The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (48 page)

 “Relisar!”

 A pair of rather dazed
eyes opened. “Celedorn? My dear boy, am I dreaming?”

 No one had ever
addressed the Scourge of the Westrin Mountains in quite that manner before and
Celedorn grinned with a mixture of amusement and relief. “You’re not dreaming.
You didn’t think we’d leave you to your fate, did you?”

 “How did you find me?”
he asked, sitting up stiffly.

 “A long story, best
kept for another occasion. We must go. The others are waiting for us outside the
city walls.” He gripped the old man by the elbow and helped him to his feet.

 When they ascended the
stairs, Celedorn dragged the bodies of the two unconscious guards into the
cellar and locked the door. He knew that he could hardly expect Relisar to climb
down the creeper, but didn’t want to risk a noisy fracas with the guard at the
door, so he led the way back to the dining room and forced open the window.
Relisar nipped out with surprising agility and landed in a flower bed.

 “We must hurry,”
whispered Celedorn. “The two guards will soon be found and the alarm will be
raised, besides, we must return to the others an hour before midnight and that
gives us little time.”

 Together they crossed
the parkland, keeping well away from the palace within the cover of the trees.
When the gate leading to the city came in sight, Celedorn drew a sigh of
relief, but his emotion was premature.

 Just as they approached
the archway, someone they knew came through it. In the flaming light cast by
the bronze dragons, Captain Naldian could hardly fail to recognise them. He
stared in astonishment before drawing breath to raise the alarm. Celedorn
charged him and brought him down in a crashing fall, but the Captain was game
for a fight and lashed out vigorously. A confused and bitter struggle ensued,
wasting valuable time. Relisar stood dithering, wanting to help but unsure what
to do, until he heard Celedorn commanding him in thunderous accents to run. He
hitched up his grey gown and darted, like a rabbit pursued by a stoat, through
the gateway. A moment later Celedorn came flying after him looking wild and
dishevelled.

 “He got away from me,”
he panted. “He’ll be raising the alarm right now.”

 As if in confirmation
of his words, there came the sound of many running feet. A body of about a
dozen guards burst through the archway. A roar went up from them when they
spotted the fugitives.

 “Run!” shouted
Celedorn, pushing Relisar before him. They shot into the maze of narrow
side-streets that Celedorn was now thankful he had explored in such detail
earlier. They twisted and weaved along alleys and round corners, and twice they
doubled back on themselves, but their pursuers knew the streets as well as
Celedorn and could not be shaken from the scent. Relisar by this time was gasping
for breath and trembling in every limb. Celedorn pulled him backwards into a
deep doorway, just as the guards thundered past. “You can’t outrun them,” he
said rapidly. “In a moment they will realise what we have done and will be
back. Stay in this doorway while I draw them away from you. When all is clear,
make your way down this street to the city gate. A short distance beyond, there
is a copse to the left of the road. You will find the others there. Tell them
to leave one of the horses and proceed to the border immediately, to the place
where we came though the curtain. Is that clear? And don’t listen to any
nonsense from Andarion about not leaving me.”

 “Yes, but I don’t wish
to leave you, not after all you’ve risked for me.”

 “Relisar,” said
Celedorn gravely. “I stand a better chance alone. You know it is true.”

Reluctantly, the old Sage
nodded. The sound of boots clattering over the cobbles informed them that their
ruse had been discovered. Signalling to Relisar to stay put, Celedorn ran out
into the street. A cry like hounds picking up a scent greeted his appearance.

 Relisar, watching from
the darkness of the doorway, saw Celedorn dive down an alley on the opposite
side of the street, with the guards hard on his heels like an unpleasant fate.
When all was quiet, he slipped out into the broad avenue and made his way
unmolested to the gate. As was the custom, it was unguarded, but before he
vanished through it, he thought he heard the faint sounds of the chase echoing
down between the narrow confines of the houses.

 His greeting from the
others was all he could have wished, Triana even going so far as to fling her
arms around his neck, but Elorin immediately said: “Where is Celedorn?”

 “Our escape was
detected and he is now leading the King’s guards a merry dance through the
older parts of the city. He said to leave him a horse and ride to the border
immediately. He will meet us at the place where we escaped from the tunnels.”

 “No!” declared the
Prince stubbornly. “We are not going without him.”

 “He gave me very strict
instructions, my boy, and he is not the sort of person one disobeys. He has a
better chance of escape if he is not burdened with all of us - and besides, you
cannot just think of yourself, you must ensure Elorin’s and Triana’s safety.”

 At that moment, Triana,
who had been listening intently to their conversation, turned to address
Elorin, and found nothing but empty air behind her.

