The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (32 page)

 “What is this?”
whispered Elorin.

 Some strange trick of
the acoustics took up her words and echoed them around the stone walls in a
snake-like hiss.

 
What is this? What
is this? ...is this?

 When the echoes
subsided, Relisar replied: “It is a legend that turns out to be true.” He
pointed to the woman at the head of the table. “This, if I mistake it not, is
Queen Sariel, the wife of Mendorl, tenth king of the second dynasty. He built
this palace for her, so besotted was he, but her subjects called her the witch
queen, for she came of the northern clan of Parth whose lands bordered the
frozen wastes of the Destroyer. These dragons on the walls are the symbol of the
clan. Powerful, they were, but dark and wayward, their loyalty to the crown
always suspect. The clan of Parth did not send those with the gifts of the
spirit to be trained by the masters of the three Orders, but trained them
themselves in secret, in arts older than time and best forgotten. Sariel had
much dark power and could bend many things to her will, but she was no traitor
and loved her husband. She tried, in her folly, to protect his kingdom using
the ancient arts she had learned. In arrogance she pitted her will against the
Destroyer. But her powers did not come from the Father of Light and were too
close to those employed by the Master of Darkness himself to succeed against
him. Ultimately they destroyed her.

 When the creatures of
evil stirred in the north and began to move against the kingdom, Sariel called
forth a wall of glass along the border, tall and broad, strong and unbreakable.
The Turog could not breach it. But she deluded herself, for the Destroyer was
stronger than she, and no sooner was the wall complete, than he exerted the
power of his mind against it. Great cracks began to appear, shooting and
splitting in all direction. Piece by piece huge shards of glass exploded off
the wall.

 The Queen, knowing
nothing of this, invited her friends to the palace to celebrate her victory but
in the midst of the feasting, a shard of glass thrown southwards by  the
Master of Darkness, the Destroyer himself, burst through the star window and
became embedded in her hand. The wound hardened and before her eyes, her hand
began to turn to glass, slowly inch by inch it crept over her, changing,
enveloping and entombing her. The same fate befell everyone who sat with her at
the table that day, all those who celebrated her victory.”

 They all stared at the
statues, mesmerised by the story. Finally Elorin asked: “What happened to the
King?”

 “The King was not
present that day and was thus spared, but his house failed, for he died
childless and a new dynasty began. Kerrian-tohr was abandoned, never to be used
again.”

 At that moment a slight
movement at the door to a side chamber caught Celedorn’s eye. He signalled to
Relisar to keep on talking and unobtrusively slipped off behind some pillars.
Elorin fingered her bow nervously and kept casting sidelong glances in the
direction in which Celedorn had gone, unsure of what he had seen. Suddenly,
Celedorn sprang into view and grabbed something that had been hiding behind the
archway. There was the sound of a scuffle and a sharp cry of pain and he
dragged a small figure, dressed in grey breeches and a hooded jacket, into
view. He had the figure’s arm twisted up its back and as he dragged it forward,
it uttered another cry of agony.

 In the struggle, the
hood fell back, revealing curling, golden hair tumbled loose about a small,
frightened face.

 “It’s a girl!”
exclaimed Andarion in disbelief.

 
The girl began to struggle again but the only effect
it had on Celedorn was to cause him to tighten his grip.

 “Oh! You’re hurting
me!” she cried.

 The Prince stepped
forward. “Let her go!” he commanded.

 Celedorn’s eyes
narrowed at the tone and noticeably he did not obey.

 “We don’t know who she
is, or what she’s doing here,” he said coldly. “Do not be deceived by a pretty
face.”

 The girl gave another
cry of pain and tears began to roll down her face. The Prince, looking as black
as a thundercloud, reached for his sword, but in one lightning movement,
Celedorn changed his grip on the girl, grasping her with his left hand and drew
his sword with his right. The Prince, with his sword only half out of its
scabbard, was astonished to find the point of Celedorn’s blade before his face.

 “Do not give orders to
me, Princeling,” said Celedorn softly, but with a menacing edge to his voice. “I
take orders from no man, least of all you.”

 But Andarion was not
intimidated and folded his arms defiantly. “I thought our truce would not last
long, Brigand.”

 They stared tensely at
each other for a moment, before Elorin intervened. “I don’t think she’s
dangerous, Celedorn. I mean, she’s tiny, not even as tall as my shoulder and
she’s clearly terrified. Give her to me.”

 Celedorn released the
girl and with a final warning glance at the Prince, re-sheathed his sword.

 “Those two will come to
blows sooner or later,” muttered Relisar to no one in particular.

 Elorin led the girl
towards a fallen block of masonry and sat her down on it. She was indeed tiny
but daintily made, with a small waist and delicate features.

 “Don’t be frightened,”
Elorin said, smiling at her reassuringly. “We won’t hurt you. Just tell us who
you are and how you come to be here.”

