“You certainly know how to think on your feet, but there are a few holes with your story. Firstly, I was with Brin from the moment he entered the dining room until he retired for the night, except during the transition to the lounge, but I was in your presence then. At no point did he speak to you to arrange a meeting. Secondly, it is the middle of the night. Why would he ask to meet you at this hour and why would you agree? Thirdly, why were you naked?”
“I have already told you she attacked me,” Illen said, indignantly.
“But the gown is not torn,” he pointed out. “Then there is the last, and probably most important, point. I trust Sam and have never known her to lie.”
“I am being set up,” Illen appealed to Helen.
Illen did not get the reply she was expecting. “What is that smell?” Helen asked, totally ignoring her.
“What smell?” Tor asked
“That horrible aroma. Can you not smell it?”
As soon as it was established that only the women present could detect it, Ellen went up to Illen and sniffed her. “Hemper,” she stated. Everyone looked at her with blank faces, except for Illen, who looked furious. “It is a potion, illegal in most countries, that women apply to their skin to attract the opposite sex. While women can easily smell it, for some reason it is unnoticeable to men. Even the tiniest drop makes them unable to control their bodies and they find themselves deeply attracted to whoever is wearing it. She smells like she used the entire bottle.” Illen glared at her.
“You mean it’s like a date rape drug for men?” All eyes turned to Sam.
“What?”
“Where I come from there’s a drug men slip into women’s drink that makes them unable to say no. Half the time they do not even realise they have had sex when they wake up the next morning.”
“Yes,” Ellen agreed. “That is more or less the same thing except that the man is fully conscious and thinks he is acting of his own free will.”
“I think you have your proof then Helen,” Tor addressed the Queen. “The question is, what do you plan to do about it?”
Helen did not need time to think. Illen was escorted to her room and guards placed on the door. In the morning she would eat breakfast alone in her room then she could either pack her bags or have them packed for her. The Queen’s personal guards would be assigned to escort her back to Eshden forest and to hand her over to the elf king, along with a letter detailing her actions. The elves would decide the fate of one of their own.
Illen was screaming obscenities, including what a filthy and disgusting race she thought humans were, as she was dragged out of Brin’s room and down the corridor. Before she was out of sight, Helen called her guards to halt. She then calmly walked up to them and gave instructions for Illen to be thrown in the dungeon if she uttered one more sound before she reached her suite. Much to Sam’s disappointment, the threat rendered the elf silent.
Once she was safely out of sight, Sam knocked on her own bedroom door and informed Brin that it was safe for him to come out. She was surprised when he emerged fully dressed.
“I wanted to be prepared in case she caused any trouble for you,” he informed her. “And it felt wrong to be undressing in your room.”
Sam laughed. “In that case, return to your own room and get some sleep.” Sam bade everyone a good night and retired to her room, closing the door behind her. She fell into bed and was almost instantly asleep. Everyone else also returned to their rooms to try to get some sleep while it was still dark. Only Brin remained awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking about how differently the events could have unfolded and how lucky he was to have made friends so quickly; friends who were on his side. They had only known him a few days, but were already going out of their way to help him.
The next morning, nobody saw Illen. She was removed from the palace without anyone noticing. When Brin arrived for breakfast he appeared less tense than he had the night before, but no happier. Sam asked him why he did not appear joyous and carefree now that a great burden had been lifted off his shoulders.
“My father loves her,” he explained. “I am not sure how he is going to cope with her deceit.”
“Are you really so sure about that?” He gave her a puzzled look, so she called to Ellen. “This potion Illen used last night, can it be used to get a man to think he loves you?”
“When used over time and in small doses, most certainly,” she replied. “That is one of the reasons it became outlawed. A number of divorces have been granted when the man has claimed he only got married while under the influence of the perfume; though I am not convinced that all were telling the truth.”
“Thank you,” Brin said formally. “Once again you have both helped me. I am in your debt.”
The atmosphere around the breakfast table remained subdued that morning; the disturbance in the night had left everyone feeling tired. When Fuzzle arrived, Bellak accosted her. “Do we get to see the altar today or are you expecting us to waste even more time hanging around?”
Fuzzle, ignoring his attitude, addressed Tor, making sure her back was to Bellak.
“Prince Tor, Kaylin’s altar is located in a secret tomb built under the ruins of the original castle. In the last hundred years, only the keepers of the tomb have been permitted to visit it, except for the creator of your quest of course. It is small, cold and very dark. I will permit you to take only three others with you. Choose carefully and be ready to depart in one hour.” As she swept out of the room, everyone started talking at once, until Tor ordered quiet.
“Modo, I could use your eyes.” He nodded. “I need two others. Sam, as the one who retrieved the first part of the clue, I offer you first refusal.”
“Me? Go down to a small dark tomb? You must be joking.”
“I will go,” Brin announced. “Blood is required to obtain the next clue. I will provide it for you.”
Instantly there was uproar as everyone tried to dissuade him at once.
“Please,” he said calmly. “You have already helped me more than you can imagine. Let me do something toward repaying your kindness.”
