Mystic Warrior (34 page)

“Between us, we can move mountains,” Lis whispered. “Surely the gods would not lead us so far only to kill us. And if we must die, I'd rather we did so together.”

“You are a morbid creature.” He scowled down at her.

“ ‘Whither thou goest . . . ,' ” she repeated cheerfully. And without further warning than that, she stepped into the dank air spilling from the long-closed tunnel.

Cool air flowed around Lissandra as she took careful steps over the rocky ground. She could hear water trickling, but she could tell this part of the tunnel had been widened by tools and not water. Ancient torch marks darkened the ceiling only inches above her head.

Behind her, Murdoch wrapped his hand in her braid and tugged gently, with no intent to hurt. “You really mean to be the death of me, don't you?”

“I almost was, once,” she whispered, letting her despair show. “Because of me, my mother nearly killed you. We've wasted too much time already. Don't make me lose more worrying over you.”

“What I did, what your mother did, was not your fault,” he said firmly. “If it is purity of heart the chalice requires before it will go home, then you are the one who possesses it, not me. Let us rescue a chalice.”

She nearly stumbled beneath the weight of relief. “We are stronger as a pair.”

“I'll not deny that,” Murdoch agreed. “I just deny the need for both of us to die.”

“That's fine, then,” she said cheerfully, setting off down the tunnel in the glow of their flames. “Let's not die.”

“No one's dying here,” Badeaux agreed, following them in.

Lis sighed in relief when the miner did not roll the boulder back in place. She could still see the light at the end of the tunnel. His good humor after days of gloom, however, was odd. Perhaps he needed earth over his head to stabilize his disturbed thoughts.

“You do realize fearlessness is next to foolishness, don't you?” Murdoch grumbled, placing a hand at the small of her back to support her as they traversed the uneven path, Badeaux huffing and puffing behind them. The tunnel inclined uphill.

“Would you like my mother's lecture on fear being wasted on our sort?” she asked, just to hear human sound rather than echoing blackness.

Having heard that lecture countless times, Murdoch switched his line of attack. “I don't suppose you See us walking out of here?”

“Have you ever received such a clear message?” she countered. “All I know is that I'm supposed to go with you. If we have lessons yet to learn before we can take the cup home, then let us learn them quickly.” Eagerness and anxiety warred behind her brave words.

The tunnel narrowed. Water coated the rocks they touched. But the ground was more dirt than rock, hard-packed and rutted from human use. Lissandra felt the tor's power even stronger here, so strong that it distorted her perceptions. Murdoch appeared larger than life, like one of the ancients strolling through the real Olympus. His broad shoulders sheltered her. His formidable energy was a force field more durable than the one around Aelynn. Even ordinary clothes could not conceal his naked strength.

And the warrior was
hers
. The realization melted every remaining icicle that had once guarded her heart. “Can you sense the chalice yet? Or the altar?” she asked.

“Why would you seek such things when we have both on Aelynn?” the miner grumbled. “The pair of ye are as daft as the madmen who think they can overthrow an entire country.”

Lissandra let the miner complain. She had little patience with someone who had not concerned himself with his homeland for so long that he did not know what was happening there.

Murdoch held her more closely as he let his senses roam through the narrow corridor. “The hill is not large. The chamber is close, but the footing may be treacherous.”

Water dripped on her nose from the low roof. Murdoch had to stoop to walk beneath it. Cool air flowed around them, and she shivered. “If the Ancient Ones were tall, then they did not traverse this path.”

“Like us, they would use what was available. It's not impassable. Can you feel the vibrations, hear the hum? The holy lines of energy our ancestors followed pass through here with such force that the potential for miracles or disaster is enormous. I think if we drew a straight line south, it would connect directly with Aelynn.”

“Then it's almost like being home.”

“Except we cannot walk through a volcano.” Murdoch raised the light in his palm and eased more cautiously past a boulder carved in ancient runes.

