The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (29 page)

 The others, however,
seeing that things were not going as planned, piled onto Celedorn in a pack. A
confused flurry of punches was exchanged but it was soon evident that Celedorn,
though fighting still, was being overborne.

 Elorin, conscious that
it was her indiscretion that had perpetrated the situation, flew to his aid.
She picked up a bottle from the table and waded into the fight. The bottle came
down with such force on the head of one of the sailors that it burst apart and
her victim crumpled without a sound to the floor. Unfortunately, her second
victim was quicker, and abandoning Celedorn, caught her wrist and began to
twist it unmercifully. With a cry of pain she dropped the bottle and promptly
bit the hand that was hurting her. Celedorn, in the meantime, had made good use
of the respite and had tripped one of his assailants and thrown another with a
smart twist of his hip. Just as the man fell crashing into a table, the
remaining sailor landed such a terrific blow on Celedorn’s jaw that it threw
him backwards onto the floor. He fell sprawling by the door, just as it opened
to admit Prince Andarion.

 The Prince was not
thrown out of his stride by the event, but looked down at Celedorn with a touch
of contempt. One quick glance around the room told him all he needed to know.
Two strides brought him to the man who was struggling with Elorin. He caught
the sailor by the shoulder, and spinning him around, landed such a solid blow
that it hurled him against the wall. Celedorn’s erstwhile victims had by this
time arisen from the floor, still full of fight, and he and the Prince turned
as of one accord to face them.  Now that the odds had evened, Elorin was
leaping up and down with excitement, calling out encouragement and advice.
Furniture broke, thuds and cries could be heard as blows were exchanged, but
the sailors were losing enthusiasm for the fight and eventually backed away.
Finally, after picking up their unconscious companions from the floor, they
beat a strategic retreat.

 Everyone looked in
silence at each other when the door closed behind them. The Prince had emerged
from the fight dishevelled but unhurt, but Celedorn was dripping blood from a
cut on his lip and had a red mark on his jaw that was rapidly swelling.

 Andarion paid no heed
to him but crossed to Elorin, his face a mask of concern.

 “Elorin, are you all
right? Did they hurt you?”

 “No, I’m fine. I’m not
hurt.”

 “It’s just typical of
that barbarian to start a brawl when you are present, paying no heed to the
fact that you might have been hurt.” He jerked his head at Celedorn, who had
sat down on a chair and was wiping blood from his lip with the back of his
hand.

 “Well, actually it was
my fault,” Elorin confessed hastily, aware of Celedorn’s eye upon her. “He only
got embroiled because he came to my rescue - then to make matters worse, I let
out his identity.”

 The Prince looked
sharply at Celedorn. “Is this true?”

 The mountain brigand
sadly shook his head. “You have no idea the amount of trouble she has dragged
me into. I thought you were sending her to me as a hostage, but in reality I
think she was some sort of secret weapon.”

 The Prince looked a
little startled, as if he didn’t know how to take that statement, but Elorin
was shaking with laughter. She pulled out her handkerchief from her pocket and
kneeling before Celedorn, gently pressed it to his lip.

 “I’m sorry, Celedorn.
Once again, it was my fault.”

 “Oh, I don’t know,” he
replied sotto voce. “I was spoiling for a fight, and you wouldn’t let me touch
him
.”
He nodded to Andarion, who was picking up a broken chair. “I think it’s
probably done me good.”

 “You are incorrigible,”
she declared, torn between exasperation and amusement. She carefully removed
the handkerchief and inspected the damage. “Your lip is swelling but at least
your teeth are all intact.”

 She looked over her
shoulder at Andarion. “How do you come to be here?” she asked.

 “I came because I felt
I shouldn’t have let you return alone. I wanted to make sure you were all
right.”

 This was too much for
Celedorn. He began to laugh, then winced with pain and was forced to change his
mind. “Now that you are both here,” he said, “I have something to tell you that
you won’t like. I have spent the entire day trying to find out what is going
on, and you are not going to care for the results. I got into conversation with
one of the guards from the towers across the bridge and he told me that the
Turog are massing in great numbers just out of sight beyond the great headland
to the north. He was certain the rope-bridge will soon have to be cut and the
towers abandoned. Worse still, from the top of the towers, a Turog fleet can be
seen standing out to sea. No doubt they will move in to cut off the island,
once the landward attack begins.”

 Andarion frowned. “How
much time do you think we have?”

