The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (3 page)

 Relisar was triumphant. “You see? She can read the
old language. Poorly dressed but educated. I make my point.”

 “There is another contradiction,” the Prince added.
“She has neither the looks nor the build of the Marsh People. They are short
and sturdy but she is tall and slightly built. They have swarthy complexions
and black eyes, but she is fair skinned and blue eyed.”

 Elorin interrupted him, a little tired of being
talked about as if she were not there. “I think it’s time you explained how I
got here. What were you doing out there in the forest?  You mentioned a
summoning spell. Who is this Champion you were trying to summon?”

  Andarion sighed and pushing some books aside, sat
down on the edge of a table. “Two years ago, the Turog began encroaching on our
borders from those deserted wastes they call home. They began to appear in such
numbers that Eskendria was hard-pushed to resist them. Always, no matter how
often we defeated them, there seemed to be more of them, driven along
relentlessly by the will of the Destroyer. About six months ago we won a
decisive victory over them to the north of our border, driving them back beyond
the River Harnor  - although at heavy cost to ourselves. Nonetheless, we
felt that perhaps their offensive had come to an end.”

 He lifted his head and she read the despair in his
eyes. “But no, we were wrong, they have started to push southwards through the
Forsaken Lands and are fast approaching our borders. Our traditional allies
from Serendar on the coast, refuse to come to our aid. We can only guess that
the Turog have offered them immunity from attack. Or perhaps they were offered
nothing. Perhaps they are just afraid. At any rate, not only do we have no
allies to help but we are beset on all sides,  for that blackguard,
Celedorn, has used the opportunity for some privateering on his own account. He
has harried and harassed our lines of communications, raiding and pillaging
anything that comes within range of his mountain stronghold. The only thing
that can be said for him is that he also attacks the Turog if they are foolish
enough to come within his reach.”

 “Who is he?”

 “No one really knows. He came out of the forest with
his brigands about ten years ago and took over the old castle of Ravenshold. He
kills without mercy, even when the very existence of his own kind may be at
stake.”

 “His own kind?”

 The Prince stared at her in astonishment. “Yes. Us.
Mankind. Do you not remember what the Turog are?”

 She shook her head. “The name strikes fear and
loathing into me but I can’t remember why.”

 Relisar, who had been quietly listening, leaned
forward and lifted the heavy leather book he had been clutching all day. 
“Let me read you the relevant passage from the Book of Light.” He thumbed
through the pages. “Ah, yes, here it is.”

    ‘.....
and the Destroyer, the
Terrible one, was consumed with envy when he saw the handiwork of Yervenar, he
who is the Creator, and rage took hold of him more powerful than any anger seen
since first light and he smote the ground in his wrath and it split open in a
great ravine, a fissure so deep that it penetrated to the glowing heart of the
earth. Then he took thought as to how he could destroy the first fruits of
creation and twist that which was beautiful and pure to his own evil ends. He
lured two of the children, the innocent,  first- born, to a great cavern
in the ravine and for many dark years they were seen no more. At the end of the
first age, evil twisted forms began to emerge from the caverns and spread
across the land. Foul mockery of the children of light. Bent and bow legged,
powerful with demonic strength, dark of visage with slanted eyes, teeth and
claws of animals, the Turog began to multiply’.”

 “I remember now,” Elorin interrupted and continued
his quotation.  
‘.......and enmity was between them and the
descendants of the children. And there shall be no rest amongst the dark
multitude until the Creator’s handiwork is wiped from the face of the earth and
they are no more’.”
 She halted, pleased that she had remembered
something. “But who is this Champion you refer to?”

 Relisar thumbed through the Book. “Later on, it says
that in the time of greatest darkness, when the children are sore beset, a
champion will come - one who has the power to defeat the enemy and turn back
the evil tide. He will come unexpectedly, but he must be bidden to come before
he will appear. It then goes on to give the summoning spell I used this afternoon.”
He looked at the Prince apologetically. “I followed it exactly, you know. I
realise that you are more polite than your brother and would never call me an
incompetent old fool to my face but I sense that is exactly what you are
thinking.”

