party had galloped out of sight.