 “Very little. Once the
rope-bridge is cut, we will be trapped here. Apparently a small sailing boat
was dispatched to Kelendore to get help, but it ran into the Turog fleet and
was caught. It could be some time before Sirkris sees any outside help. Any
supplies stacked on the quays are being lifted up by the hoists, prior to the
harbour being abandoned.”

 “How did you get so
much out of this man?” the Prince asked suspiciously.

 Celedorn raised a
cynical eyebrow. “I used my charm.”

 The Prince wisely
decided to let that one pass. “It appears that the decision must now be made,”
he observed reflectively. “Do we stay here and stand siege, or risk the
Forsaken Lands?”

 Celedorn turned to
Elorin. “If we cross the Forsaken Lands we must rely on stealth to protect us.
The more who travel together, the less chance we have of remaining undetected.
You and I would do better alone. The old man and His Royal Highness will only
be a hindrance.”

 Before she could reply,
Andarion intervened. “Even you, for all your bravado, have no idea what we
would face in the Forsaken lands,” he chided Celedorn. “No one knows what the
terrain is like, or what secrets it holds. There could be rivers that cannot be
crossed, mountains too high to be climbed. No one knows any more, not even
Relisar who has studied all the available sources. You could starve to death,
never mind encountering the Turog. Are you really proposing to take Elorin on
such an expedition? Are you really that selfish?”

 “Elorin and I have
journeyed through the Forsaken Lands before.”

 “Yes, I heard. And what
exactly was it that you faced that night at Skerris-morl? What if that is not
the only evil thing you encounter? Relisar was convinced that it was a demon of
darkness - one of the Destroyer’s more unpleasant minions. You cannot fight
such a thing with a sword. How do you propose to keep Elorin safe?”

 “I never said that it
would be easy,” Celedorn replied irritably. “I am aware that it will be
dangerous but......” he hesitated.

 “But?” Andarion
prompted.

 “I have my doubts that
Sirkris will be able to hold out this time.”

 The Prince was
scornful. “Sirkris is impregnable.”

 “Nowhere is
impregnable,” Celedorn countered swiftly. “At best, it is going to be a very
long siege, at worst, a very short one.”

 Elorin who had been
deep in thought spoke up: “We should ask Relisar’s opinion.”

 “I already know it,”
the Prince replied reluctantly. “He is in favour of chancing the Forsaken
Lands. He says that it is our fate - or some such nonsense. What do you think,
Elorin? Is it our fate?”

 “I don’t know about
fate, but I do know that you must return to Eskendria as soon as possible.” She
glanced at Celedorn, who was watching her with curious intensity, and then
uncertainly back at the Prince again. “I....I think we should risk the Forsaken
Lands.”

 Celedorn relaxed his
tense posture and looked enquiringly at Andarion. “Do you agree? I want no
unwilling parties on this trip.”

 “I think it foolhardy.”

 Unable to resist
goading, Celedorn raised his brows speculatively. “Afraid?” he suggested
softly.

 The Prince took a hasty
step towards him, his hands clenching into fists again. “If Elorin goes, I will
go too - if only to protect her from you,” he spat.

 “Very well,” said his
tormentor, leaning back in his chair provokingly at his ease. “Have you
collected enough provisions or do you need more?”

 “We have as much as we
can carry, besides, it would be unwise to delay any longer in case they cut
down the bridge.”

 “I have a few things to
purchase tomorrow morning,” Elorin interposed.

 “In that case our
journey will start at noon tomorrow. We will meet here at that time. Are we
agreed?”

  That night Elorin
found that she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned in the soft feather bed.
Finally, she raised herself on her elbow and looked at the figure wrapped in
blankets, dimly outlined against the glow of the dying fire.

 “Celedorn?” she
whispered. “Are you awake?”

 He rolled onto his back
with a sigh. “What is it?”

 “What.....what if we
encounter that black cloud again - the thing Relisar calls a demon of
darkness?”

 “Better pray we don’t.”

 “But......”

 “If you are going to
stay awake all night, can I have the comfortable bed and you take the floor? At
least one of us should get the benefit of it, for it’s the last soft bed we are
likely to see for quite some time.”

 A soft chuckle issued
from the bed. “The Prince would be horrified by that discourteous speech.” She
lay back, gazing at the red glow the fire was making on the ceiling. “Think of
it, the heir to the throne of Eskendria will be going into the Forsaken Lands
tomorrow, with no more escort than an old man, a girl and a........”