The Prince had the grace to look a little shamefaced but
Relisar had not finished. “Believe me, the spell was performed correctly, this
was not what we expected but it was meant to happen.”

 Andarion looked reflectively at the girl. “Do you
think she is the one?”

 “No, the Book specifically refers to a man, a great
warrior.”

 “Then I’m afraid, my friend, that an error has
somehow occurred.”

 When the Prince had gone, Relisar turned to Elorin.
“He will not tell King Tharin of this, you know, but his brother will. I taught
Andarion when he was a little child and he still bears some affection for me,
but it is otherwise with his brother. The King’s anger can be daunting. Even I,
old as I am, fear it, but more than his anger I fear his despair if the tide of
this war does not turn in our favour.”

 He stood abstractedly staring into space for a
moment, as if he had forgotten her presence. Sensing that he could stand thus
almost indefinitely, she recalled him to the immediate by clearing her throat.

 “Ah yes, where were we? A room, yes, you will need a
room. I think there is a guest room further up the tower,” he remarked, looking
by no means certain about it. “Follow me. It’s up another flight of stairs. You
don’t mind stairs do you?”

 She looked amused. “No, not in the least.”

 “Ah, it’s wonderful to be young. I mind them more
and more each year. I would bring my bed down to my study but I suspect I would
only lose it.”

 As he led her to a little door at the head of the
staircase, a thought seemed to strike him.  “You don’t mind sharing with
Skah, do you?”

 “Skah?”

 “My owl. Well he’s not mine really, he just chooses
to live with me. He likes this room because I leave the window open for him. He
sleeps most of the day but he will be out hunting all night.”

 He pushed open the door and led her into a tiny,
round-walled room. A bed with a dusty blue counterpane stood to one side. A
dressing-table with a spotted mirror stood beside it, and near the open window,
an easy chair was littered with tiny, dry bones. The ivy, taking advantage of
the open window, had clambered in and was sending sensitive tendrils across the
ceiling.

 Relisar, conscious of his duties as host, scooped up
the bones and threw them out of the window.

 “Mice bones,” he explained. “Skah is a wonderful
hunter but not a very tidy eater. He appears to be out at the moment but no
doubt he’ll turn up later. Just remember not to shut the window. Well, I’ll
leave you to settle in. Just come down when you’re hungry.”

 “You have a kitchen here?”

 “Dear me, no. They send something over from the
palace for me. The last time I made myself a sandwich, I put antimony in it by
mistake - with rather startling results. So they don’t trust me to make
anything for myself.”

 When he had left, Elorin sat down on the dusty bed,
her smile fading. Depression descended on her as gently and inevitably as the
dust now settling on the room. There were so many questions unanswered, so many
uncertainties, issues on too large a scale for the human mind to cope with. But
revolving around all the questions, was the fear that she would never remember
who she was. She would be left with a permanent, empty, blank feeling. What if
she had no past? What if she had no existence before she appeared on the forest
floor? No one had any answers, least of all herself. She might spend the rest
of her life as one of Relisar’s mistakes.

 She lay back, ignoring the little puff of dust that
exploded from the pillow. “We are our past, the sum of our history, our
experiences,” she remarked to the empty room. “That makes me
nothing.”       

   
Elorin had not come down when
she was hungry as Relisar had suggested, but instead had sunk into a deep sleep
that had only ended when the morning sun, peeping in at the little window, had
touched her face. The first thing her eye fell on was a magnificent barn owl
perched on the back of the chair by the window. His talons were dug into the
fabric and a dead mouse lay on the seat. He had been staring out of the window,
but as if aware that he was being observed, his head revolved through 180
degrees and she found herself staring into large, unblinking amber eyes.

