The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (25 page)

 His relief was so
intense he almost gasped when he saw it. It was completely unmistakable. It was
perfectly circular and its gently rising dome was smooth and grassy, devoid of
trees. All around its circumference, without exception, its edges fell in sheer
perpendicular cliffs to the sea. Nature has fashioned an impregnable fortress -
which was fortunate, as it stood facing the tall cliffs of the Forsaken Lands,
so close that a fragile rope-bridge - not to be recommended to the fainthearted
- connected it to the mainland. It was the last outpost of humanity. A thorn in
the flesh of the Destroyer and consequently much harassed by the Turog. The end
of the rope-bridge on the mainland was protected by two mighty towers, heavily
guarded with unceasing vigilance. In times of great peril the ropes were cut,
isolating the island. A chasm lay between the two bodies of land, a dark,
narrow defile through which the sea perpetually churned and thundered. Though
narrow, it was so dangerous a stretch of water that it was known as the Devil’s
Dyke and was avoided by all who were not yet tired of life.

 Celedorn was too far
distant to see the rope-bridge but he knew it was there from a previous visit
long ago. He also knew that the light that showed the island with such clarity,
made it seem deceptively near and that it must be more than ten miles distant -
a daunting distance to two people who were cold, exhausted and starving. He carefully
surveyed the land in between and decided that the best course was to follow the
cliff-top by the sea. It was exposed and would make them vulnerable to being
detected by any Turog hardy enough to be out in such weather, but it would be
less exhausting than forcing their way amongst the trees further inland.

 When he returned,
Elorin was curled up fast asleep in the muddy hole. She was still soaking wet
and a long muddy streak was smeared across one pale cheek. Reluctantly he shook
her awake.

 “Where are we?” she
murmured.

 “I have good news,” he
replied bracingly. “I can see Sirkris from the top of the hill. If we walk
briskly we should be there by nightfall.”

 All he got in response
was a discouraging groan.

 “Come on,” he said,
hoisting her to her feet. “If you sleep there any longer you will never awaken.
Sirkris has many comfortable inns with soft beds, warm fires and good food.
Just keep that in mind and we’ll make it.”

 She made no reply but
began to plod along behind him, her head bowed. For the rest of that dreadful
day they travelled slowly southwards. They cleared the trees and turning
towards the sea, were soon climbing the majestic shoulders of the tall sea
cliffs. The gleam of sun Celedorn had seen earlier, was extinguished by a fresh
bank of clouds which brought more rain in their train. Finally, Elorin fell to
her knees shivering uncontrollably.

 “I c-can’t go on,” she
sobbed between chattering teeth. “I can’t. I’m h-holding you back. Go on
without me.”

 “No!” His refusal was
laconic but unequivocal.

 “I must rest. I must
sleep. I’m s-so very tired.”

 “Nonsense!” he said
harshly. “You have more strength than you know.” He caught her arm and tried to
drag her to her feet but she wouldn’t move.

 “Don’t you see?” she
pleaded. “It’s me. I’m the problem. This is a-all my fault. I bring nothing but
disaster and misfortune wherever I go. Twice you have nearly been drowned
because of me. I have been dogged by ill-luck ever since I appeared in that
stone circle. I wish with all my heart that Relisar had not meddled. I b-bring
destruction to everything I touch. Maybe the townspeople of Addania were right,
maybe I am cursed. Those fishermen died because of me. If I hadn’t lied to
them, forcing them to leave, they could have weathered the storm safe and sound
in Skerris-morl. It’s j-just no use anymore.”

 He knelt before her and
caught her shoulders in a vice-like grip, his expression fierce, his eyes hard.
“Now listen to me. I want to hear no more talk of defeat, no more feeling sorry
for yourself. You are going to get to your feet and walk to Sirkris and I want
to hear no more nonsense about being cursed. That’s just coward’s talk.”

 “Leave me” she moaned.