 “........and a what?”
demanded Celedorn dangerously.

 “A stubborn,
irritating, provoking......”

 “All right,” he
interrupted hastily, “no need to labour the point.”

 There was silence for a
moment.

 “Celedorn?”

 He groaned. “What now?”

 “Do you think we’ll
make it?”

 His reply was so long
in coming that she raised herself on her elbow again. “As bad as that?”

 “Do you want
reassurance, or the truth? Because the truth is that I just don’t know. We don’t
know what we will be facing, but my hope is that rumour has exaggerated the
dangers, and with the Turog distracted by the attack on Sirkris, we may be able
to avoid detection. I still think we would do better by ourselves but I can see
that I am not going to be able to detach you from your Prince. Now stop asking
stupid questions and get some sleep - or if you can’t, at least let me get
some.”

 The next morning, when
Elorin returned to the inn after making her purchases, she found Celedorn in
the taproom attacking a large plate of ham and eggs. On the floor beside him
were two packs, one large and one small, with their cloaks neatly tied across
the top. Propped against the smaller pack was a bow and a quiver full of
deadly, steel-tipped arrows.

 He waved his knife at
her when she came in. “Come and join me,” he invited. “It will be camp fare
from now on, so make the most of your last decent meal.”

 She tucked her
purchases into the pack and sat down opposite him. He passed her a plate with
some slices of ham.

 “What time is it,” she
asked.

 “Almost noon. Your
friends should be here soon.”

 He had barely spoken
the words when the door burst open, precipitating Relisar and Andarion
hurriedly into the room. They too were carrying heavy packs, but from the looks
on their faces something was clearly wrong.

  “Quick!” Relisar
gasped. “You must come quickly! They are going to cut down the rope-bridge!”

  
Celedorn snatched up the packs, and tossed the bow to
Elorin.

 “Mother Sorna!” she
exclaimed.

 “I’ve paid her.”

 “But I wanted to say
goodbye!”

 “No time,” said Relisar
agitatedly. “We must hurry.”

 They sped through the
narrow streets, thankful that it was not market day and the way was clear.
Relisar brought up the rear, scuttling along like a startled rabbit, his grey
robes hitched up with little regard for his dignity.

 When they arrived at
the cliff opposite the towers, a crowd had assembled, obscuring their view of
the bridge. They pushed their way to the front, but even as they did so,
Celedorn’s keen eyes spotted several figures on the far side of the gulf, tiny
against the towering cliffs, attacking the ropes with axes.

 “We’re too late,” said
the Prince blankly.

 One of the ropes parted
and the bridge tipped over abruptly on its side. When the final rope was
severed, the bridge dived gracefully downwards until its tail hit the sea.

 “Why did they cut it
from the far side?” Elorin asked a bystander.

 “Don’t want to leave
anything the Turog could use against us. The towers have been stripped. The men
who wielded the axes will be picked up by boat further along the coast and
brought home. Sirkris stands alone now.”

 Several strong soldiers
were pulling up the remains of the bridge, hand over hand, until the frayed
ends arrived, dripping sea water.

 Relisar turned to the
Prince. “What do we do now?”

 Celedorn, who had been
standing watching the bridge being pulled in, turned and handed his pack to the
Prince.

 “I have an idea,” he
said. “Take the others back to the Grey Dolphin and I will meet you there
shortly.”

 “What are you going to
do?”

 “I’ll tell you when I
see you,” he replied evasively and disappeared into the crowd.

 The Prince was
disgruntled. “Since when do we take orders from
him
?”

 “We have little
alternative for the moment,” Relisar sighed with resignation.

  It was late afternoon
when Celedorn appeared at the inn and when he did so, he did not come alone. By
his side was a grizzled, weather-beaten man in his sixties. His skin was leathery
and brown, with deep lines etched around incongruously cheerful blue eyes.

 Celedorn introduced
him. “This is Pelgar, he is a fisherman who works from the harbour below. He
thinks perhaps he can help us.”

 “That’s right,” the man
confirmed. “I heard that you wished to go to the Forsaken Lands before the
siege starts, but unfortunately the bridge was cut down before you could cross.
Now, I have a rowing boat down in the harbour and if the payment is enough, I’d
be prepared to take you a couple of miles south of here and drop you off on the
shore. But you’d need to make up your minds quickly because they are closing
the harbour in the morning. All boats that are left will either be destroyed or
winched up to the top of the cliff. My fishing boat broke loose during the
storm and was smashed in the Devil’s Dyke but I still have a largish rowing
boat.”

