by R. J. Grieve
The Turog, unaware of their peril, still gaped at Relisar standing tiny and alone before them, his glowing stone held aloft like a miniature sun. Just as a tall fanged head reared up behind the Turog, Relisar stepped quietly through the wall.
The last thing he heard was a haunted, echoing scream.
Chapter Twenty-six
The Kingdom of Adamant
The sudden blaze of sunshine made Relisar blink and his pupils contracted painfully. By the time his eyes adjusted, he made the discovery that he was standing on the edge of a beautiful, level plain ringed by mountains. The plain was divided as far as the eye could see, into neat fields dotted with farmhouses. In the distance, the grey walls of a large city could be seen. He also discovered something else closer at hand. He was surrounded by armed men, their swords drawn. Their helmets mostly concealed their faces but their intentions were perfectly clear from the way they were holding their weapons. To one side stood the rest of the company, all disarmed, with their hands tied behind their backs. Celedorn’s black brows were drawn down in a thunderous scowl, not improved by the lurid bruise on his cheekbone. The Prince too was sullen, a graze on his chin bearing evidence to the fact that their capture had been bought at a price. They had tumbled through the tear in the curtain, going at full speed, and had landed almost on top of their captors, totally unprepared for their reception, but attempting, nonetheless, to put up what fight they could.
“Is he armed?” their captain asked in a language that closely resembled the old tongue.
A man stepped forward and patted Relisar’s gown. He shook his head.
The Captain eyed them coldly. “Are there any more of you?”
No one replied.
“It would seem not,” he remarked, after the silence had dragged on uncomfortably. “A pretty haul to drag before King Morthren. We will ride to the city immediately.”
He turned towards the horses but was checked by Andarion. “We cannot ride with our hands tied behind us,” the Prince protested.
The Captain’s eyes narrowed. “You may appear on the surface to be human, but so, too, do many things that are not. You also got through our defences - something that I find most disturbing. The King will be able to discover the truth about you. You will not be able to deceive him.” He appeared to come to a decision. “Your hands will be bound in front of you, for I will not run the risk of letting you go free - especially him,” he declared, jerking his head towards Celedorn and rubbing a bruise on his jaw tenderly.
“What is this place?” Relisar asked when they were mounted.
“It is the Kingdom of Adamant.”
“You mean, like the curtain?”
But the Captain refused to be drawn. “I know nothing of such things.”
“Oh....er.....yes, very proper, but how does such a place exist in the middle of the Forsaken Lands?”
“The King will answer your questions if he chooses. In the meantime, ask nothing of me.”
Relisar gave up and looked around him instead.
The others, too, were looking around them with a sense of wonder. The road they were following, shot straight as an arrow in the direction of the city and passed through many miles of well-tended farmland interspersed with neat villages. The pine-clad mountains arose like natural defences behind them, but all that lay within their circle was the epitome of civilisation. The neatly thatched farmhouses stood amidst orchards, vineyards and fields of grain. A network of irrigation ditches supplied water to the fields, ensuring that each crop was rich and abundant. As they passed through the villages, with their quaint shutters and pointed gables, many of the residents came out to stare at them.
“Strangers appear to be a novelty,” remarked Celedorn dryly to Elorin riding beside him.
She noticed that he had been discreetly struggling with his bonds until his wrists were raw.
“There’s no point doing that,” she advised softly. “We have an escort of nearly a hundred armed guards and they have taken away your sword. Best wait to see what happens. After all, the hostility we initially encountered in the Hidden Valley was just a precaution and it may be the same here.” Her attention was caught by an orchard of pear trees. “Have you ever seen such beautiful, well-tilled countryside? Those farmhouses look so comfortable.” She sighed regretfully. “I would have liked to have lived in a house like that someday, with an orchard and a garden for flowers.”
He looked away and did not reply. The contrast between the grim fortress of Ravenshold and the pretty farmhouses was so stark that he recoiled from the comparison. Finally he said: “Your Prince does not live in a farmhouse. Would a palace do instead?”
But she refused to be beguiled and shrugged resignedly. “I’m not likely to get either.”
“Stranger things have happened. At least you have chosen well.” He looked at the straight-backed figure of the Prince riding ahead of them. “Such men as your Prince are rare.”
“I’m glad you and he have become friends. You have more in common than you realise.”
A little demon of mischief danced unexpectedly into his eyes. “Not at all,” he disagreed. “He is not as charming as me.”
Caught by surprise, she gave a little choke of laughter which attracted the attention of one of their guards who ordered them to stop talking.
They had by now drawn near to the city and could see that its outer wall was a nominal affair, not high enough to be truly defensive. Elorin remembered the high, thick walls of Addania, encircled by the river, and knew that those who dwelt in the city felt safe for reasons other than their walls.
