The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (19 page)

 The King laughed. “If I
catch him, I will hang him, but one must give the devil his due. Go to
Kelendore and persuade them to join you and I promise to consider your
proposals in a favourable light.”

 The Prince inclined his
head. “Would you care to alter that to a firm promise to join the alliance if I
can persuade Kelendore?”

 The King smiled and
shook his head. “Circumstances can change, young man, I will not commit myself
until I am certain. That is something you will learn when you are king.
Besides, if I am not mistaken, it was your intention to go to Kelendore anyway.
Her navy is too great an asset to be ignored.”

 “The Lord Protector may
enter the same caveat as you have done.”

 “Tell him that I view
your proposal favourably, indeed, I will emphasise the fact that your mission
has my blessing by sending you in our fastest warship. Allow me to place it at
your disposal. There has been a rather...er....frank exchange of views today
but I wish to assure you of our continued regard for Eskendria. Accept this
small gesture of goodwill.”

 The Prince appeared to
consider the matter, but in truth, he had already determined to travel to
Kelendore and his prevarication was more for the sake of appearances.

 “Very well. I accept
your offer.”

 When the Prince and
Relisar returned to their apartments, Relisar remarked: “King Orovin seems very
keen to get rid of us.”

 “I am aware of that. “

 “Goradis is behind
this, I am sure of it.”

 “Behind what exactly?
What is going on, Relisar?”

 “I don’t know,” the old
Sage fretted, “The King has made no commitment. This is all too vague to be
reassuring, but as it was part of our plan to travel to Kelendore, I see no
reason not to do it. At least we won’t have to travel in one of those horrible
little merchant ships. It would make one seasick just to think about it.”

 The Prince smiled
perfunctorily, his mind still on serious issues. “We cannot return to Eskendria
empty-handed. We must succeed, Relisar, we simply must.”

    For three
days Celedorn and Elorin travelled northwards before reaching the edge of the
forest. During that time they had several near brushes with the Turog but
Celedorn’s watchfulness and woodcraft outmatched his enemies and kept them
safe. Elorin unconsciously grew to depend on his skill to keep them from harm
and softened her hostile attitude towards him a little. She was particularly
glad of his company at night, for unexpectedly her sense of being watched had
not abated. The feeling was nebulous during the hours of daylight but once
darkness closed in, the impression became more acute. Twice during the night
she awoke with a start, convinced that something had touched her, but her eyes,
frantically searching the darkness, found nothing but trees and the reassuring
form of her companion. She had edged closer to him in the darkness, unaware
that he too was awake, that he too was uneasy.

 Consequently they were
both relieved when the trees began to thin and then stopped abruptly, as if
ruled by a line, at the top of a slope. Below them stretched the Meadowlands,
undulating plains clothed in tall, gently billowing fronds of grass. The wind,
unshackled by the trees, mischievously swept across the plain, setting the
grasses waving and glittering in the sun. Celedorn shaded his eyes from the
harsh light and directed his gaze northwards across the sea of grass. In the
distance a dark line marked the edge of the Wood of Uldor. He pointed it out to
Elorin.

 “Once we are down
amongst the grasses without the vantage-point of this hill, we won’t be able to
see the wood, so it is best that we take our bearings now.”

 Elorin looked over her
shoulder at the dark, silent trees behind them. “I’ll be glad to leave this
forest. It watches us. It’s strange to think that in the days of the Old
Kingdom all this,” she indicated the plain by sweeping her hand towards it,
“was fields of wheat; acres and acres of golden corn. The sense of space and
openness is so liberating after the constriction of the forest.”

 “Perhaps, but it does
not give us cover from the Turog. Out on that plain, anyone standing on a
vantage-point such as this could see us easily. There is no cover, nowhere to
hide. I think it best that we cross it with all possible speed.” He lifted his
face to the clear sky. “There should be a moon tonight, so I think we should
keep travelling by night.”

 As they wended their
way down to the plain, an amusing thought crossed Elorin’s mind and she could
not restrain a chuckle.

 He looked over his
shoulder, raising an enquiring eyebrow.