 “Nothing big enough to
take us to Serendar, I suppose?” the Prince enquired.

 “Lord, no sir. My
rowing boat is one of the biggest vessels left. Mind you, it will be a bit of a
squeeze fitting you all in, but I think I can manage it.”

 “Pelgar has something
else of interest to tell us,” Celedorn interjected.

 “Well, yes,” the man
conceded. “I can give you a bit of information about the coast of the Forsaken
Lands immediately to the south of Sirkris. When I was a boy I took my rowing
boat and explored around there one summer. My father would have taken the hide
off me if he’d known, but you know what boys are! All you have to do is to tell
them that something is too dangerous and they are mad to give it a go. Now,
these tall cliffs and headlands continue southwards as far as they eye can see.
I’ll drop you off in one of the sandy coves between the headlands, and you can
make your way southwards from there along the base of the cliffs. There is a
shelf of rock at the cliff-foot which can be crossed at all times except a
spring tide. The headlands are interspersed with sandy coves, many of them
crossed by little streams. The bays will provide a good place to camp. After a
while, you come to a headland that sticks further out into the sea than its
fellows. It has no shelf, so you will be forced to go inland at that point. The
headland is unmistakable, because it has the ruins of Kerrian-tohr on it.”

 Relisar’s eyes lit up.
“It’s still there? The Palace of the Queen?”

 “Aye, it’s still
there.”

 “What is it like? Is
it........”

 “I can tell you nothing
more about it, other than the fact that it is in ruins. I would not return
there for any money.” He looked Relisar squarely in the eyes. “You see, it’s
haunted. Even the Turog won’t go near it. When I was a lad, I camped on the
beach below the Palace one night and I woke up in the small hours to see
ghostly blue lights travelling along its walls. Not a sound, not a soul in sight
but those silent blue lights moving as if of their own accord along the
battlements. My hair fairly stood on end, I can tell you. I haven’t been back
since and I have no intention of returning now. No, sir, there is no price high
enough to take me there.” The others exchanged glances as he drew a deep
breath, as if to shake off the memory. “There is a valley with steep sides that
heads inland behind Kerrian-tohr. It’s not wooded, but it will give you more
cover from prying eyes than the bare cliff-tops. Beyond that, I have no further
knowledge. My own view of the matter is that you are all crazy. Better to stay
here. The Turog are wasting their time trying to crack this nut. You’d be safe
here, but if you are determined to go, I’ll take you.”

 Celedorn looked
questioningly round the table and received reluctant nods of assent.

 “We are decided,” he
told Pelgar. “We will take our chances in the Forsaken Lands.”

 “Come to the hoists as
soon as it is dark, as there is no point in letting the Turog see what you are
doing. I have to be back in the harbour before daybreak, so I can leave you no
further than the first cove I told you about. Now, there is the little matter
of payment.”

 Celedorn’s lip curled.
“You will be paid when we reach the beach, not before.”

 The man looked ready to
argue but Celedorn set a sum in gold coins on the table.

 “That should be enough.
You can count it, if you like, but you don’t get it until we land.”

 “Very well,” Pelgar
agreed reluctantly. “Now remember, as soon as the light begins to fail, be at
the hoists.”

  As the day was already
far advanced when Pelgar left, they hadn’t long to wait. Elorin used the
opportunity to say goodbye to Mother Sorna and to thank her for all her
kindness. As she stood that evening, waiting in the darkness beside the hoists,
she remembered how the landlady’s chin had quivered when she heard of her
destination. Tears had also sprung into her kindly eyes.

 “To think of you barely
escaping death in that dreadful storm, just to go into the den of those murderous
creatures. It’s just too much to bear.”

 Elorin looked at the
others to see if they showed any signs of uneasiness. Celedorn was standing
with his back turned towards her, his arms folded, staring out towards the
darkening sea. Relisar was kneeling by his pack, fiddling with the straps but
she discovered that the Prince was watching her. Catching her eye, he crossed
to her side.

 “Having second
thoughts?” he asked softly.

 “Yes, but I’m not
backing out now. Besides,” she added, “it’s too late. Here comes Pelgar.”

 Pelgar had brought
three burly companions with him to operate the winch. Without a word, he
signalled to his passengers to follow him and stepped onto the gently swaying
platform of the hoist. When they all stepped on, the platform lurched
alarmingly and Elorin involuntarily clutched Celedorn’s arm. Knowing well the
reason she had to fear heights, he steadied her as the platform sank down the
cliff face until it bumped down onto the quay.