 “You must be Skah,” she remarked. “I see you brought
me a present.”

 Skah did not respond but continued regarding her
with such intelligence in his huge eyes that she was half convinced that he
understood every word.

 Clearly someone had been in the room while she slept
because the dust had been removed from the dressing-table and on it sat a white
china jug of water, a bowl and a comb.

  Having availed herself of their services, she
descended to Relisar’s study. He was there amongst the chaos as usual,
muttering and fussing over a phial of clear green liquid which was bubbling
over a lighted candle. His breakfast lay untouched on a tray beside him.

 “Ah! There you are!” he exclaimed. “Slept well I
trust? All refreshed now?”

 She couldn’t resist a smile “Yes, I slept very well
and thank you for the things you left on the dressing table.”

 “Oh, that wasn’t me, that was Keesha, the spirit of
the tower. She has taken quite a fancy to you. Gave me quite a ticking off for
not preparing your room for you. I think she and Skah have decided to adopt
you. Skah was asking me if you would care for a freshly-caught mouse.”

 Elorin was staring at him as if he had taken leave
of his senses but he appeared not to notice.

 “Have some breakfast,” he beamed, pointing to his
abandoned tray. But as he watched her eat, his sunny mood appeared to
evaporate.

 “You are feeling strong?  I mean, feeling well?
No ill-effects from your sudden appearance?”

 She shook her head, her mouth full of toast.

 “Good, good. I’m afraid we have been summoned. The
King wants me to account for.....for yesterday’s incident. He’s bound to be
angry, furious in fact. It does so confuse me when people shout. Still, he
won’t shout at you. It wasn’t your fault after all.”

 She looked down at her shabby clothes, made even
worse by the fact that she had slept in them.

 “I can’t go to see a king dressed like this!” she
protested.

 “Nonsense, you look charming!” said Relisar, who
looked scarcely less disreputable himself. Elorin noticed that some of the
green liquid had found its way onto the sleeve of his gown. By way of sprucing
himself up, he wiped his hands on his beard.

 “Have you had enough to eat? All finished?” She
noticed that he appeared to talk in questions when he was nervous “Then I think
we had better go. We don’t want to incur further wrath by being late.”

 Relisar led the way across the paved courtyard she
had seen the day before and through an ivy-covered arch set in the opposite
wall. The square was deserted and as they passed beneath the arch, Elorin
jumped as the silence was shattered by a flock of doves exploding out of the
ivy and flying away, their wings whistling. The archway led to a formal sunken
garden of tiny clipped hedges and straight paths intersected by neat lawns in
geometric shapes. The garden lay basking in the mellow autumn sunshine. Not a
soul was in sight.

 “Where is everyone?” Elorin asked.

 “Oh, there are usually plenty of people around, but
mostly at the main entrance on the other side. We are coming in from the back,
where it’s quieter. Indeed, in the courtyard where my tower stands, I am the
only occupant. All the other buildings are empty now, only used for storage. In
the old king’s day, the present king’s father, you understand, every room was
occupied, every hall crowded, but the war has taken a heavy toll on this once
fine nation.”

  As he spoke, they approached a broad flight of
steps which led to a colonnaded terrace. The elegant pillars were rose-draped,
a shaggy profusion of pink and white flowers in such numbers that the back of
the terrace was rendered quite dim. Relisar ducked under the flowers and led
the way to a heavy door, flanked by two guards in the royal livery. They stood
motionless, spears held stiffly before them, as if carved out of the same stone
as the two crouching lions at the head of the steps. They did not acknowledge
the presence of the old man and his companion, but neither did they try to
prevent them entering the hall beyond.