The tunnel widened into a high, narrow chamber. The trickle of water rang more loudly. Lissandra glanced nervously at the arched limestone ceiling where a crack down the middle occasionally dripped. She didn't possess much earth energy, but even she knew limestone was fragile and splintered easily.

“Don't you worry,” Badeaux said, apparently following the path of her gaze. “I can hold that ceiling in place just as I'm shielding you now. Not a rock will fall with me about.”

Murdoch held up the flame in his hand to better illuminate the shadows at the back of the long chamber.

Directly beneath the peak of the tor was an altar very similar to the one on Aelynn.

Serenely waiting on the altar, surrounded by an incandescent glow of blue light, sat a glittering, jeweled chalice—the answer to all their prayers.

Having the sacred Chalice of Plenty within his grasp was so overwhelming, so awe-inspiring, that Murdoch would have fallen to his knees had Lis not flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He hugged her tight and let anticipation run wild. All things were possible now. If Lissandra was right and the gods were truly with them . . .

He might have Lis to himself, might be able to return to Aelynn. He might even start believing her nonsense about the gods in his ring.
Might.
It was a powerful word.

If the gods would let him take the chalice home . . .

Badeaux whistled, breaking the spell of awe that had enraptured Murdoch and Lis.

“I certainly didn't sense that down here,” the miner muttered. “How can that be?” he asked, more to himself than to anyone else.

“I fear it will disappear if I profane it with my touch,” Murdoch murmured against Lis's hair, pressing a kiss to her brow to reassure himself that this moment was real. Her excitement fed his, and he was almost ready to dance her around the room.

“If our vision runs true, the chalice won't come with us if it isn't meant to,” she warned, returning him to the practical. “If it is similar to the Arthurian tales, only the rightful king—the Oracle—will be able to hold on to it.”

Turning in his arms, Lis leaned her head back against his shoulder, and together, they studied the gleaming silver object. The jewels on the cup's base glittered with reds and blues that would sparkle like fire in sunlight.

“The dream was more clear than most,” he agreed, “but I assume we must test it. I, for one, will not willingly forgo the chance of a lifetime without at least trying.”

Badeaux looked at them with suspicion. “You knew this thing was down here?”

“It's the reason we're here.” Murdoch didn't think the old miner even recognized the Chalice of Plenty. It had seldom been removed from the Oracle's protection. If Badeaux had left the island as a young man, it was conceivable he'd never seen it. Murdoch saw no need to explain to the miner.

“The vision showed me trying first. Shall I?” Lis asked.

“You are far more pure of heart than I am.” If anyone deserved to be Oracle, it was Lis. Swallowing his fear, clinging to hope, Murdoch dropped his arm from her waist but stayed at her side as she stepped up to the altar.

He held his breath while her long fingers stroked the stem lovingly—before curling around the silver and lifting. The cup resisted her pull, even when she used both hands.

Just like in their dream.

“The power here gives it strength.” She rubbed the cup again, testing its tenacity. “Seeing it here like this, I can believe all the legends they tell of this place.”

Murdoch resisted touching her while she continued to test her will against the chalice. Despair etched his heart when the cup wouldn't move.

“Let me give it a rip,” Badeaux exclaimed. He reached for the sacred chalice as if it were a mug of ale, again breaking their state of awe and reverence.

The miner grabbed the stem and tugged. At the profanity of his handling, the chalice illuminated the chamber with the power of a thousand candles, and flung Badeaux backward as if blown off his feet by explosives. He landed hard on the dirt floor.

With a cry of alarm, Lis dropped to her knees to check the old man's pulse and under his eyelids. “He's still alive!”

Murdoch refrained from expressing the sarcasm on the tip of his tongue. He had no great wish to be flattened by the gods for his irreverence, if that was what had just happened to the miner. The gods were obviously a feisty bunch. Testing the chamber with his earth sense, he decided the miner's energy shield wasn't needed in here, for the moment. “Let him sleep, then.”

She hesitated, then nodded agreement.

There was no reason for the miner to see him fail. Murdoch had never felt so paralyzed as he did now, with so much riding on his next step.