 “It has just occurred
to me that we should be celebrating a momentous occasion today,” she informed
him gravely.

 “Oh?”

 “Indeed. Do you realise
that we have spent three entire days in each other’s company without falling
out?”

 A muscle twitched at
the corner of his mouth. “It must be the soothing influence of my good nature,”
he remarked provocatively and was rewarded with a hoot of laughter in response.

 “I feel as if a weight
has been lifted from me since leaving that forest,” she said, drawing level
with him. “The only drawback is that in the full light of day, I can see that
we look a disreputable pair. I’d give anything for a bath and clean clothes -
and your shirt is badly torn. How did you do that?”

 “I got caught in the
brambles by the Harnor.”

 “Me too,” she said,
showing him her torn sleeve. “I haven’t even needle and thread to mend it
with.”

 “What I would like most
is a razor,” he said, rasping his hand over his chin. “This beard itches like
the devil.”

 “You had a beard when I
first met you,” she observed.

 He shrugged. “I think
you know the reason for that, but you were kind enough to point out that it
didn’t work.”

 She was silent for a
moment, conscious of his acute sensitivity about his disfigurement, unsure
whether to let the matter drop.

 Finally, a little
tentatively, she ventured: “I.....I didn’t mean to be hurtful. If I was, I’m
sorry.”

 He looked at her in
surprise, opened his mouth to say something, then appeared to change his mind
and looked away.

 “I think I hear water,”
he remarked, brusquely changing the subject, unaware how much he had revealed
to her by so doing.

 They had to locate the
stream by its sound, as the tall grasses completely hid it from view. In the
end Elorin almost fell into it, so unexpectedly did it appear. A spring bubbled
up from beneath a large rock, its crystal waters almost immediately
disappearing into a tangle of watercress and kingcups. Celedorn immediately
helped himself to a mouthful of the rather peppery watercress.

 “I’ve got a bit tired
of oatcakes,” he explained.

 To Elorin’s amusement,
the Brigand of the Passes, the Terror of the Turog and the Scourge of the
Westrin Mountains pulled off his boots, rolled up his trousers and sitting down
amongst the watercress, plunged his feet into the cool water with commendable
panache.

  He looked up grinning,
quite aware of what she was thinking. She sat down beside him and followed
suit.

 “You’re different away
from Ravenshold,” she remarked, trailing her feet gently through the water.
“Back then, if anyone had told me we would be sitting here side by side
paddling our feet in a stream I’d have thought he was mad.”

 But for once he didn’t
smile in response, instead his gaze became distant. After a long pause he said
softly but implacably: “Be under no illusions, Elorin, I am every bit as black
as rumour would paint me.”

 They journeyed without
break across the unrelenting plain for the rest of that day. The sun reached
its zenith, uncompromisingly picking out the two dark figures threading their
way across the rolling sea of grass. By the time dusk was falling, the dark
line of the Wood of Uldor seemed very little closer. They stopped briefly for a
strange meal of oatcakes and watercress, but Celedorn would not allow a longer
halt as he was anxious to obtain the cover of the trees as soon as possible.
The openness of the plain made him feel vulnerable. He knew that in such bare
surroundings, if they were spotted by the Turog they had very little chance of
surviving the encounter. Their luck had held during daylight but he did not
intend to strain their good fortune by spending another day in the open. To
Elorin’s chagrin, he soon rose to his feet.

 As the moon began to
rise, replacing it fiery cousin with its cool, serene presence, Celedorn
quickened his pace, wading with determination through waist-high grasses
rendered diaphanous and ghostly by the pale light. A little after midnight he
became aware that Elorin was flagging. He set down the basket he had been
carrying for her and waited for her to catch up.

 “Are you tired?” he
asked, realising the moment the words were out of his mouth that she would deny
it.

 “No, I can manage.”

 “Well, I am,” he declared
mendaciously. “We’ll rest for a while but we must get going again shortly.
Look, the wood is much closer now. I think we might be able to make it before
sunrise. Once we are within the shelter of the wood we can find somewhere
secluded enough to snatch a few hours sleep.”

