The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (41 page)

 He did not return to
his blankets but sat beside her on the fallen log, his shoulder touching hers,
content to listen to the quietness of the night without feeling the need to
talk. Yet for Celedorn the temptation to draw her against him was almost
overwhelming. The intimacy of the darkness and the sense of companionship
exacerbated his yearning for her, but he sat beside her resisting his emotions,
hiding from her his inner torment, determined to bear his hurt alone rather
than see her turn away from him in disgust. When he finally returned to his bed
on the pine needles, he dreamed of her. He dreamed she had turned to him in the
soft darkness of the night and kissed him. He could feel her hand on his
shoulder and the light pressure of her lips on his. He could hear her murmur
softly: “It has always been you. Always.”

 When he awoke, the
morning light was shining between the tree trunks, casting long, blue shadows
on the ground. He reluctantly abandoned his dream to find that he was the last
to arise, and had to endure some ribbing about his lazy habits. Still half
under the influence of his dream, his eyes turned towards Elorin, but she was
busy packing away her belongings, chatting animatedly to the Prince and didn’t
so much as glance in his direction.

 They climbed ever
higher that day, still bearing slightly west as Andarion had suggested. As the
sun rose above the treetops, the floor of the forest became shady, cool and
mysterious. The carpet of needles deadened their footfalls, preserving the
quietude. The occasional calls of birds echoed between the tall trunks, giving
reassurance by the fact that they were joyously undisturbed. The only
disadvantage with their surroundings was that the trees were so dense that it
was difficult to get their bearings. Occasionally a promontory of bare rock
projected from the trees, offering a more extensive view of the mountainside.
They emerged from the dim coolness into the brightness and  warmth of the
sun in order to ascertain their position.

 The grey foothills were
now out of sight. They had crossed a fold of the mountains that gave a
magnificent view into a steep valley below, along which a glittering river ran.
The valley, too, was wooded but occasional open spaces allowed them to chart
the river’s course. A path appeared to follow the river, ducking in and out of
the trees. As they watched, a band of black forms emerged from the trees
following the path. The Turog were travelling rapidly, jogging along in their
usual untidy fashion. The companions were far above them, but Celedorn
instantly signalled to them to keep low, away from the skyline. They all
dropped to their knees, except Relisar who had been looking in the opposite
direction, his hand shading his eyes from the sun.

 Triana, who was nearest
him, crawled over and caught the tail of his robe, unceremoniously dragging him
down.

 The Turog did not stop,
or deviate from the path and the watchers on the promontory were just beginning
to sigh with relief when they caught sight of something else - a flash of
metal, much higher amongst the trees, this time unmistakable. Andarion instantly
turned to Celedorn and would have spoken but for the fact that Celedorn
pre-empted him.

 “I know. I’ve seen it.”

 “How many?”

 “Difficult to tell
amongst the trees but a couple of dozen at least.”

 “Red Turog?” asked
Andarion, who valued his companion’s exceptional eyesight.

 “No, common, as far as
I can tell. That hardly makes things any better. These woods seem to be
crawling with them.”

 “They are below us and
to the east. We have no alternative but to continue with our chosen path.”

 “I have not yet seen a
pass. These accursed trees hide everything.”

 “The Turog at the river
are beginning to ascend. Surely that means there must be some sort of pass?”

 Celedorn’s expression
was grave. “Either that, or they know we are here and are looking for us.”

 Relisar crawled over,
getting tangled up in his gown and setting his knee on the tail of his beard in
a manner that made his eyes water.

 “There are more of them
to the west,” he whispered, as if afraid they might overhear him. “That was
what I was watching when that young woman very rudely dragged me to the
ground.”

 “Then we have no
choice,” responded Celedorn grimly. “Upwards it must be.”

 For the rest of that
day they climbed ever higher amongst the trees. The mountainside was becoming
steeper, yet still the forest continued unbroken. Celedorn occasionally
disappeared off on his own to scout out the land. Usually when he returned, he
ordered a change of direction, having sighted yet another band of the
creatures.

 “It feels like we are
being herded,” commented Andarion.

 “Very possibly.”

 “I have been on hunts
near Addania where beaters are sent in amongst the tall grasses to flush out
the game. It feels just like that.”

 “That would assume that
they know we are here.”

 “The Red Turog knew of
our presence.”

 “Yes, they might have
picked up our trail again. I thought our stay in the Hidden Valley would have
foiled pursuit but they are keen trackers and can read the significance of even
a bent blade of grass. We must assume they are driving us into a trap. We do
not know these regions as they do, so the only way of avoiding such a fate is
to try to break through their lines. It would not be wise to allow ourselves to
be driven in the direction they wish. The fewest numbers seem to be to the
east. I think we should try that way. How are you at slitting throats
silently?”

 The Prince grinned. “A
little out of practice but perfectly willing.”

 “Good. You and I must
keep a little ahead of the others to deal with any opposition.”

 “Elorin has her bow.”

 Celedorn shook his
head. “Not always silent. A cry at the wrong moment could ruin everything.”

 When this strategy was
explained to the others, Elorin fitted an arrow to her bow anyway. “Just in
case you miss one,” she explained.

 Celedorn drew her to
one side, looking more troubled than she had ever seen him. “Do you have a
knife, Elorin?”

 “Yes, a small one.”

 “Keep it close. If all
this goes wrong, you must not allow them to take you alive. I......I have seen
what they do to those they capture. It must not happen to you or Triana.”

 She saw the deadly
serious look in his eyes and paled a little. “You have not said such a thing
before.”

 “There are hundreds of
them around us. Our chances of slipping though are slim. Promise me.”

 “How do I.....I mean,
what do.......?”

