The Crystal Chalice (Book 1)

by R. J. Grieve

  “Perhaps they won’t notice us here,” she suggested.

  The search wasn’t interrupting the revelry. The guards found themselves either ignored or regarded as a minor nuisance. One of the barmaids gave a raucous shriek of laughter as she found herself pulled down onto a customer’s lap. In response she gave him a resounding kiss.

  Celedorn, observed this. “I don’t think I should have brought you in here,” he apologised to Elorin. “This place would not appear to be - how shall I put it? - entirely respectable.”

  Elorin, far from being shocked, looked around her in round-eyed fascination. “I thought the barmaids were a little over-familiar with the customers.”

  “You must leave, Elorin,” said Celedorn quietly, not taking his eye off the guards. “They are not looking for you. You must leave before they close in on us.”

  But she wasn’t convinced. “I think it would be better if I stayed. After all, they are looking for a man on his own, not one with a woman. Would it not confuse your identity?”

  He laughed softly and bitterly. “My dear child, take a good look at my face and tell me if it is one you could ever fail to identify. They have orders to look for a man with three diagonal scars across his left cheek- one glimpse is all they will need.”

  “But if we sit in this dark corner, and if you turn your injured side to the wall, perhaps they will not notice us,” she persisted.

  “They are turning every man around, examining his face. There is no chance of remaining undiscovered.” As he spoke, he loosened the sword in his scabbard. Noting the gesture, she exclaimed: “There are too many of them, Celedorn, even you could not tackle them all.”

  “Leave, Elorin,” he repeated in a low, fierce voice. “Just for once stop arguing and do as you are told.”

  But her attention was focused across the room and suddenly she observed: “They are not interrupting the men who are....er....engaged with the barmaids.”

  “I had noticed.” He looked at her doubtfully, as if unsure whether to proceed or not, then ventured slowly: “The only way they might not see these scars of mine is if your hand is covering them.”

  She gaped at him in astonishment. “My hand? Won’t that look a little odd if I’m sitting here with my hand glued to your cheek?”

  He raised his eyes to hers, his expression strange in the dim light. “Not if I were to kiss you.”

  She stared back in silence. When she didn’t reply, he shrugged dismissively. “I’ve got out of tighter corners than this. Don’t worry about me. Just stand up and walk quietly to the door. They won’t stop you, I’m certain of it.”

  Slowly she arose to her feet, but instead of leaving, she crossed to him and sat down a little defiantly on his knee. Once more they stared at each other without speaking, then she lifted her hand and carefully positioned it on his cheek, making sure the scars were completely hidden. She noticed that he flinched when she touched them, even though her hand was gentle.

  The guards, wending their way between the crowds, were closer now, approaching the table in the corner, turning every man to face them as they came. Distantly, Elorin was aware of them, of the laughter of one of the barmaids, of the gabble of conversation, of the dark intimacy of the corner where they sat, a single candle on the table creating a subdued glow.

  Celedorn snuffed out the candle, rendering their corner even darker, and put his arms around her. In the dim light, she noticed that his grey eyes were the colour of wood smoke, all trace of hardness gone from them. He dropped his gaze to her lips and his face drifted closer to hers. She wondered what his kiss would be like. Would it be harsh and ruthless, as he himself could sometimes be? But she was in for a surprise. She saw his eyelids slide closed, and a moment later his lips touched hers with infinite gentleness. Tenderly he kissed her, yet with such intense and sensitive desire that she felt every nerve in her body begin to tingle in response. Unable to prevent herself, she began to return his kiss. Her lips parted under his and her arm slid around his neck. All at once, it flashed into her mind to wonder what he would be like as a lover. Her imagination obligingly presented her with such a vivid picture that she felt a tide of colour rise up in her face and a sudden stab of desire cut though her with such sharpness it was almost painful. He clearly felt her reaction, for his arms tightened and his kiss became yet more passionate.

