A Wolf in the Dark Read online

  .

  Contents

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  By S.E. Turner

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Main Characters

  Copyright

  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.

  Nancy Stopper.

  Jeremy Boughtwood.

  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 the rulers can rise and fall

  Where the brave hear the monster's call

  Where the people stand stoic and tall

  In the Kingdom of Durundal'

  Lyall is an Old Norse name that means 'Wolf'

  Prologue

  I was a very frightened fourteen-year-old boy back then, too frightened for my own good by all accounts. They would always tell me that there were no such things as monsters— but I didn't believe them. My father desperately wanted me to succeed him as a strong king with absolutely no fear of anything or anyone—a tall order back then. He used to tell me stories and I hated them, because night after night, I had the same recurring nightmare, the same disturbed dream, and even now as I speak, it's as real today as it was then.

  It is pitch black, and my heart is hammering. I can't control my vicious panting. The tunnel closes in and I crouch against the wall. My fingers can feel every crevasse on my shrinking tomb as I slide along the cold, damp, ancient stones. And then I feel it. Something cold reaches for me, and I instinctively recoil. The thing groans and wails as it claws at my flesh. I manage to break free and start to run, but my fettered legs are weak. I am weak. I cannot breathe. I cannot move. The monster closes in. A long, forked tongue licks along the sweat of the walls and I can feel its icy breath on my neck. I scream and sit bolt upright, trembling in my bed.

  Chapter One

  His mother ran in and put a candle on the table. She sat down on his bed and stroked his hair.

  'It's the same dream every night, Mother. The same demon in the dark with its monstrous jaws of hell.' Lyall shivered, reliving every moment.

  'It's a night terror, my love. Nothing will hurt you. There are no such things as monsters. I promise.'

  He clutched her arm and a voice cried panic. 'Will you stay with me?'

  'Of course, I will. Lie down and close your eyes.' She began to sing quietly.

  '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. '

  She hummed softly and brushed a wisp of hair from his brow. When she was sure he was settled, she kissed his cheek and quietly left. The maid was hovering nearby, wearing her familiar pained expression. 'Is he all right, ma'am? I have been ever so anxious.'

  'He is settled now, Dansa.'

  'I'm worried that his nightmares are becoming more frequent.'

  'I appreciate your concerns, but rest assured, I will speak to the king about it this very night.'

  Dansa tilted her head to acknowledge the resolve.

  'You get to bed now, the hour is very late,' continued the queen.

  'If you are sure that is all, ma'am.'

  The queen nodded and went to move away, but with foresight, she turned. 'Oh Dansa.'

  'Yes, ma’am?'

  'Leave the candle alight in his room.'

  'Of course, ma'am.'

  Dansa curtsied and retired to her quarters.

  The queen moved quickly along the corridor, her long skirt skimming over worn wooden floorboards as candles flickered silently in niches in the walls. She shivered and wrapped her shawl tighter. Sprightly feet ran up one flight of winding stone steps and found the king at his desk in the royal apartments. She swallowed hard as she caught her breath. 'Canagan, please, may I talk with you?'

  He lifted his head and smiled at the sound of her voice. 'Of course, Artemisia, what is it?' His own was soft and kind, and he set aside a mountain of official papers.

  She bit her lip as she found her composure and looked for the compassion in his eyes. 'Canagan, please, you must stop telling Lyall about the General and the door and the tunnel and the Seal and what will happen if they get us and...'

  'Whoa, whoa, stop there. What's brought this on?' He pushed himself back into his chair as his hands navigated the armrests.

  'It's Lyall, my lord. He is only just fourteen years old and you are filling his head with such terrible stories.'

  His brow furrowed and his fingertips met as he leaned forward on the table. 'Artemisia, yes he is fourteen years old and is learning to become a king one day. If you treat him like a child, how will he become a man?' He muttered under his breath: 'you and that maid of his,' and let out an exasperated sigh.

  The queen found her strong voice. 'All this nonsense about the General and the door, it's too much for him and it’s scaring him. This is the fourth night in a row that I have had to go to him.'

  'You should leave him be,' retorted the king indignantly. 'The boy has to face his fears.'

  'But he won't settle, Canagan. He just won't settle.'