“Brin comes,” Tor announced, preventing any further discussion.
“You will probably need me so I had better come with you,” Ellen said, somewhat reluctantly. “Though I will remain on the surface, so if any of you injure yourselves make sure you can get back up to daylight again.”
“That still leaves one more. Any volunteers?”
“I would like to go,” Dal said, a little timidly. “I have always wanted to see a tomb,” he continued, attempting to explain himself.
“Unless there are any objections, then it is decided. Those who are coming, meet back here in forty five minutes. Everyone else, do as you like, but be ready to depart quickly.”
Packing did not take long and the wagon was loaded well before the scheduled rendezvous time. It was a strangely nervous procession that made their way from the palace, through the streets toward the old castle. Queen Helen and Fuzzle were the only ones to accompany the volunteers, the rest opting to remain behind and await their companions’ return in the formal lounge where they had partaken of drinks the previous evening. Everyone tried to stay calm and relaxed, talking quietly together, except for Bellak who paced anxiously.
“What is taking them so long?” he continually asked, until he was not very politely told to wait in another room.
“Why is everyone so worried that something is going to go wrong?” Sam asked. “What has happened when retrieving other clues?”
It was Patrick who answered her question. “Nothing much. There have been a few casualties, usually myself, when we have arrived at the same time as another team and fighting broke out. You already know about Bellak’s son and we also nearly lost Hurst when a wooden bridge we were crossing collapsed, but that is about it.”
“This time it feels odd,” Liselle took up where Patrick left off. “I cannot explain why, but something has us all on edge.” She shivered and Torrick put his
arm around her, pulling her close into his chest. “I will be glad when they are back and we can all move on.”
The current Keeper stood up when he saw figures approaching. He had been underground, performing his daily ritual of lighting the lamps, when he heard his name being called from above. Looking up the shaft which he had descended, he could see nobody, so he had climbed the rungs to the surface, where a runner informed him of the Queen’s imminent arrival. He left the room and waited for her in the fresh air, leaning against one of the few walls still standing. The Queen did not visit the site often and he was intrigued as to the reason for the unexpected expedition from the palace.
As they approached, he could make out some of the people accompanying the Queen, but he did not recognise them. When his eyes fell on Fuzzle, he began to panic. He had only ever met her on one other occasion, when he had not performed his duties correctly, and it was a meeting he would never forget. He volunteered for the position of the tomb’s keeper in part because it was not under her jurisdiction.
“Welcome your Majesty,” he said, bowing low as they approached.
“Thank you Keeper. My friends need access to the tomb. Please show them the way, but they must enter the tomb alone.”
“Of course. Would you all please follow me.”
“Wait one moment,” Fuzzle called after them, as they started to move closer to the ruins. Then she addressed Tor. “My duties officially end here. I was instructed to show you to the tomb and no more. I have no idea what awaits you down there. Queen Helen and I will return to the palace and wait for you there. You have until sundown, at which point soldiers will be sent after you and you will be forcibly removed, whether you have obtained what you need or not. You will not be allowed to enter the tomb a second time.”
“I understand. Hopefully we will be back at the palace soon.”
Ellen looked at the ruins. They were obviously the remains of a great castle, but very little was still standing other than foundations. They walked through an archway that looked ready to collapse and found themselves in a large room. All four walls were standing, though holes were visible, and the roof was still mostly intact. In the far corner a trap door lay open, revealing a deep shaft with rungs down one side. The bottom could not be seen.
Indicating down the shaft, the keeper instructed them to descend.
“Sorry, but this is where I leave you,” Ellen announced. “Nothing is going to get me to climb down that. If any of you get hurt, make sure your injuries do not prevent you climbing back up.” She then sat on the floor in the corner, took out a book she had brought with her and started to read, smiling broadly.
Tor shrugged his shoulders then removed his sword, as it would hinder his climb. Handing it to Dal, he instructed the young man to throw it down to him when he called for it. The shaft was not as deep as it first appeared and within moments Tor's voice could be heard calling from the bottom. Dal threw down the sword, hilt first, followed by his own, then he eagerly climbed down. The keeper had informed them that weapons would not be necessary, but they preferred not to take the risk of going unarmed. Modo scrambled down, followed by the keeper, leaving Brin alone with Ellen. Removing his bow from his back, he handed it to her, requesting that she take care of it. She agreed, knowing how precious the weapon was to him.
By the time Brin reached the last rung, the keeper had completed his task of lighting the lamps so they could see all around them. They were in a surprisingly large room. All four walls were brightly painted with battle scenes, as was the high ceiling above them. The lamps caused shadows to form in strange places and the movement of the flames made the pictures seem eerily alive. The floor, which was made from perfectly joined slabs of slate, showed no sign of aging, though there were a few scratches suggesting heavy furnishings were once present.
Currently the room was completely bare, devoid of even a stool to sit on. Natural light could not penetrate the underground chamber, making it gloomy and very cold. Except for the shaft down which they had climbed, the only other exit appeared to be a wooden door at the opposite end of the room.