  Her emotions were in chaos and she began to wonder if she knew herself at all. How could she respond to him with such willingness when she had just been rejected by the man she loved? How could she be thrown into such confusion by him?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud and ribald comment close beside her. Her eyes flickered briefly open and she saw two guards standing near them.

  “Hey you two, come up for air!” one shouted coarsely.

  The other shook his head when they found themselves ignored. “Lucky hound,” he remarked, glumly looking at Celedorn. “Why does no one ever kiss me like that?”

  His friend guffawed. “One of these lovely ladies will - for a price.”

  The other threw up his hands in disgust. “Ah! This is a waste of time. He’s obviously not here. What a night! The captain lashing us on as if he were possessed, not even allowing a man enough time for a drink.”

  Elorin felt Celedorn’s lips leave hers, only to touch the soft hollow beneath her throat. She tilted her head backwards in an unconsciously encouraging gesture, retaining only just enough presence of mind to keep her hand pressed to his cheek.

  “Don’t wear yourself out, lad,” the older guard advised the apparently oblivious Celedorn.

  They turned and wended their way towards the door.

  “They are leaving,” whispered Elorin

  “I know,” Celedorn murmured against her throat, wishing only that her collar were not preventing him from going further.

  Reluctantly he raised his head, and for a brief, yet seemingly endless moment of time, looked into her eyes with such desire, that her heart began to quicken its pace.

  Quickly he looked away, his emotions in as much chaos as hers but for a very different reason.

  The room was now empty of guards. “Time to leave,” he said, his voice a little rough. Without thinking, he held out his hand to her, unwilling to be totally parted from her. A little reluctantly she took it, no longer certain where she stood with him. Her entire inner being was in a state of upheaval. Confusion and self-doubt jostled within her until she felt almost dizzy. For a brief, chilling moment she wondered if her reaction to him had just been to soothe the pride wounded by the Prince’s rejection. Perhaps she was just trying to prove to herself that she could be attractive to another man. But she dismissed the thought in disgust. Whatever she felt, whatever was causing such turmoil, it was not hurt pride.

  Her passionate response to him had so badly shaken her, that she became silent and withdrawn in reaction. Celedorn, looking down at her as they left the tavern, wondered if he had been wise. The temptation had been too much for him. To kiss her, albeit under false pretences, was irresistible to him and he had succumbed. Yet to his surprise, instead of merely tolerating him, she had returned his kiss with such emotion that he had let down his guard and allowed himself to express his love for her in his touch. Now she was distant, remote, and he cursed himself for being a fool.

  The street outside was clear of guards, and silently, without a word being exchanged, they crossed the streets until they entered the quieter, more deserted part of the city that led to the gate. It was now guarded, as Celedorn had expected, but the walls were not difficult to climb. When they reached the top, he lowered himself down the length of his arms and neatly dropped down outside the city. He held out his arms for Elorin but she refused his help and dropped the rest of the way herself, landing safely - if not quite so elegantly.

  The two horses were tethered in the grove, swishing their tails in the still night air. The grey pricked his ears intelligently when Elorin untied him. Celedorn mounted a glossy chestnut animal that was obvious
ly tired of waiting around. It sidled and fidgeted, clearly keen for a gallop. It was soon to get its wish. As they emerged from the copse, the guard at the city gate spotted them and sent up a shout of alarm. Celedorn shortened his rein, twisting in the saddle to look over his shoulder.

  “They’ll be after us in a moment,” he said to Elorin. “Time to give these two their heads.”

  The horses lengthened their stride to a gallop, flashing through the darkened villages like a storm-driven wind. Side by side they shot along the white road towards the mountains, the grey gamely keeping up with its fleeter companion. Occasionally they had to drop to a walk to give the horses a breather, before picking up the pace again, the wooded slopes growing ever closer. As the ground began to ascend, Celedorn reined in his horse and halted, listening intently and peering into the darkness behind them.

  “I can’t see them but they won’t be far behind. They will most likely guess where we are headed and that does not give us much time. I hope Relisar has the curtain already open.”