  The king stood up and his tone changed. 'Artemisia, it is my duty to tell Lyall about the despicable depths people go to out there. Not everyone is sweet and kind like you. If only they were. Unfortunately, we live in a kingdom of demons and devils who will do anything to get power.' He reached for the pendant beneath his shirt. ' This Seal here, the one round my neck that sits over my heart, this is the holy grail of royalty. It is the key to the Kingdom of Durundal. It is a valuable item, one that many have tried to take and failed. But there is someone out there right now, watching, waiting and ready to vent his evil. This is the monster of all monsters. There is no compassion in his eyes or feeling in his body. He is the General who works for th
e Emperor of Ataxata, and I have been informed that he is close. He is that close that I can smell him. I can hear his breath in the wind and my skin crawls. I have to protect my family at all costs. Our son has to be told. He has to know everything, but more importantly, he has to know the escape route that will take him to safety.'

  'But we don't even know if people are still there. We don't know that the tunnel is safe,' persisted the queen, rooted to her spot.

  'You will have to trust me,' boomed the king as he paced around the room, his hands clenched behind his back. 'I would not send my son from one danger into another. I have been through the tunnel and I have seen them. They are there.'

  'You've spoken to them?'

  'No, but I saw enough.'

  Her face dropped.

  'And yes, the tunnel is dark, I cannot deny that, and yes, he will be petrified, I have no doubt. But in the event of an attack, he will be safer in there than he will be in here. You both will.'

  He found his soft voice again and unclenched his fingers as he took both her hands and kissed them fondly. ' You are a good mother, Artemisia. he knows how much you love him, I love him also, but he must grow and become a man now. Yes, he is only fourteen years old, but if that's old enough to shoot arrows, then that's old enough to know about the horrors of this kingdom.'

  'But—' she tried to intercept.

  'No more buts.'

  'But he's too young.' She stopped him.

  'You are never too young to recognise those whom would harm you.'

  Artemisia looked down in defeat. 'You are right, Canagan. I'm sorry.'

  He lifted her face and brushed an errant curl from her cheek. 'No, it is I that am sorry. Sorry that I cannot give you a safer place to live and bring up our son.'

  'The gods are punishing us for what we did all those years ago, aren't they?'

  The king startled. 'Of course, they are not. We did nothing wrong, Artemisia. Nothing at all.'

  'But I did, Canagan... I know I did.'

  He cupped his hand on her cheek to comfort her and breathed out on a sigh. 'Shhh. No more, my queen, it is late, and you are tired.'

  They gave the silence time to breathe, and without another word, he led her to the largest window in the room. They could just see the tip of the snow-topped mountain bathed in the glorious moonlight. The Giant's Claw had held on to their secrets for a decade and five now, and it was where her nights of a thousand tears were entombed forever.

  The weather seemed to change within minutes of them standing there, and a rough wind brought clouds the colour of granite with sheets of driving rain, while the pallor of the November sky closed in upon the mountains, cloaking them in mist and obscuring the moon. And for all the tightly secure windows, there must have been a small crack in one of the panes, because every now and again, little tears of rain ran down the inside and collected in pools on the edge of the sill.

  Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled. Artemisia shivered. The king moistened his dry mouth. The lone wolf was mourning, and it hung like a shroud over the weeping castle.

  Chapter Two

  General Domitrius Corbulo reined his panting horse to a halt and turned in his saddle to greet his captains and the thousand mounted soldiers following him into battle. As they approached the eaves of the forest, the trees gave way and the land stretched out before them—a patchwork of fields, orchards, and herb gardens; where the castle rose out of the ground and stood proud over the royal surroundings. This was the final attack after many years of searching, and Corbulo knew the doctrine would yield the greatest prize as he handed it to his Emperor.

  The black mare began to strain at the bit and whinny. Wet ears swivelled back and forth, nostrils flared and sent out clouds of condensation as she pawed the sodden ground with a frustrated hoof. 'Steady, girl, steady. All in good time.' He didn't take his eyes off his goal, and gently stroked her smooth velvet neck with a gloved hand. 'We will be home for the winter, my beauty. Our work is nearly done.' A murderous grin swept across the wicked face as he anticipated the rewards of his brutal endeavours.

  The Ataxatan army continued to clatter in rows behind him, restless in their stealth as they reached the summit. Horses bounced their heads and shook their tack. Soldiers adjusted their weapons: spears, sickles, axes—all ready to chop and swing—sang the sound of the blade while beating hearts pulsating with anticipation rumbled through the ranks. The dense mass of moving bodies were now ready, and the General raised his sword to signal the attack. A flaming arrow was curled into the night sky, and a shivering hiss of a thousand blades leaving their scabbards responded to his cue. Hell was unleashed. Arrows curved down from the hillside, sending fire balls of oil-soaked liniment into the fragile timbers. The impact was brutal as an orange ball of flame exploded across the courtyard scattering the splintered frames of wooden enclosures.