 He shook her until her
teeth clicked together. “If I have to, I’ll carry you all the way to Sirkris.
Do you hear me? So get to your feet and stop whining.”

 “What am I going back
for? I have no family, no home. I don’t even have a name!”

 Celedorn did not make
the mistake of trying to argue with her. “You’ll go back because I tell you
to,” he said acidly. “I don’t recall asking you what you wanted and if ever I
have the smallest desire to find out, I’ll let you know. At the moment you will
do as I tell you, and I’ll thank you to give me no more foolish arguments or
you will really find out what I am capable of.”

 A spark of anger flared
in her eyes. “My life is my own.”

 The old mocking sneer
came back to his face. “A quaint idea not shared by anyone who matters. You are
still my prisoner. Your life belongs to me.”

 This statement had all
the effect he could have desired. She rose to her feet her eyes blazing in her
white face.

 “How dare you! I am not
your prisoner and I’m tired of you ordering me about. I’m tired of your sarcasm
and your cutting remarks. There are times - and believe me this is one of them
- when I think I hate you!”

 The mockery deepened in
his face. “Fine. You can tell me in detail how much you hate me when we get to
Sirkris. A good row is always better enjoyed in comfortable surroundings.”

 She flung away from him
in disgust and headed off along the cliff in the direction of Sirkris.

 He followed her, a
strange expression on his face. After a little while she stopped and waited for
him to catch up.

 When he drew level with
her, their eyes met.

 “You did that
deliberately, didn’t you?” she accused. “You unprincipled blackguard, you
deliberately said what you knew would make me angry to give me the strength to
go on. You set out to provoke me.”

 He returned her gaze
seriously for a moment, all mockery gone from his face, the expression in his
grey eyes difficult to fathom. He wiped the rain from his eyes and turned to
face the sea.

 “Did you really think I
would leave you?” he asked quietly.

 The wind had stilled
and the sound of the sea surging around the rocks below them sounded oddly distant.
The steady silver curtain of rain fell all around them.

 “You are a strange
one,” she finally said.

 He remained silent, his
profile turned towards her as he continued to stare out to sea.

 “The wind has dropped,”
was all he replied. “The sea has calmed a little.” He lifted his arm and
pointed to a tall headland projecting into the sea. “Do you see that headland?
Sirkris lies just beyond it. If we hurry, we should get there before the light
goes.”

 He was over-optimistic,
however, because they had not reached the summit of the mighty headland when
the daylight faded.

  “It’s dangerous to
continue in the darkness,” Elorin gasped, leaning against her companion for
support. “One wrong step and we could easily fall over the cliff.”

 “On the other hand, if
we spend the night here we will most certainly be dead from exposure by
morning. I think we must risk it. It can’t be far now.”

  Painfully slowly they
stumbled up the grassy shoulder of the cliff, keeping as far as they could from
the precipitous edge. The dangerous void obligingly signalled its proximity by
the sound of breakers crashing on the rocks far below. Panting and trembling in
every limb, they emerged on the top of the steep headland to be greeted by a
cheering sight - the lights of Sirkris glittering through the darkness and
rain.

 But by the time they
has descended from the headland and fought their way through a dense wood of
hazel trees, Elorin’s strength had gone. When the tall towers guarding the
rope-bridge finally came in sight, Celedorn had his arm around her, half
carrying, half dragging her along.

 Torches blazed in the
archway that connected the two towers and as they approached, many guards armed
with bows and spears appeared and blocked their path, their weapons raised
suspiciously.

 “Who and what are you?”
demanded a voice in the darkness - a question that could only be asked by a
beleaguered people living right against the Forsaken Lands.

 “Travellers shipwrecked
on the coast north of here,” Celedorn replied. “We seek shelter in Sirkris.”

 “Come into the light!”

 Celedorn stepped
forward, half carrying Elorin. Her head hung forward limply and she was barely
conscious.