They passed beneath a deep, unguarded archway and entered a broad, straight avenue, lined with poplar trees. The buildings were different to the countryside, grander and more ornamental, with many pillared facades and ornate windows. At intervals the road was flanked by huge bronze dragons on plinths, their outspread wings slightly blackened by fire, suggesting that they were torches of some kind. At the end of the broad avenue, another set of walls was encountered. Higher this time, and crenellated, looking somehow much older than the city walls. The gateway through them was like nothing that any of them had ever seen before. It was utterly immense. Its pillars, wide as a house, soared upwards, dwarfing them by their height. Each pillar was carved with a pattern in bold relief of dragons, sea monsters and serpents. It exuded power and ancientness, its very size intended to intimidate all those who passed through it. Before the pillars stood two more of the bronze dragons, this time alight.
However, what lay beyond such primeval power was most unexpected. The day was fading as they followed the Captain under the arch, but the diminishing light did not detract from what met their eyes. A large and beautiful parkland dotted with many stands of regal trees spread out before them, in the midst of which lay a large, impressive building with many delicate towers decorated with ornamental stonework. Lofty, many-paned windows flashed in the setting sun as if the palace were ablaze. The windows opened onto broad, flagged terraces dotted with stone urns from which spilled colourful flowers. Flowering creepers cascaded over the stone walls, covering them in white blooms like fallen stars. The building had several wings and courtyards set with fountains where water spouted from fishes’ mouths into wide basins. The Captain halted in one such courtyard and gestured to them to dismount. Several of their escort came with them, swords drawn. The others disappeared leading their horses.
“This way,” said the Captain curtly, and led them along a cloistered corridor, through an oak doorway richly embellished with patterns of pure gold. The corridor beyond was flagged with tiles of grey and white granite and the cool walls were set with murals of gold and semiprecious stones. A pair of immensely tall double doors loomed up at the end of the corridor and opened silently, as if by magic, when they approached.
“It appears we are expected,” murmured Relisar.
The Captain heard him. “I sent a messenger ahead. The King will see you now. He will decide whether you are all that you seem.”
They entered an airy hall, one wall of which was made up entirely of windows whose crystal panes let in the last of the sun’s sinking rays, lighting up the opposite wall with patterns of honeyed gold. The floor was of black marble, so highly polished that it faithfully mirrored the five dusty companions and their escort. It also reflected a large desk resting on two coiled golden dragons. Seated imperiously at the desk, cloaked in the aura of regality that only power can bestow, was a dark-haired man, richly dressed. He did not immediately look up when they entered, but continued with his writing, his even characters travelling smoothly and unhurriedly across the page.
The guards halted behind them. No one spoke.
Finally with a sigh, the man put down his quill and looked up. He was middle-aged but powerful and vigorous. His strong face bore a neat beard sculpted around his full, rather sensuous lips. His eyes were very dark, almost black, hooded and watchful. He arose from his chair and stood before them, surveying each in turn, silently scrutinising each face with a long intimidating stare.
He turned to the Captain, suddenly releasing them from his gaze. “They are definitely human. You may untie their hands.”
The Captain drew his knife and cut the ropes. The King’s eyes rested for a moment on Celedorn’s chafed wrists but he passed no comment.
“It is rare for us to have strangers in our midst,” he said. “Since the fall of the Old Kingdom we have been isolated from the rest of humanity, surrounded, as we are, on all sides by the domain of the Destroyer. How shall I address those I now welcome to my kingdom?”
Andarion bowed slightly. “I am Crown Prince Andarion of Eskendria. This is Relisar the Keeper of the Book.....”
The King appeared startled and interrupted. “So, Eskendria survived and so it seemed did the Order of the Book.” A long, dark look was directed at Relisar.
The Prince bowed again and continued. “May I present Triana, the daughter of the Lord Protector of Kelendore.”
The King ran his eyes over Triana, a certain warmth in them. “Ah! The Isles of Kelendore, famous for their rubies - yet here is a jewel of much greater beauty.”
Triana blushed and looked away, made uncomfortable more by the look in the King’s eyes than his compliment.
“And these other two,” the King resumed, “I assume must be your servants.”
Celedorn stiffened haughtily. Andarion by this time had a fairly accurate idea of his companion’s character and knew that he was about to deliver the sort of scathing reply that would probably land them all in the darkest dungeon. He leaped into the breach.
“Not at all,” he replied, a little more sharply than he had intended. “Celedorn and Elorin are both my friends whom I value highly.”
To his annoyance a look of deep amusement crossed Celedorn’s features at that pronouncement.
“But they are not of noble birth,” persisted the King.
Andarion, caught off balance, merely looked embarrassed and didn’t know what to reply.
The look of amusement deepened in Celedorn’s eyes and he folded his arms implacably, refusing to come to the Prince’s rescue. It was left to Relisar to retrieve the situation. “What part of the Old Kingdom was this originally, Your Majesty?”
“It was Haleb-lor, the Ring of Haleb. Now it is known as the Kingdom of Adamant. When the Old Kingdom fell, three seers raised a curtain of adamant around this plain that shielded this place even from the eyes of the Destroyer and protects it from those evil creatures that crawl the land around us. Alas, the curtain took such power to raise, that the seers paid for it with their lives. No sooner was it in place than they died. Their sacrifice, however, was not in vain, for their work still protects us to this very day. Strangely, you are the first to ever find a way through the curtain. The Turog have never done so and as the curtain does not distinguish between Turog and human, I am at a loss to understand how you got through.”
