The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (57 page)

 As they penetrated
deeper into the ruined city, to the areas occupied by large public buildings,
they began to find more walls intact and the occasional fragment of roof. A
ruined tower, still rising to some considerable height, leaned drunkenly to one
side. It offered the possibility of shelter but was rejected on the basis that
it looked ready to collapse at any moment. More structures began to be
recognisable. A crumbling fountain in a large square bore a pitted and eroded
figure still identifiable as a dolphin. Further and further into the ruins they
travelled, trespassing into the realm of the vanquished. Remnants of the city
passed by them -  side streets and squares, avenues and courtyards, more
and more grandiose piles of ruined masonry. But the streets were silent and dead,
pregnant with a stillness that brooded, as if the ghosts of those that had died
watched the living with ancient envy. The intermittent crashing of the thunder
was almost a relief.

 At last they arrived at
what had once been a huge and magnificent square surrounded by palatial
buildings. Much of the paving was still intact, though weeds, shivering in the
cheerless breeze, now grew between the square cobbles. Facing them was so grand
an edifice that they assumed it must be a palace. Much of it was still intact. Its
entrance lay through a tall, impressive portico whose smooth, granite pillars
had resisted the ravages of time. It had once been a tall building with many
upper floors, but now all above the second floor had gone. It did, however,
offer the possibility of shelter.

 Celedorn looked
questioningly at Andarion, who nodded. They dismounted and giving their reins
to Elorin, drew their swords in unison. Together, they mounted the steps to the
triple arches of the entrance.

 Relisar and Elorin
exchanged anxious glances as the two men disappeared from sight through the
doorway. Triana, always of a more nervous disposition than the others, found
herself constantly looking over her shoulder across the darkening square.

 Andarion and Celedorn
stepped cautiously into the gloom of the ruined palace. Despite his earlier
cavalier dismissal of Triana’s fears, Andarion found his nerves tightly strung,
his eyes searching every shadowy corner. They crossed a large hallway, over
what had once been a beautiful mosaic floor, now thick with dust and old
leaves. On the far side they reached another portico, the mirror image of the
entrance, that led to a courtyard open to the sky. Lightning shot across the
clouds with a sound like ripping silk, briefly illuminating with a blinding
white light, every inch of the overgrown courtyard.

 Andarion looked up.
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” he said. “No roof.”

 “We’ll try the door on
the far side.”

 They threaded their way
through a tangled undergrowth of thorny bushes and some sort of choking creeper
that crawled over every surface and strangled every pillar.

 “It must have been
beautiful once,” observed Celedorn, noting the elegant tiers of marble pillars
supporting the upper stories.

 “Perhaps, but it is not
beautiful now. In fact, this place begins to fill me with a sense of dread -
but please don’t tell Triana that, as I am already in her bad books for
laughing at her.”

 Celedorn merely smiled
a little tightly in reply, and ascended the steps at the far side of the
courtyard. Two worm-eaten and mouldering wooden doors still hung drunkenly on
their hinges, defying all logic by their existence. Upon being pushed, one of
them toppled over and fell with a dusty crash to the floor. Instantly, with a
screech, something exploded out of the darkness of the interior, narrowly
missing the intruders. Celedorn merely ducked, but Andarion, with a cry of
alarm, struck out with his sword. His cousin reached out and caught his arm in
an iron grip.

 “Stop!” he ordered.
“It’s only some pigeons that have been nesting in the building and have been
disturbed by the door falling.”

 Andarion gave him a
sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

 “No need to apologise.
I came within an inch of doing the very same thing myself. The atmosphere of
this place is getting to me as well.” He stepped over the fallen door. “At
least there appears to be some sort of roof over the hall beyond. We should
light a fire in a corner where the glow cannot be seen from any great distance.
In a short time it will be too dark to explore any further. Fetch the others
and bring the horses though into the hall. I think we should leave them saddled
for tonight. I’ll see if I can get up to the next floor to obtain a
vantage-point over the city. So far, there has been no sign of life, but given
the sheer scale of these ruins, that means very little. An army could be hiding
here and you would never see it.”