“This is the outer chamber,” the keeper announced, as they looked around the room. “That door leads to the inner chamber, also known as the tomb. I will wait for you here.”
Taking this as an instruction, they made their way across the floor to the door. There were no visible handles or latches, but when Tor tried to push it, he found it would not move.
“Look closely,” the keeper instructed and all four of them started to examine the wooden door and the wall around it. Suddenly it began to slowly open outward.
“What did you just do?” Modo asked, turning around to look at the keeper.
“Pressing parts of the picture to your left in a set sequence operates the opening mechanism. I opened it while your backs were to me. The door will automatically close behind you. You will see an identical picture in the inner chamber that opens the door from the inside.”
“But you are not going to tell us the places to press, are you?” It was not really a question, so it received no answer.
“Knock loudly when you are ready to come out and I will reopen the door for you. Just do not spend too long in there as there is no air supply and the door seals tight.”
“Wonderful,” Modo murmured as he followed Tor through the door. Dal and Brin both had the foresight to pick up lamps before entering and their light illuminated the chamber. It was small, containing only a sarcophagus on one side and the altar on the other. Suddenly the door slammed shut behind them, causing a draft which made one of the lamps go out, making the room seem dingy. Dal wandered over to the coffin and began inspecting it.
“Hey,” he yelled. “There is an inscription here. Bring the light over.”
The light was passed to him and he read the carvings on the top, tracing them with his fingers. “It definitely says Kaylin.”
“Then we must be in the right place.” They made their way over to the altar and examined it thoroughly. There were no inscriptions on the sides or front. Modo placed his fingers behind it and the lamp was positioned to shine down as much as was possible, but all he could see was the smooth back. The top was a flat stone slab that was impossible to move.
“Blood time,” Modo said, directing his grin at Brin.
“Now?” the elf asked and when Tor nodded he took an arrow from his quiver and dragged the sharp tip across his palm. Blood instantly erupted and, holding his hand above the altar, he allowed it to drip down. As it soaked into the stone, the spell that had been placed over the altar was activated and words began to form across the stone top. They all leaned forward to read them.
For entrance to the sacred hall
The cicerone you will need again
The doors will stay forever closed
Without their agonized scream of pain
It must be clear, it must be loud
To reach Zeneth in his grave
No magic or spells may be used
Once inside the deep dark cave
Tor passed a clean cloth to Brin, who used it to bandage his hand. Nobody spoke and they avoided looking at each other. It was Modo who asked the question they had all been thinking.
“Do we tell her?”
“Would you want to know if it was you?” Brin asked.
“Yes,” Tor said instantly. “I always like to know what I am up against.”
“But you are a man, she is not.”
Dal’s voice filled the quiet cave. “If we tell her, she will probably have nightmares. The fear and dread will increase daily until she becomes physically ill. On the other hand, if we say nothing, when she eventually finds out she may never forgive us.”
“Shit shit bloody shit,” Modo swore. “God damn it all to hell.”
“That is not helping,” Tor calmly informed him.
“Maybe not, but it makes me feel better.” He ran a hand across his scalp. “You are the leader of this quest. I vote you make the decision.”
&
nbsp; Dal and Brin both nodded their agreement. “Then we tell everyone the next part of the clue. We cannot hide it from her forever and I would prefer she hear it from me.” Nobody disagreed with this statement, though they were not happy about it. Reluctantly, they knocked on the door. It was quickly opened and they made their way to the surface.
Ellen jumped up as she heard footsteps approaching. Seeing the cloth wrapped around Brin’s hand, she unwrapped it and, placing her hand over his, started to sing. A few moments later she released him and Brin gasped in wonder as he stared at his palm. No trace of his wound remained. It was then that Ellen realised that they were subdued and quiet.
“What is wrong?” she asked. “Did you not get the clue?”
“We got it, but there is a problem.” Tor then recited the first part, word for word.
“Dear god,” Ellen exclaimed, hugging herself as a chill went down her spine. “Are you going to tell her?”
“We are going to let everyone know what we read. We can hardly keep it from her. Bellak, for one, will keep repeating it without checking if she is within earshot.”
They looked at each other in silence for a few minutes, subconsciously delaying the journey back to the palace and the confrontation that was bound to occur.
“We may be lucky,” Ellen said, as they started a slow walk back. “Sam may not know that cicerone means guide.”
Chapter 25
Samson heard approaching footsteps and barked a warning. “You are a wolf not a dog,” Seth reminded him and he lay down, covering his muzzle with his paws in embarrassment.
All eyes were on the door as it burst open and Tor strode in. Quickly surveying the scene he asked, “Where is Bellak?”
“Behind you,” came the gruff reply. “I heard you return.” Once the wizard was inside, Tor closed the door. Brin and Dal had been sent to the stables to ensure the horses were ready to leave, Modo to inform the Queen and Fuzzle of their return and Ellen was in the kitchens, organising food supplies for their next journey. They were already aware of everything he had to say, so he did not wait for their return.
The Guide Page 31