 He lightly touched her
neck with one finger. “Just there.” Her eyes met his and he added: “It will not
come to that. It’s just a precaution.”

 “Say nothing to Triana.
It would only frighten her. I will look after her.”

 He nodded and turned
without another word to join the Prince. The two men disappeared between the
trees and the others followed at a distance, each subdued and sombre, each
aware that the odds were against them. No one noticed Elorin slip the small
knife into her belt.

 Andarion and Celedorn
crept forward using the broad trunks as cover, moving with noiseless stealth.
Rough voices could soon be heard coming from up ahead. A group of about half a
dozen Turog had stopped in a clearing, and as usual, were arguing in their
guttural tongue.

 Celedorn silently
signalled to the Prince to circle round to the left. Before he was in position,
the argument appeared to reach its climax and three of the Turog threw up their
hands in disgust and stumped off through the trees, leaving the remaining three
in the glade.

 On the signal from
Celedorn, the Prince stepped boldly into the clearing. All three Turog whirled
to face him as of one accord and didn’t even see the attack coming from behind.
One had its throat effectively slit and another its head caught in a vicious
arm-lock. A sharp twist instantly broke its neck. The third turned to run but
was brought down by the Prince in a scrambling fall. They rolled over and over
down a gentle slope and came to a halt with the Turog on top. It grabbed for its
sword but was not quick enough and found instead Andarion’s knife driven
through its larynx. The Prince heaved the body off and was just rising to his
feet when one of the two Turog previously involved in the argument, returned.
For the space of a heartbeat it gaped in astonishment at the two men, then
turned on its heels to run. Celedorn changed his grip on his hunting knife,
grasping it by the blade, and flung it with deadly accuracy at its retreating
back. The knife buried itself almost to the hilt, but the creature did not die,
instead it uttered a high-pitched squeal of pain. In response, an upheaval
could be heard amongst the trees: harsh shouts, the thudding of many heavy
feet. An arrow snicked past Celedorn and buried itself in the wounded Turog.
The squealing abruptly stopped. Celedorn looked over his shoulder to see Elorin
with her bow in her hand. He snatched his knife out of the body.

 “Go!” he said urgently,
almost colliding with Relisar and Triana as they came into the glade. They
stared at him.

 
“Run!”
he
yelled, just as a large body of snarling, black-clad forms burst through the
trees.

 Triana and Relisar took
off up a fold in the mountain, with the others hard on their heels. A few of
the fleeter Turog reached Celedorn and Andarion but were ruthlessly cut down.
The two swords flashed and glittered fiercely as they carried out their bloody
work. But there were too many to fight. Helter-skelter the company ran up the
dry valley with the clamouring horde of Turog snapping at their heels. They
dodged around the trees, scrambling over the increasingly steep ground. Higher
they went, the two men making use of the narrowing sides of the valley to fight
a defensive action, trying to slow down the pursuit in order to give the others
a chance to escape.

 The sides of the valley
steepened still further, becoming almost precipitous, frustrating the Turog’s
attempts to outflank them.

 “Where does this valley
lead?” yelled the Prince over the tumult.

 Celedorn ripped the
point of his sword across the face of the leading Turog. “I don’t know. At
least they can’t get behind us.”

 But on rounding a
shoulder of rock, they found the others staring in dismay at a sheer wall of
rock that sealed off the head of the valley. It was overhung with a heavy
curtain of ivy but offered nothing in the way of handholds. The ivy, though it
grew thickly, clearly would not bear their weight.

 “
Trapped,”
hissed Celedorn, turning to face his pursuers with the determination to take as
many with him as he could.

 Behind him, he heard
Elorin’s voice call out: “There’s a cave behind the ivy - a sort of passage.”
He flicked a glance over his shoulder to discover that apart from the Prince
standing beside him, the valley behind was empty.

 Relisar and Triana
found themselves ruthlessly pushed behind the ivy into the darkness.

 “We need light!” cried
Triana in a panicky voice,

 “Just a moment, my
dear,” replied Relisar calmly. “I know an old trick that might work.” He picked
up a round stone from the floor and  balancing it on his palm commanded:

 “
Thengor
a-falion.” 
The stone instantly began to glow. “You see?” said Relisar
with smug satisfaction. “The stone remembers that it was born from a womb of
fire. An old trick that I learned as an apprentice. So glad I remembered it.”

 The sounds of clashing
weapons came from outside and Andarion shot precipitately through the curtain
of ivy. He instantly spun round on his heel. “Celedorn! Come
on
!”

 Celedorn came though
backwards, decapitating a Turog as he came.

 Triana winced and
looked away.

 “What is this?” he
gasped, his chest heaving for breath. “Just another trap?”

 “The passage seems to
continue some distance,” Elorin explained.

 Relisar tossed the
glowing stone to Andarion who instinctively caught it, then dropped it with a
cry of alarm. Relisar picked it up. “It’s not hot,” he advised tolerantly,
restoring it to the Prince. “I will create another.”

 “Why do they not follow
us in?” Elorin asked tensely, an arrow at the ready and pointed threateningly
at the ivy.

 Celedorn peered out.
“They are re-grouping and are cutting branches to make torches. They appear to
consider us trapped and are in no hurry. Either that, or they are going to
smoke us out.”

 Relisar had by this
time made another glowing stone and by its faint, golden light they began to
make their way along the passage. The two younger men brought up the rear,
walking backwards, swords drawn. The passage soon began to twist and turn and
they left daylight far behind. The snarling Turog were also left behind and the
cave gradually became as silent as a tomb.

 Triana, ever sensitive
to atmosphere, looked about her fearfully. “I get a bad feeling about this
place. Why did the Turog not follow us? Perhaps they know what is in here.”