 Elorin gasped when she saw the hall, for it was the
throne room, the centre of power in Eskendria. A double line of tall pillars,
fashioned of rose-coloured stone, sprang from the floor to such dizzying
heights that the ornate ceiling could only be dimly perceived. Each pillar was
garlanded in swathes of flowers carved in the same rose stone. The floor on
which they stood was of some golden wood, polished until its surface reflected
the light like a mirror, sending gilded glimmers up the pillars towards the
ceiling. At the head of the room, on a raised dais of stone, sat a mighty
chair. Its tall back was carved with a pointed crown that was emblazoned with
gold and gems. Draped artistically across the throne was a swathe of crimson
velvet embroidered with golden flowers, and high above it was a canopy, black
as ink, dotted with silver crowns and stars.

 Elorin stood transfixed, attempting to take all this
in at once.

 “It’s so beautiful,” she breathed. “What kind of
flowers are these?” she asked, examining the pillars. “I noticed them before on
the Eskendrian flag.”

 “They are chalcoria - chalice flowers. The flowers
of the legend.”

 Elorin was about to demand an explanation when she
noticed that he was preoccupied, uneasy at the thought of his coming interview
with the king.

 “That door on the far side, leads to the council
chamber of the barons, but it is only used once a year - unless the King
summons a council of war,” he explained. She took a step towards the door but
he caught her arm.

 “No, no, this way,” he corrected her, and crossed
the hall to a smaller door partly concealed behind some hangings.

 This time, the room they entered was occupied. The
sun slanted in softly through the latticed windows, touching the blue curtains
and rich, polished furniture with its gentle light, dimming by contrast the
fire burning within the confines of its ornate fireplace. But this time
Elorin’s attention was not on the rich decor, but on the group of four people
in the room. Seated in a chair by the fire was a man in his sixties. His hair
and neatly trimmed beard were fair but with a hint of silver. His frame,
however, was lean and fit. A circlet of gold and clothes of royal crimson
proclaimed his station. His face was hawk-like, high cheekboned, beak-nosed,
with eyes of piercing blue. Behind his chair stood Prince Andarion and his
brother, and to one side, seated on a stool by her father’s knee, was the most
beautiful girl Elorin had ever seen. She was dressed in a flowing robe of
emerald green which set off to perfection her red-gold hair. The bright, curling
mass tumbled unrestrained over her shoulders, putting the autumn sunshine to
shame with its glory. Clear green eyes, fringed with long black lashes, watched
Relisar’s arrival. Her hand resting negligently on the arm of her father’s
chair, spoke clearly of a position in his affections more privileged than
either of her brothers. 

 The King looked at the two before him, his glance
travelling up and down them in a displeased manner.

 “Well Relisar? Another debacle, I hear. Explain
yourself.”

 “Sire,” Relisar began, clearly flustered, “I
followed the incantation exactly from the Book of Light. I knew only too well
the importance of what I was doing and read the spell beforehand so many times
that I knew it off by heart. Everything was right. The stone circle, the
season, the time of day. All the portents were favourable. I cannot understand
what went wrong. But perhaps all is not lost, for a voice spoke to me. I felt
its power. It said that every door requires a key.”

 Without taking his eyes off Relisar, the King said
to Andarion. “Did you hear this voice?”

 Looking a little guilty, as if he was betraying the
old Sage, Andarion replied: “No. All I heard was distant thunder.”

 The King’s eyes grew colder still, but suddenly
Elorin, who until then had been a mere bystander, found herself caught in their
gaze.

 “So this is what you produced, Relisar,” he observed
coldly. “Not exactly the Champion we were expecting.”

 Prince Andarion intervened protectively. “It was not
her fault, father.”

 A slight look of displeasure crossed the King’s
features. “I did not say it was her fault. Nevertheless, we have no Champion,
no help against the Turog. What use is this girl?”

 “None,” replied Sarrick before his brother could
answer.  “She is just the latest debacle in a long line. Just another
example of Relisar’s failing powers. She is no use whatsoever to us in our
struggle with the tide of evil. Why, she can’t even remember her own name!”

 “Is this true?” the King asked Elorin.