  But Relisar had done nothing of the sort. His anxiety about his companions made him agitated and confused. He tried desperately to remember the words but he couldn’t concentrate and they simply wouldn’t come. He was pacing back and forth before the rock face where they had made their unexpected appearance in the kingdom all those weeks ago, when he detected the sound of thudding hooves approaching at speed.

  Andarion heard it too and stiffened to attention, his hand on his sword. “It’s them!” he exclaimed in relief. However, his greeting to Elorin lacked his usual courtesy.

  “You slipped away when my back was turned, madam.” he accused. “Of all the idiotic things to have done!” He flung up his hand. “Tell her, Celedorn!”

  But Celedorn just shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here now and I’m afraid we have probably brought half the guards in the kingdom in our train. Is the curtain open?”

  In reply Andarion rolled his eyes heavenwards in a gesture more expressive than words.

  “I see,” said Celedorn dryly. He turned to Relisar who was beaming at him with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “I appreciate that you are glad to see us, Relisar, but the respite is only temporary. You must open the curtain.”

  “Yes, yes, don’t pressurise me. I can’t think while I’m being harassed. Just move away a little, and give me space to think. I’m sure I’ll have it open in a trice.”

  They did as he asked and soon heard him muttering to himself. “Ingrendieth.....no.....incandria.....no....”

  “He’s going to do it again,” remarked the Prince despairingly. “He’ll wait until we are on the brink of destruction before he gets it right.”

  Triana touched Elorin’s arm. “What happened in the city? How did you get away?”

  Elorin, suddenly shy of speaking about what had happened, replied dismissively: “A lot of running which ended in us climbing the city wall.”

  Celedorn, who heard her reply, flicked a curious glance in her direction, but passed no comment.

  “Listen!” said the Prince suddenly. They all heard it. The sound of many horses. He turned to Relisar. “It’s now or never. Have you found the counter-spell yet?”

  “Oh yes,” said the old man with great sang-froid, “I opened the curtain some minutes ago, I just didn’t want to interrupt your conversation.”

  Andarion gave an explosive noise of frustration and grabbed his horse’s bridle. “We must bring the horses through with us, in case we are pursued beyond the borders of the kingdom.” But he suffered a check when he found that his horse would not follow him through the curtain. It jibbed and backed away, its eyes rolling in fear. Even Celedorn and he together could not force it to go through.

  “We’ll have to leave them,” snapped Celedorn, aware that the pounding hooves were getting closer.

  “No need,” said Relisar blithely and lifting his hand, placed it between the horse’s eyes and muttered something under his breath. “A calming spell,” he explained. “Try again.”

  Although the horse was still reluctant, it allowed itself to be dragged through and disappeared into the rock wall. Triana and Elorin, leading their mounts, went next. At that moment a large body of cavalry rode into sight, ascending the white road at a full gallop. They were led by Naldian.

  “Take my horse and go through, Celedorn,” Relisar said tensely. “And don’t argue, you know very well that I must be the last to go through.” When Celedorn had gone, he turned to face the riders, now skidding to a halt in front of him in a cloud of white dust.

  Unafraid, in a loud, clear voice, he addressed them. “Your kingdom exists with the leave of the Destroyer because the House of Parth betrayed mankind. Their treachery led to the destruction of the Old Kingdom and the death of many good men. Now I tell you, if ever the Turog are defeated, the House of Parth will not long survive them. Eskendria, the last remnant of the Old Kingdom, will exact vengeance - of that you may be assured.”

  Before they could respond, he stepped swiftly back through the wall.

  When he emerged in the tunnel, he was greeted by pandemonium. He had forgotten that none of the others had any light and were consequently plunged into pitch blackness. The horses, shaking off the temporary effects of the spell, had panicked, and in the dark confines of the passage were rearing and snorting, cannoning into each other, their owners clinging desperately to their bridles trying unavailingly to control them.

  Relisar groped on the floor for a stone. At first, all he encountered were strangely shaped, brittle things that he could not identify.