  The castle was ablaze and continued to burn as more arrows were fired. Like streams of lava from an erupting volcano, the cavalry descended. Arrows flew their course and plunged into the chaos of shrieking people and stricken animals. Servants and maids running for cover were trampled by the invading hoards. Children were crying in their mother's arms. Many were trying to control the fire, and others screamed in agony as they became engulfed in flames. Brave men, loyal to the crown, ran in to thwart the siege, but unforgiving swords hacked into the defenders of the realm. Silver blades and gold tipped daggers sliced through muscle, and a thousand hooves crushed the life out of prostrate wounded bodies.

  Amongst the slaughter, a waft of black smoke rose in the air and weaved its way through the empty corridors, suffocating everything in its path.

  The king and queen had already witnessed the first attack and were preparing for battle. 'Get our boy, Artemisia. You must go to the tunnel and I will follow when I can.'

  The queen froze as her breath spurted panic. 'Canagan, I can't leave you. I just can't do it.'

  The king met her frantic gaze; the words didn't come easily as he knew what lay ahead. 'I will join you when I can, but you and our son will surely die if you both stay here.'

  She shook her head in despair as her husband tried to reassure her. 'You must take him, Artemisia. It is the safest option, I promise you. I don't think our forces can cope with this. You must go to the tunnel and that is an order.'

  Time was running out, the sound of death was fast approaching, and now there were no options. She grabbed the lantern on the desk and chased her thumping heart to the west wing. The terrifying sounds of slaughter compelled her to run faster. People were spinning in all directions, dodging fire tipped arrows and falling debris. She saw Dansa, frantic and confused, and shouted out over the chaos.

  Dansa didn't notice her. She couldn't hear her. Within seconds, a falling beam had ended her life. The queen gasped with shock, but there was nothing she could do. She was competing with the devil and got to her son's room first.

  'Lyall, Lyall. Wake up. Quickly.'

  The sleeping boy awoke to her trembling voice and rubbed his gritty eyes.

  'You remember the secret tunnel that your father has shown you?'

  He groaned and sat up slowly as the nauseating sound of death filtered into his room.

  'We have to go there now.' She felt wretched asking him to do the very thing that he feared the most.

  He thought he was dreaming again and whispered a frail response in disbelief. 'Why?'

  What kind of mother am I to ask such a thing , she thought as she helped him up. 'We are in danger. The castle is under siege and we must go to the tunnel. I will be with you all the way, I promise. I will be right behind you. It's safe in there. Nothing will hurt you. But we must make haste.' The instructions became more hurried.

  'Mother, I can’t. I would rather die here than go in there.' His voice was thick with fear. The smoke had reached them, and the castle was falling in around them.

  'My sweet son, I would do anything to spare you this, but you have to be brave. We all have to be so very brave.'


  The flashing lights of fire and the constant stream of wailing terrified him. If he wanted to live, then he had to go through the tunnel with his mother, and he knew that he didn't really want to die. The queen wrapped her shawl round the young prince and guided him out of his room.

  The air was claustrophobic with smoke, and shallow pools of debris littered the way like old abandoned toys. Artemisia picked her way through them as carefully as she could, avoiding the six-foot-long nails that protruded like hideous flags of honour and blocks of black basalt so large that they must have taken a hundred men to hoist them into place. The main tower collapsed behind them, and as they ran through the broken masonry, she yelled out all the instructions that Canagan had just revealed—information that would reassure her son and put his mind at ease—but the gnarled fingers of death grabbed her words before they reached Lyall's ears.

  Outside, there still raged screams and crying, running of footsteps, the whinny of petrified horses, and the frantic barking of terrified dogs. They were now at the concealed entrance. The door was heavy and already had piles of asphalt blocking its access. She couldn't open it on her own. Despite everything in his head telling him not to, Lyall dropped to his knees and pawed at the fallen masonry with his bare hands.

  As it edged open, her stricken voice ushered him in. 'Go ahead of me. I will be right behind you. Remember everything I have told you: keep going to the end, don't turn back, run as fast as you can.'

  But a figure had entered the room and loomed over him like a grim reaper against the black smoke. The figure grabbed Lyall, pulled his head back with one hand, and held a knife to his throat with the other. A scream stuck in Artemisia's mouth. She had seconds to do something before the blade penetrated her son's neck. Lyall had his trembling hands on the man's arms, his eyes frantic, voice disabled, body writhing like an eel to get free. He kicked back at his attacker with his bare feet, but the soldier laughed and tightened his grip.