 She sat down suddenly.
“It’s a pity that we have nothing to carry water in,” she complained. “I’m
parched and there are no streams here.”

 Celedorn, who was also
thirsty, listened intently. “No, I hear nothing. Your friend Kerrea said that
there were many streams on the way, did she not? We must hope her information
was correct.”

 He had been standing
looking back the way they had come, able to faintly make out in the moonlight
the dark mass of the Great Forest brooding on the hill now some distance behind
them. Suddenly he stiffened. A light, rendered tiny by the distance of the
intervening plain, appeared at the edge of the forest. Then another and another
appeared until about a dozen could be seen. He watched them intensely for a while,
then looked down at Elorin. She was fast asleep at his feet, curled up with her
cheek resting on her hand.

 He bent and gently
shook her shoulder. “Elorin, wake up.” She opened her eyes sleepily. “We must
be on the move again. We cannot rest here. I have just seen Turog watch fires
at the edge of the Great Forest. I am not sure whether they are travelling in
this direction or not, but we dare not take the chance. We must gain the cover
of the wood before daybreak.”

 She groaned and rubbed
her eyes wearily. “I was dreaming that something was following us. Something
black. I thought it couldn’t cross the plain but it only waited until the sun
went down and now it travels under cover of darkness.” She shivered a little.

 “It was just a bad
dream,” said Celedorn reassuringly. “Besides, Kerrea said that it was me who
was following you.”

 She shook her head.
“No, she didn’t. I just assumed it was you but I’m beginning to think that
perhaps I was wrong.”

 “I don’t know about
that, but the Turog will most certainly pursue us if they see us. We must not
be caught in the open. If it comes to a chase or a fight we will stand a better
chance amongst the trees.”

 She got wearily to her
feet and they resumed their course. Celedorn was more wary than ever, stopping
frequently to listen, every sense sharpened and alert. Elorin dragged along
behind him, determined to keep up, but beginning to flag as the hours passed.

 Celedorn glanced at her
in concern, but realising that sympathy would be wasted, he tried another tack.
He drew his brows together in the semblance of annoyance.

 “I wish you’d try to
keep up,” he snapped. “Pull yourself together and stop feeling sorry for
yourself.”

 Anger instantly flared
in response. “I’m doing my best,” she replied acidly.

 His old mocking sneer
swiftly reappeared. “If that is your best, heaven help us. We might reach the
wood before one of us dies from old age.”

 Her eyes darting fire
at him, she picked up her pace and strode past him. “Well? Are you coming?” she
flung over her shoulder at him. “Or do I have to carry you?”

 Grinning secretly to
himself he followed her, knowing well that she was genuinely tired and that her
flash of temper would not keep her going much farther.

 However, just as the
sky began to lighten and the first tentative notes of bird song began to take
to the air, they crested a slight rise to find the wood closer than they had
dared hope. The sight of  it buoyed them up to make the last effort to
reach its eaves before the light grew strong.

 Celedorn glanced back
across the dimly lit plain and for a moment thought he saw something moving. He
halted abruptly. Elorin, in single-minded determination to reach the wood, did
not notice that he had stopped. He concentrated his gaze, trying to penetrate
the tendrils of ground-mist that obscured the plain. Something that was darker
than the mist, that looked like a small, black cloud, appeared to be travelling
swiftly across the grassland. It travelled close to the ground, heading
northwards. He blinked in astonishment and rubbed the tiredness from his eyes,
but when he looked again, it was gone. Common sense put it down to the mist and
the grey early morning light playing tricks with his eyes. But some niggling
instinct deep within him was not entirely able to dismiss it. However, as he
had not the smallest idea what it might be, he was forced to banish it from his
mind. He said nothing to Elorin of what he had seen when he rejoined her. She
was unaware that he had lagged behind and passed no comment as his long stride caught
up with her just in time to enter the wood. With a great sense of achievement,
she took half a dozen steps into the wood, then sat down abruptly on a log.
Just before he too entered the trees, Celedorn looked back, but the plain, now
bathed in the rosy light of dawn, was innocent of movement.