 The girl had stopped
crying and was looking at Elorin uncertainly, gently rubbing her bruised arm.
Andarion crossed to them and sitting on his heels beside her, looked up with
his disarming smile. “Indeed, Elorin speaks truly. You have nothing to fear
from us.”

 A wavering smile was
his reward. “I......my name is Triana and I am the youngest daughter of the
Lord Protector of Kelendore. I was on my way to Serendar to formalise my
betrothal to King Orovin, when the storm struck my ship. I was washed up on the
beach below. As far as I know, I was the only survivor. I’ve been living here
for the past few days and in all that time I have not seen a solitary living
soul. I heard you arrive and hid in the side-chamber in case you were Turog.”
She looked nervously at Celedorn. “Until
he
dragged me out.” She halted
and stammered. “If I may ask, who are all of you?”

 When Andarion had
introduced everyone, she stared at him round-eyed with astonishment.

 “You are Prince
Andarion?” she asked incredulously. “You are the Crown Prince of Eskendria?”

 Andarion laughed,
unoffended. “I can understand why you find that hard to believe. I too was
washed up in the storm, but had the good fortune to reach Sirkris. However, all
the ships were destroyed and as Sirkris is now besieged by the Turog, the only
way to reach home is across the Forsaken Lands. That is how we come to be at
Kerrian-tohr.”

 “What is Kerrian-tohr,
Your Highness?”

 “The name of this place
- and please, formality is out of place here. I am merely ‘Andarion’ in these
lands, just a man trying to survive - as someone keeps reminding me.” He shot a
dagger glance at Celedorn, who merely grinned annoyingly.

 “How did you survive
all this time?” Relisar asked. “There is no food here.” He looked vaguely
around the dusty hall.

 “Many things from my
ship washed up on the beach, including one of my trunks, and more importantly,
a cask of raisins. I’ve been living on those and rainwater. You have no idea
how frightened I have been. This place is bad enough during the day, but at
night it is simply terrifying. Sometimes I think that those glass statues are
alive and are watching me. I haven’t dared to go near them until today.”

 “Obviously a lantern
washed up as well,” commented Celedorn, his mind on a different issue.

 “A lantern? No.”

 “A candle then?”

 “I have no means of
providing light. I have not even dared to light a fire.”

 Celedorn’s dark brows
drew together. “Come now, surely you carried a lantern along the battlements
just before dawn today.”

 She shook her head and
looked anxiously at Andarion for support.

 “Then what did we see?”
Celedorn asked.

 “I tell you this place
is haunted,” Triana said vehemently. “When night falls, I go into the small
side-chamber where you found me and hide under my blankets until morning. I
have heard groans and cracking sounds, laughter and glass breaking, all coming
from this room. If there had been any other shelter, I would not have stayed
here. If I had known where I was or where to go to get help, I would not have
remained here one single night.” She turned desperately to Andarion. “Wherever
you are going, you must take me with you. Even deep into the Forsaken Lands
sounds pleasant after this place.
Please
,” she begged, “I cannot stay
another night here.”

 Relisar looked at her
with pity. “We must take her with us,” he said to the Prince. Elorin nodded her
agreement but Celedorn exploded.

 “Why don’t you just
hire trumpeters and lead a procession, so that the Destroyer can find us more
easily! How many other waifs and strays are we going to gather up while we are
here? Every extra person increases the chance of discovery. I think that not
one of you has the slightest idea of what we are dealing with!”

 “Celedorn.......”
Elorin began, but he cut her short.

 “No!” He turned on his
heel and strode from the hall.

 She looked at Triana.
“Don’t worry,” she said kindly. “I’ll talk him round. The rest of you wait
here. Perhaps you should pack up your things, Triana, ready to leave. After all
you have told us, I would not spend the night here for anything.”

 When she had gone,
Triana looked towards the archway through which Celedorn had disappeared. “Why
did you call him ‘Brigand’ ?” she asked Andarion. “Surely he is not.....I
mean.....surely he couldn’t be.......”

 The Prince nodded. “I’m
afraid he is. I would not spend a moment in his company if we were not in the
direst circumstances. We have unfinished business, he and I, if ever we get to
Eskendria. Now, come and we will collect your belongings.”

 When they returned to
the main hall, Celedorn and Elorin were still missing. Relisar was seated on
the block of masonry, calmly reading a book. He looked up as they came back.

 “I think Elorin is
finding the task more difficult than she expected.” He waved the book at the
Prince. “How would you translate this word, Andarion?” he asked, pointing to
his page, as single-minded as always. Andarion sighed with resignation. While
they were immersed in the finer nuances of the old language, Triana, gaining
confidence from their presence, began to prowl around the hall, looking closely
at the glass figures. When she came to the Queen sitting at the head of the
table, her long hand held out in rebuff, she gingerly reached out and touched
one cold glass finger.