  Triana was sobbing with fright. “What is in here? What is frightening the horses so much? I can’t see anything!”

  Relisar’s hand at last closed on a stone, which he instantly caused to glow. A scene of total chaos met his eyes. Triana’s horse reared up, lifting its diminutive owner right off her feet, still stubbornly clinging to the reins. The Prince and Elorin had become entangled with each other, the confusion made worse by their mounts backing and sidling, showing the whites of their eyes in terror. Celedorn had two horses to contend with and although his own stood still, sweating and trembling with fear, the other lashed out with its hind legs, its hooves narrowly missing Triana’s mount. In the same instant, the faint glow of the stone revealed the cause of their terror. The passage was choked with the bones of Turog. Sculls, ribcages, thigh bones all picked clean and cracking under the horses stamping hooves. Scattered amongst the carnage were weapons, helmets and shields.

  The Prince, finally getting his horse under control, suddenly realised what he was standing in.

  “Good God! What has happened here? These surely are the Turog who pursued us.”

  Relisar was helping Triana calm her mount. Her eyes darted fearfully around the tunnel.

  “Father of Light protect us!” she exclaimed. “There is evil at work here.”

  “You are right, my dear,” relied Relisar, who was the only one who knew what had happened. “We must leave this place at once.” He glanced uneasily at the stone carvings of the snakes, back in their place on the walls, thankfully inert. “There is no time to be lost. The passage is too low to ride the horses, so we must lead them across.....” he gestured helplessly with his hand. “......across all this.”

  “I can’t cross that!” squeaked Triana.

  “You’re standing in it already,” observed Celedorn, somewhat less than tactfully.

  “I can’t! I can’t!”

  Elorin caught her by the shoulder. “Then mount your horse. If you bend low over the saddle there will be enough headroom. We must go!”

  Triana nodded and swiftly mounted. Her horse showed signs of misbehaving again, until Celedorn’s iron fist caught its bridle beside the bit and unceremoniously pulled its head down.

  They began to pick their way over the bones, leading their trembling horses. The macabre debris cracked and crunched under their feet until Elorin looked as if she was going to be sick. Some of the bodies appeared to
have been ripped apart. Sculls lay scattered, detached from their torsos, arm and leg bones protruded at crazy angles from the chaos.

  Faintly, above the crunching of the bones, Relisar thought he detected a soft hiss. His eye darted towards the encircling blackness that lay beyond the faint halo of the glowing stone. Beyond the light, at the edge of the darkness, something was moving. Pairs of baleful green eyes began to glimmer in the darkness.

  “Faster!” cried Relisar, the panic in his voice sending alarm through the others.

  The light briefly touched the shining scales of a long tail as it slithered down the wall.

  “Run! Run!” shrieked Relisar.

  The walls and ceilings were all now moving and sliding as the stone serpents awoke. They had killed recently and were ready to do so again. It mattered not to them whether they feasted on Turog or human flesh.

  The company charged along the passage. Triana’s horse, scenting escape, bolted down the tunnel with its rider clinging desperately to its mane. The other horses, too, began to drag their owners faster and faster along the winding tunnel in a terror-stricken rout.

  A chorus of hisses took to the air behind them, issuing menacingly out of the darkness, spurring them on.

  At last they burst through the curtain of ivy into the fresh, starlit night, away from the claustrophobic confines of the deadly tunnel. A last faint hiss issued from the passage before declining.

  “They were alive!” The Prince shuddered. “The stone snakes actually came alive. Triana was right, there is evil at work here.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Relisar. “The House of Parth was ever evil, ever drawn to darkness.” He wiped his forehead with the tail of his beard. “By the way, where is Triana?”

  “Here,” came a rather woebegone voice from behind some bushes. “That.....that impossible animal no sooner stuck its nose out of the tunnel than it threw me.” She emerged limping slightly. “And to add insult to injury,” she added, “I landed in a holly bush.”

  Celedorn choked, vainly trying to smother a laugh, but it was infectious and soon they were all laughing, even Triana.