Taking a deep breath, repeating the lessons Dylys had taught him, he cleansed his mind of all impure thought and reached for the sacred vessel that might free him from the prison in which he'd lived these last years.

Callused from a lifetime of swordplay, his broad hand covered the stem from bowl to base. He lifted. The chalice remained fixed to the altar.

Before he could let disappointment crush him, or think of another method of challenging the damned gods, the floor shook, and he whipped around to see the Minutor struggling to his knees, holding the back of his head. “Stop that!” Murdoch commanded in irritation.

The old miner rubbed his furrowed brow, then shook his shaggy head as if to clear it, and stared at no visible personage. “Louise!” he said clearly.

Glancing at the cracked, unshielded ceiling, Murdoch placed himself between the dazed man and Lis. If the miner splintered the rocks in his stupor, Murdoch needed to intervene, except he hadn't tried to repair anything since childhood—for good reason. He couldn't maintain his focus long enough to pull together the broken parts and hold them in place to mend them.

Badeaux blinked and disregarded Murdoch's protective stance. Stumbling to his feet, he rubbed the bruise on the back of his head and viewed the chamber with an odd detachment. “The gods approve of my plan! I was right to follow you. Praise be to Aelynn and all that is holy.”

His change in manner was so startling that Murdoch and Lis both froze in place.

Eyes glowing oddly, Badeaux removed two pistols from his capacious coat pockets. “Who better to halt a war than the high priestess of Aelynn?”

Clearly, the man's grief-stricken mind had cracked beneath too many strains.

Enraged at the miner's threat, Murdoch sought a menacing calm in hopes of finding a peaceful solution that wouldn't get them all killed. Hand on his sword hilt, he attempted to See past the miner's disintegrating mental barriers, but he could feel only his pain. If Lis could touch him, she might be able to Heal whatever had been jarred loose in the miner's head. He needed to disarm Badeaux first.

“We do not interfere in the Other World,” he cautiously reminded the miner.

“I would think I'd have your support in this,” Badeaux argued as if they discussed the price of grain. “The French rabble are killing all that is beautiful and prosperous in their country. Did you think your priest in the village was a man of God? He was just another thief with an arsenal to kill aristocrats and steal from the rich, just like the blackguards who stole my Louise.”

“You led the committee to the priest!” Appalled, Lissandra stated what they had already surmised but had had no way of proving. “They almost killed that good man!”

She tried to step around Murdoch, but he pushed her back. Something in the old miner's head was out of alignment. Until the guns were out of Badeaux's hands, he wouldn't let Lis near him. Here was the danger he'd sensed—not a physical danger that he could battle with sword or lightning. He suppressed a shudder of dread. He didn't want to kill the demented old man. Spilling Aelynn blood would profane this holy chamber.

Badeaux shrugged. “I hoped the committee would lead me to the lady. I saw her in Pouchay and followed, but she hid too well.”

“Why
me
?”

Murdoch winced at her astonishment. Lis had been sheltered in her mother's shadow for so long, she truly had no idea how valuable she was. In an effort to curb his temper, he clutched the hilt of his weapon and struggled to find some means of disarming the miner. Pistols inside a crumbling tunnel were as hazardous as his volatile earth powers.

“Isn't it obvious?” the Minutor retorted. “An Olympus can call on an army of skilled warriors. You can end the Revolution!”

“The lady is pledged to uphold the laws of Aelynn,” Murdoch protested, still fighting his rage that any man, much less one of Aelynn, would threaten Lis. “You know she cannot do as you ask. The Other World must fight its own battles.”

Lis pinched him, but Murdoch ignored her warning. She might be able to speak for herself far better than he could, but Badeaux had gone past reason.

The miner shrugged. “She can persuade the Council otherwise. I've seen her family do it, but if that is not her wish, there are other means. It looks to me as if you are her other half, a warrior who can fight on terms the Other World understands. Between us, we can force the Council to cooperate. Give me your support, and I'll hand the weapons to you.”