 “My wife is ill,”
Celedorn said. “We are cold and tired. I ask permission to cross to the
island.”

 The guards, relieved to
see that the strangers were at least human, relaxed a little.

 “You’ll have trouble
finding a room at any of the hostelries, my friend,” one remarked. “Refugees,
shipwrecked on this coast, have been streaming in for the last two days. They
say it is the worst storm in living memory. Many vessels have been lost.”

 Celedorn lifted Elorin
into his arms. “Have you any idea where I might find a room?”

 The guards looked with
pity at Elorin’s white face. “Try Mother Sorna’s,” one suggested. “The Inn of the
Grey Dolphin. Take the right-hand street immediately you cross the bridge and
follow it to the end, high up on the cliff. She might be able to accommodate
you.”

 “Thank you,” said
Celedorn, carefully keeping the injured side of his face turned from the
torchlight.

 He stepped beneath the
arch, and thankful that it wasn’t daylight so that he could not see the yawning
abyss below him, he started across the footbridge. It was wide enough to
accommodate two people abreast and was made of planks lashed together by sturdy
ropes, with more ropes set at chest-height as handrails. From experience, he
knew to place his feet gently, or the entire bridge would start to bounce
alarmingly. However, he got safely across, carrying his unconscious burden, and
found himself immediately in the town, amongst a maze of narrow, cobbled
streets lashed by the rain. Many lights glowed in the cosy windows of houses
and taverns but the streets were completely deserted, no one caring to venture
out in such dreadful weather. He passed several taverns and peered closely at
their wooden signs hanging on creaking hinges above the door. The houses on the
right of the street ceased and were replaced by a low, stone wall from beyond
which he could hear the distant crash of the sea echoing up from the rocks far
below. To his left, the row of houses straggled up the hill, their
rain-polished roofs set at different levels, the lamplight spilling onto the
cobbles from tiny latticed windows.

  The last building
before the hill rose sheer was a large, rambling inn. Above the door, swung a
wooden sign depicting a rather mischievous grey dolphin leaping out of a wave.
He nudged the door open with his elbow and staggered into the warmth and light.
A plump, matronly lady turned at the sound, and with a gasp, almost dropped the
jug she was carrying. Always arresting in appearance, he guessed that he must
make a startling sight, with clothes wet and torn, several day’s growth of
black beard, and the villainous scars.

 “Mother Sorna? 
I.....my wife is ill, she desperately needs warmth and rest.....I was told you
might have room for us.” As he spoke, he turned to show her Elorin’s pale face
resting against his shoulder. Reading refusal in her face, he added: “We were
shipwrecked north of here and have been travelling in this awful weather for a
long time, desperate to reach Sirkris. I.....I don’t think we can go any
further. If you turn us away, my wife will surely die.”

 He saw the plump lady’s
face soften as her motherly instincts overcame her distrust of his appearance.
She placed her hand against Elorin’s cold, wet cheek.

 “Oh, the poor child,”
she said compassionately. “I do have a room, young man,” she said briskly. “It
was booked by another party but they haven’t turned up - not surprising in this
weather. You come along with me. I have a fire lit in the room, which I’m sure
you will be glad of. You say you were shipwrecked? I suppose you lost
everything. There never has been such a storm. All the poor, lost souls drowned
in those dreadful seas.” She bustled along the corridor, chatting away,
apparently not requiring him to respond, and led him into a low-pitched
chamber. As she had promised, there was a bright fire burning in the hearth.
Two padded armchairs stood invitingly by the warmth and in the centre of the
room was a large bed covered by a feather quilt.

 “I’ll lend the poor
dear a nightdress,” she said kindly. “She must get out of those wet things.”

 She bustled away, as
Celedorn carefully set Elorin down in one of the chairs.

 He sat on his heels in
front of her. “Elorin,” he said, gently slapping her cheek. “You must change
out of those wet clothes.”

 She groaned a little.
“Where are we?”

 “We have arrived in
Sirkris.”