 “There are plenty of
dead branches in the courtyard. I’ll soon have a fire going and maybe that will
help to banish the ghosts.”

 A crash of thunder cut
off the end of his sentence, causing the building to vibrate. A tile slid off
the roof and clattered down into the courtyard. “Let’s just hope this entire
edifice doesn’t collapse around our ears.”

 By the time Celedorn
returned from his reconnoitre, a fire was burning cheerfully in one corner of
the cavernous hall. It lit up the echoing emptiness, the dusty floor and the
rows of lonely pillars, with an incongruously homely glow. The others were
seated on their packs around it, staring into the flames. The horses stood
patiently to one side, thinking poorly of accommodation that did not provide
grazing. Elorin looked up quickly when she heard his step, and smiled with
sudden relief when she saw him. He came and sat beside her, his answering smile
a caress.

 “There are two floors
above us,” he informed them. “The first one at least is reasonably intact.
Beyond the doors at the back of this hall, there is a huge marble staircase
that curves upwards to the floor above. However, the second floor is in a pretty
ruinous state but it gave me a view over the city and I can see no other lights
or signs of occupation. The floors above are inches thick with dust, and apart
from a few mice tracks, there is no evidence that the dust had been disturbed
for centuries. However, I got to explore very little of the building because it
got so dark there was a real danger of falling through the rotten parts of the
floor. We must take our chances, I think.”

 “I look forward to
exploring it in the morning,” Relisar enthused, stuffing a piece of bread into
his mouth.

 “You are alone in that
wish,” replied Celedorn. “Daylight will improve this place very little. My only
wish is to leave it. Too many ghosts live here for my taste.”

 Triana started and
gaped at him, her bread suspended in mid-air. Observing her expression with
some amusement, Celedorn remarked: “I was speaking figuratively, of course. You
may relax, Triana, I have encountered nothing that would pounce on you in the
dark.”

 To her chagrin,
everyone laughed. Noticing the Prince’s smug expression, Celedorn was unable to
resist adding: “Except for some truly
fearsome
pigeons.”

 Triana, to whom the
Prince had related his encounter with the birds, crowed with triumph, glad to
get vicarious revenge upon him.

 Elorin arose and
crossed to the doorway leading out into the courtyard. “The thunder is getting
less, I think. The rain will soon come.”

 As if in response to
her words, a few heavy drops fell on the steps, making dark spots in the dust.
Then, as if unable to bear the strain any longer, the clouds burst asunder and
hurled battalions of silver needles at the ground with a mighty hissing,
roaring sound like a ferocious battle. It poured in miniature cataracts off the
remaining remnants of the roof, bringing down loose tiles in its churning wake.
It thundered down onto the wilderness in the courtyard, turning the vegetation
into a soggy, dripping morass that cowered beneath the assault. Water, finding
its way through the upper floors, dripped with dismal, echoing plops from
numerous cracks in the lofty ceiling into pools on the floor. Only the corner
by the fire remained dry.

 The Prince came and
joined Elorin by the door. “We have chosen our corner well. I would not like to
be caught on the open plain in such a deluge.”

 While he remained
looking out at the rain, she returned to her seat by the fire and leaned her
head against Celedorn’s shoulder. “I have always loved the sound of thundery
rain. It fills the air with such a wonderful freshness. It makes our little
corner by the fire almost cosy in comparison.”

 He tilted his injured
cheek against the top of her head in such an unconsciously intimate gesture
that it made Triana’s heart ache. “I know,” he agreed. “Even in such a place as
this, the sound of the elements outside doing their worst, contrasting with the
warmth of the fire within, combine to give the feeling of shelter and safety.”