 Suddenly, with a
splintering, cracking sound, the glass hand snapped shut on her wrist. Triana
shrieked with fear and the two men whirled in her direction. What they saw
caused Relisar’s book to fall unheeded to the floor. She was desperately
struggling to escape the vicelike grasp, but her frantic efforts just resulted
in the glass fingers slowly tightening until her hand began to turn an alarming
purple. Her scream had also brought Celedorn and Elorin charging through the
archway. Before they could react, cracking and fracturing noises began to issue
the length of the stone table, as each seated figure slowly turned its cold,
glass head towards Triana. Her hand by this time felt as if it was going to
burst, as the icy fingers froze into her flesh. When the Queen’s head began to
turn towards her, Triana’s terror was so intense she almost fainted.

 Andarion, only a few
paces from her, recovered his wits and strode forward drawing his sword. The
blade gleamed as he raised it in the air and with all his strength, brought it
down on the transparent arm that held Triana prisoner. The blow contacted with
the glass with such force that it jolted him to the shoulder. For a moment he
thought that it had no effect, but a hairline crack began to appear and shot
through the glass wrist. The Queen turned her cold, empty gaze in his direction
and began to rise from her chair. Splinters of glass flew from her, as her robe
broke free of the stone, scattering with a tinkling sound to the floor. The
hairline fissure in her arm shot in a circle right round her wrist, and with a
crack like a rock splitting, it broke off, still clamped tight to Triana’s
wrist. Triana, suddenly released, fell backwards onto the floor and stared in disbelief
as the dismembered glass hand began to disintegrate before her eyes. Rapidly it
began to turn to sand, until only a small mound of white grains was left. A
trickle of sand was also flowing from the Queen’s severed wrist. Like something
unravelling, it gradually worked up her arm as the glass returned to its
natural state. All along the stone table the same thing was happening. Every
extremity was dissolving. Hair, fingers, feet, all losing form and shape.
Faster and faster the sands flowed off the clear figures, as if from an
hourglass running out of time. Millions of snow-white grains gathered on the
floor and the stone chairs, the piles growing as the figures diminished.

 Triana leaped to her
feet, frantically brushing the sand off her as if it was poisoned. “They’re
falling to dust!” she cried hysterically. “They’re falling to dust!”

 The others stood
staring transfixed, until nothing remained but desolate piles of white grains.
The Queen was the last to fully dissolve. As her head and face disintegrated,
her pointed crown fell onto the chair with a clatter and sat glistening coldly
on the heap of sand.

 “The crown stayed
intact,” Andarion said, scarcely above a whisper.

 “Her crown was always
made of glass,” Relisar replied. “It alone was not the work of the Destroyer.”
As Andarion leaned towards it in fascination, he added a warning: “Do not touch
it. Touch nothing in this accursed place. Come, we must leave before worse
befalls us. The evil here is not just of the Destroyer. She used the ancient arts
of the House of Parth, and this shows what comes of power that is not derived
from the Father of Light.” He looked around nervously. “We may have awoken here
even more than is evident.”

 Needing no further
persuasion, they hastily gathered up their belongings and left. Their departure
was so precipitate, that they never discovered whether Elorin had persuaded
Celedorn to allow Triana to come or not. Her presence was somehow just tacitly
accepted.

 When they stepped
through the great archway into the outside world again, the sea-mist still
swirled forlornly around the grey ruins. Following Pelgar’s directions, they
headed inland, up what appeared, as far as they could tell, to be a steep,
grassy valley.

 The Prince fell into
step beside Triana. “Does your hand still pain you?”

 She smiled. “No, it’s
fine now, although my arm is sore and bruised,” she replied, directing a dark
look at Celedorn’s back. “I’m just glad to have found human company again.”

 “King Orovin will be
worried about you,” Andarion suggested. “Is your betrothal of recent date? I
had not heard he was contemplating marriage.”

 “It was very sudden. I
have never met the King, but my father told me I must marry him to seal an
alliance between our two countries. I......I realise that it would be a great
thing to be queen of a county as rich and powerful as Serendar, but I had hoped
that when the time came, I might chose for myself.”

 “Surely your father
would not force you!”

 “No, but he spoke at
length of my responsibility to my country and that duty sometimes means
sacrificing one’s personal  wishes for the greater good. I love my father,
and do not wish to disappoint him. In any event, I didn’t have much time to
think things over, because I was packed off in the ship almost immediately the treaty
was signed.”

 The Prince’s eyes
narrowed suspiciously. “When was this?”

 She told him and a
quick mental calculation informed him that while King Orovin was suggesting
that Eskendria should persuade Kelendore to re-forge the old alliance, he had
already secured such an alliance for himself. The Prince, inwardly vowing
vengeance, realised he had been made a fool of.

 As they moved inland,
they left behind the sound of the sea, which had been their constant
accompaniment for so long now. They also gradually parted company with the mist
and their surroundings became more visible.