 Pelgar had not been
exaggerating when he said that it would be a tight squeeze to fit them all in
the boat, but when the last pack was forced under the seat, he pushed off and
soon the oars were dipping gently into the inky-black water. The sea seemed
exhausted after the fury of the storm and a misty moon glinted down on the
smoothly undulating surface. It was difficult to make out features in the
darkness, but Pelgar seemed to know his way as if by instinct. Once clear of
the harbour wall, he turned the boat southwards and it began to rise and fall
on the gentle black swell. In the darkness, no one noticed poor Relisar turn a
delicate shade of green.

  The waves could
faintly be heard breaking on the shore and a line of white surf could dimly be
seen on their left. The tall cliffs loomed above the surf, blacker than the
surrounding darkness, their presence somehow menacing. In the faint light cast
by the haloed moon, tall headlands could be seen thrusting out to sea, their
flat tops gleaming like pewter.

  Smoothly and
rhythmically the oars dipped in and out, scattering silver droplets. No one
spoke and there was no sound other than the hypnotic creak of the oars and the
quiet murmur of the sea. Headland after headland passed, as if in some sort of
trance and after what seemed a long time, the boat began to turn towards the
shore. It slid into the quieter waters between the long, sheltering arms of two
headlands. The moon momentarily slipped out from behind the thin veil of clouds
and lit up a deep horseshoe-shaped bay, set like a well between the dark cliffs.
The head of the bay bore a crescent of hard sand upon which the waves languidly
broke. As the boat grounded on the sand, the Prince, who had been sitting in
the bow, leaped into the water and pulled it higher. Relisar, still green about
the gills, scrambled over the side with more haste than elegance. The others
gathered up their belongings and followed at a more sedate pace. The mournful
cry of some seabird disturbed by their presence, echoed around the cove. Pelgar
did not get out of the boat but wordlessly held out his hand to Celedorn, who
dropped the golden coins into it.

 “Don’t try to cross the
shelf at the foot of the cliffs during the hours of darkness,” Pelgar advised.
“It would be too easy to break a leg in some deep pool or crevice. Wait on the
beach until daybreak.”

 Celedorn nodded and
shoved the boat off the sand.

 Pelgar’s voice floated
back to them across the water. “The Father of Light protect you, my friends,
for you shall surely need it.”

 They all stood in
silence, a little overwhelmed by what they were undertaking, and watched the
little boat head out to sea again until the darkness swallowed it.

 Andarion let out a
pent-up breath. “We are well and truly on our own now. For better or for worse,
our journey begins.”

 Celedorn was more prosaic.
“We should take Pelgar’s advice and wait until morning. We had better move up
to the head of the beach, as the tide is coming in.”

 They sat down on their
packs to wait for dawn. Each sat absorbed in thought, listening to the quiet
crunch and hiss of the waves upon the sand. Occasionally Celedorn raised his
eyes to the cliff-top and minutely examined its surface, silhouetted against
the sky. Intercepting one of these glances, Elorin knew that his habitual
watchfulness had returned.

  The advent of dawn
awoke the seabirds nesting on the cliffs. As the first grey glimmers lightened
the sky, adult birds began to sally forth from their white-crusted ledges in
search of food for their young. The black precipices were festooned with nests
occupying every nook and cranny, utilising even the most improbable ledges.
Gulls, kittiwakes, fulmars and guillemots sent up the most deafening din.

 The sea was as grey and
luminescent as a moonpearl. Phantoms of mist drifted across its nacreous
surface. The cliffs smelt damp and salty and the hard sand was unmarked by any
footprints other than their own. Just as Pelgar had described, a rock ledge
jutted out from the foot of the cliff, sometimes broad and rising well above
the deep water, and at others narrow and washed by the occasional wave bigger
than its fellows. The dark rocks were much riven and cracked. Deep crevasses
filled with golden fronds of seaweed, lay in wait for the unwary. But fortune
for once favoured the travellers and the weather was calm. The sea was too
relaxed to sweep across the shelf and merely contented itself with gently
playing with the seaweed, swirling it in its clear waters.

 Without waiting to
consult the others, Celedorn climbed onto the ledge and leaping nimbly across
the rocks, soon reached the point of the headland and disappeared from view. He
returned almost immediately and signalled the others to follow him.