 Triana looked at them
gloomily. “I’m glad you two feel safe. I still cannot rid myself of the
impression that something is creeping up behind me - which reminds me, who is
taking the first watch tonight?”

 “I will,” Relisar
volunteered, brushing breadcrumbs out of his beard. “When one gets on in years,
one needs less sleep anyway.”

 “Keep the fire bright,”
said Celedorn meaningfully. “There are branches stacked behind you. And
Relisar? Try to stay alert.”

 The old man sniffed
huffily. “Do you not trust me?”

 Celedorn merely grinned
in reply.

 As the heavy rain began
to slacken and grow quieter, and the whole building started to echo and gurgle
to the sound of water penetrating every nook and cranny, the younger members of
the company settled down in their blankets by the fire. Relisar alone stayed
awake, staring into the dripping darkness that lurked beyond the arched
doorway. Now and again he arose to put more fuel on the fire and fondly looked
over his brood of sleeping children, noting how even in sleep, Elorin’s hand
was clasped in Celedorn’s. Then he resumed his seat by the warmth and permitted
himself to sink into deep thought, his chin resting on his chest, his hand
absently stroking his silver beard. Gradually, as the hours passed, as the fire
warmed him, and the drops falling from the ceiling exercised their hypnotic
effect, his eyelids grew heavy and began to droop.

  Elorin awoke with a
start. Her eyes flew wide open but she saw no more than with them shut, for the
hall was in pitch darkness. The fire had completely gone out. With her sight so
useless, she probed her surroundings with her other senses, aware that
something had awoken her, but unable to determine what. Hearing provided few
answers. A heavy, oppressive silence reigned. Faintly she could distinguish the
steady breathing of her sleeping companions and an occasional plink, as a drop
fell from the distant ceiling. But gradually as her mind attuned itself to the
night, a feeling grew upon her. A dreadful yet familiar feeling. A sensation
that she had not experienced since Skerris-morl. The feeling of being watched.

 Wildly she stared into
the darkness while her body grew rigid with fear. It was the same as in the
Great Forest, the same as by the fire at the camp by the estuary. She knew with
awful certainty what it meant.

 Her hand shot out in
the darkness and encountering Celedorn close beside her, shook him urgently.

 He was instantly awake.
“What is it?” he asked.

 “It’s here,” she
managed to whisper, though her throat was closed with fear. “The blackness that
found us at Skerris-morl. It’s here. I can feel it.”

 He leaned up on his
elbow and probed the surrounding darkness with the sense that had served him so
well over the years - the ability to detect danger.

 “I believe you are
right,” he said with ominous foreboding, “but it must still be distant because
the impression is not so strong as at Skerris-morl.” He suddenly stiffened when
he realised the significance of the darkness surrounding him. He made a faint
sound of annoyance. “That old idiot had fallen asleep and let the fire die.”
She felt him rise in the darkness and then heard a soft thud and a cry from
Relisar.

 “You were supposed to
be on watch,” hissed Celedorn’s voice out of the darkness. “You have let the
fire go out.”

 “That hurt,” said
Relisar in an aggrieved voice. “I’m sorry, my dear boy, I must have nodded
off.”

  Out of the stygian
blackness, Andarion spoke:  “What’s wrong?”

 But before anyone could
reply, a gasp of shock was heard from Relisar. “There is something here! A
presence! An evil will! It approaches us even now - and it is strong, very
strong!”

 “We must leave at
once,” said Celedorn urgently. “If it is what we think it is, we cannot fight
it. We have no alternative but to flee.”

 “What is it?” panicked
Triana.

 “It is the demon of
darkness that Elorin and I encountered before. The only thing it fears is
strong light and there is no moon tonight. Our only chance is to keep ahead of
it and pray for a clear sunrise. If the sky is cloudy at dawn then......” He
left the sentence unfinished but the import was clear enough. “Quickly, there
is not a moment to lose. We must leave here with all speed. I must strike a
light, as we cannot blunder about in the darkness.”