 “Yes, Sire” she replied sadly. “I can remember
nothing about myself before I awoke in the stone circle. I cannot remember
where I came from, or what my home was like. I can remember nothing about my
family. As Prince Sarrick says, I do not even know my own name. It was Prince
Andarion who gave me my present name.”

 “So you do not know if you were sent to us for a
purpose?”

 “No. I greatly wish that I could be of some help to
you, but I know of nothing that could assist you.”

 Relisar, who had been fidgeting during the
conversation, could contain himself no longer.

“But there
is
a purpose, Sire,” he burst out. “I’m
sure of it. Just before she appeared, the voice said that every door requires a
key. She must be the key.”

 “The key to what?” Sarrick demanded contemptuously.

 “I suspect that it is the key to the door of
knowledge. The knowledge needed to summon the Champion.”

 The Prince was sceptical. “You are clutching at
straws, Relisar. What knowledge? What door? We don’t need knowledge, we need
Erren-dar, the Wielder of the Sword of Flame, and if he comes with an army at
his back, so much the better.”

 “Is there any reference to a key in the Book of
Light?” Andarion asked, uncomfortable with his brother’s patently scathing
attitude to the old man.

 “No. I spent last night going through it and could
find nothing. The only reference I could find was in the Lays of Tissro the
Wanderer. If you recall, when he approached the city on the hill, he was
greeted by an old man who told him the gates were shut. When Tissro asked how
he could get in, the old man told him that to every destination there leads a
path, to every path a door and to every door there is a key.”

 “But Tissro thought that the key was purpose, not
knowledge. He could not get into the city because he lacked purpose.”

 “True, but the two are not so very far apart.
Purpose is the beginning of any task and knowledge is the beginning of
understanding.”

 “What knowledge has she brought us?” the King asked.
“What words of wisdom can she give us? She cannot remember her name. Where is
this knowledge you speak of?”

 Relisar hung his head, clearly deflated. “I don’t
know,” he muttered. “I don’t know.”

 Elorin, who had remained remote from this
discussion, observing each speaker in turn, had noticed that one voice was
conspicuous by its absence. One voice had remained silent. The Princess watched
all that went on intently, but kept her own counsel. Briefly her glance met
Elorin’s but her eyes were as inscrutable as a cat’s. The discussion raged
around them, but Illiana sat in a self-contained pool of silence like sunlight
in a forest glade. Detached, remote, yet observant.

 Finally the discussion ground to a halt, mainly
through lack of information to go on. Silence descended on the apartment broken
only by the pleasant crackle of the fire.

 After a moment Relisar said: “I’m sorry you were
disappointed, Sire. I know the situation is such that any help would have been
welcome. I know that you think me a bungling fool but I tried my best. Perhaps
the time is not yet right for the fulfilment of the prophesy, or perhaps we are
going about it the wrong way. The incantation may be only part of a more
complex process to obtain our goal. All I can tell you, by way of consolation,
is that Elorin’s appearance was not by chance. She has some role to play.”

 The King looked up, a tired smile on his face.
“Thank you, Relisar. I suppose in truth we are no worse off than we were
before, but the situation does not improve with each month that passes. Now it
appears that it is more desperate than we knew. My son,” he said, indicating
Sarrick, “led a party of men to our northern border at the River Harnor. The
news he has brought back makes it even more imperative to obtain help. The
Turog are massing in huge number in the forest beyond the river. Their
camp-fires stud the forest by night. By day, the forest rings with the forging
of weapons and the sound of their axes felling trees. It is only a matter of
time before they sweep across the Harnor into Eskendria. We are vastly
outnumbered and our allies desert us. Moreover, many of our men are tied down
in the mountains to the west, trying to keep that blackguard Celedorn from
harassing the trade routes to the coast. We cannot fight on two fronts at once.
In fact, I intend to send Andarion with a large force to put an end to that
brigand once and for all.”