 “Where is Elorin?”

 “Damn!” said the Prince
grittily. “I know where she has gone. She has gone to help Celedorn.”

 “Oh no!” cried Relisar.
“How could she be so foolish?”

 “I must go after her! You
two go on to the border.”

 But Relisar caught his
sleeve. “You must not! There is only one person who can look after her now and
that is Celedorn. He knows those streets like the back of his hand, whereas you
and I would only get lost and ultimately caught, and this whole night would end
in disaster. No, we must do as Celedorn ordered. Leave two horses and we will
meet them at the border.” Seeing the Prince’s intractable look, he lowered his
voice. “Triana must not fall into the hands of the King. Think! Andarion. Your
sentiments do you credit but Celedorn would be the first to tell you that you
were behaving like a fool.”

  A reluctant smile was
drawn from Andarion. “Yes, indeed he would.” He glanced at Triana, anxiously
awaiting his decision. “We ride to the border,” he said decisively, but as they
mounted, she did not see him cast a look of apprehension back at the city.

 
Once through the gateway, Elorin halted and listened
intently. Distantly, echoing down the silent streets, came the sound of a
commotion. Following the sound, she entered an area of the old town that was a
rabbit warren of narrow streets and decrepit buildings. There were a few people
on the streets, all turning their heads in the direction of the fracas.
Thankfully, no one paid any heed to her.

 Rounding a corner, she
found herself at the head of a straight street that appeared to be a dead end.
The cobbled road ended in front of a tall, imposing building in the course of
being renovated. Halfway up the street, heading away from her and just a few
steps ahead of his pursuers, raced Celedorn. Elorin gasped and caught her hand
to her mouth in alarm as he reached the end of the street - but he didn’t stop.
Like lightning he leaped up the builder’s ladders and soon gained the roof of
the building under repair. With heart-stopping agility, he sprang from the edge
of the roof onto the gable of an adjoining building and disappeared over the
roofs towards the next street. Elorin turned abruptly on her heel and ran in
the same direction. She rounded the corner into the next street just in time to
see him land with catlike poise from a high wall.

 “Celedorn!”

 He whirled in
astonishment. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, not looking at all
pleased. “You should be at the border by now! Of all the.....” He broke off as
he saw a guard appear over the ridge tiles of the roof above them. “I’ll
reserve your telling-off for later,” he said, catching her hand. “Now is not
the time.”

 They ran to the end of
the street until they were out of sight of the guards, and on suddenly finding
themselves in a crowded thoroughfare, they dropped to an inconspicuous walk.
The street was lined with taverns, all doing a roaring trade. There was much
coming and going between them, as patrons, already a little the worse for wear,
sought the delights of a new establishment. The mostly male crowds were rowdy
but fairly affable. Some speculative glances were cast in Elorin’s direction,
unaware that she was still clasping Celedorn’s hand. When he intercepted such
glances, Celedorn scowled in such a forbidding way that speculation gave way
rapidly to apprehension.

 He had made to turn
left down the street, when suddenly he halted abruptly.

 “What is it?” Elorin
asked.

 “Look!” He indicated
the end of the street where a large party of guards had appeared. The fugitives
turned as of one mind in the opposite direction but the same thing happened at
the other end of the street. The haphazard chase appeared to have been
abandoned and the body of men now searching for them were doing so
methodically. The guards began to push their way through the crowds, grasping
men by the shoulder and turning them peremptorily to scan their faces.
Detachments were sent to search every inn.

 “Finally they have got
themselves organised,” Celedorn observed sourly. “Perfect timing.”

 As the searchers drew
closer, his eyes scanned the street for a way of escape. The busy inns supplied
him with an idea. “If we go into one of these taverns, we might find a back
door leading to an adjoining street.”

 Moving discreetly and
unhurriedly so as not to attract attention, they wended their way through the
crowds and entered a large tavern whose tiny windows were cosily aglow with
lamplight. The inn, too, was packed, the large taproom filled with the sound of
laughter and loud conversation. Barmaids dressed in swirling skirts of many
colours, with their waists nipped tightly in, wove deftly between the throng
carrying loaded trays of beer or wine. Celedorn began to make his way towards
the back of the room, towing Elorin behind him. A wooden door at the far end
was clearly his goal, but before they had even got half way through the intervening
crush, the door opened to admit several guards - effectively cutting off their
means of escape. They had begun to retreat, when the door from the street also
opened and an even larger detachment of guards entered and began to search the
busy inn.

 “Cornered,” growled
Celedorn.

 Elorin caught his arm
and a led him to a small table tucked away in a dark corner.

 “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 obviously 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.