“We were extremely fortunate to find a way through, as we were in dire peril, trapped at the end of those tunnels by the Turog,” Relisar replied, some instinct telling him to avoid the question.
The King regarded him steadily for a moment as if he would have liked to have persisted, but then suddenly decided to let the matter go.
“You are my guests,” he said grandly. “Quarters will be found for you in the palace and this evening you must dine with me and tell me the story of how you come to be here. You must have had many adventures and I’m sure it is a tale worth hearing.”
The Prince bowed again. “Thank you, Sire. I fear that we cannot trespass on your kindness for more than a few days, as it is imperative for us to return to Eskendria as soon as possible.”
The King smiled ruefully. “Surely you would not deprive me of the pleasure of your company so soon? You must not think of leaving just yet, unless, of course, you have been offended by your initial reception.”
“Not at all. I understand only too well your need for security.”
“Very well then. The Captain will show you to your quarters in a moment, but first there is someone I would like you to meet. My mother is a very old lady and rarely leaves her rooms but her greatest pleasure is in meeting new people. I should explain that she is completely blind but has something of the gift of second sight and delights to surprise people by how much she can tell about them without the benefit of physical sight.”
He led them through a side door into a handsome apartment, in which, despite the heat of the summer, a small fire was burning. An old lady, tiny and frail as a bird, sat in a chair by the fire. Her long silver hair lay loose on her shoulders like moonlight, in contrast to her midnight-black velvet robe. As they entered, she turned her head towards the door and they saw that her eyes were almost white, filmed over like mist. Before anyone could speak, in a dry, faint voice like the rustling of last year’s leaves, she said: “Who is this that you have brought to visit me, my son?”
“Strangers to our kingdom, mother.”
“Do they know that the old Queen sees better without her eyes?”
“They do.”
She turned her head towards her visitors. Andarion, ever courteous, stepped forward to greet her, but the King held up his hand to restrain him, and gestured for silence.
“I see a Prince, tall and fair,” the old woman mused in a cracked voice. “Direct descendant of a noble line. I see a man whose heart is true and free of guile, but troubled with a great burden of fear for the land of his birth.” She stared at the Prince with her sightless eyes. “The Kingdom of Adamant is honoured by your presence, Prince Andarion.”
The King, noting the Prince’s astonishment, smiled proudly. “Is she not remarkable? Few have such gifts these days.”
The silver head turned in Triana’s direction. “Ah! What a pleasure it is to see great beauty of form combined with beauty of character. There is great kindness and sympathy in your heart, little one. Have no fear, the road may be long but your heart’s desires will be fulfilled, though never again will you return to the forests of Kelendore.”
She paused for a moment, as if thinking over what she had said before turning her attention to Elorin. “Here is something unusual. A girl with no name. Yet Elorin will always be your name because it becomes you better than the one you had before. Your distant past is unknown to me but the course your future takes depends on how you read your own heart. Face your fate with the courage you have always shown.”
She sighed. “Relisar, last of the Order of the Book. Well intentioned, kind of heart, but, alas, not skilled or gifted enough to fulfil the task you have set for yourself. You will seek long and hard, with many bitter tears but you will never find the one you seek. Yet despite your failures, you are much loved by your companions.”
Relisar looked away, desperately trying to hide his distress and failing signally.
“Who is this dark and silent stranger?” the old woman asked, turning to Celedorn.
The King told her his name and she repeated it, turning the first sy
llable into a hiss.
“I see strength and determination, but all else is shrouded in darkness. Why do you hide yourself from me? I cannot see you!” she exclaimed, her voice rising. “I cannot find you! Show yourself!” Suddenly she gave a cry and recoiled, flinging up her hands as if to ward off a blow. “Ah! You should not treat an old woman so!”
The others stared in astonishment, for Celedorn had neither spoken nor moved.
“I think you had better leave,” said the King gravely. “My mother is upset.”
When they were outside the room, Relisar turned to Celedorn, amazement written all over his face. “What on earth happened?”
Celedorn shrugged dismissively. “She tried to get into my mind, so I told her to get out.”
“I felt it too,” volunteered Triana. “It was as if she was speaking to me inside my head, asking questions which I felt obliged to answer, but......well, it wasn’t threatening.”
“Perhaps not,” replied Celedorn. “But my thoughts are my own.”
“She has a remarkable gift,” observed Relisar sadly and everyone knew what he was thinking.
“She’s wrong, Relisar,” Elorin told him kindly. “You have never failed any of us. If it had not been for you, we would be lying in those tunnels with our throats cut by the Turog.”
But he refused to be comforted. “I failed you, Elorin. I took away your past, deprived you of your earlier life.”
“Don’t look so sad, Relisar. We have no idea what my life was like before. It is possible that you rescued me from an unhappy life. Perhaps I now have something better than I had before. Certainly, I have gained four of the truest friends anyone could ever wish for. I count that riches indeed.”
Triana added her mite. “The old woman was right in only one respect, Relisar - you are much loved.”
Tears stood in the old Sage’s eyes. “Bless you, my dear. I will try to be worthy of you all, and I will not give up on my quest. I will find the Champion, despite all she predicted.”