The Holdsman turned and faced the three noble hammersons. He bowed his head slightly and said, "I am certain that nothing would please our folk more than to rest secure here in Nua Cearta enjoying your boundless hospitality as your forge-fellows, partaking of your board and drinking deeply of your wisdom. You are the guardians of such craft, such knowledge, such a wondrous way of life. Take Devved, for example." Despite his dark humour, Kal chuckled.
"What would he not give to spend the rest of his days striking the anvils of your smithies, exploring their workings, learning their art, sharing a tankard with your splendid forgemen. And as for the others? Well . . ." The tension had lifted from his voice, and Kal smiled again. He paused to sip from the Regnal, savoured its age and smoothness. "But now, alas, we have imposed quite long enough, even if it be a happy and welcomed imposition, upon your hospitality."
"How so, Kalaquinn?" Alcesidas said, the blitheness fading from his eyes, his jaw set. "Our hospitality is not something we portion out like some close-fisted and niggardly shopkeeper haggling over a chipped chamber pot. Your folk may remain with us no matter how long, even to their children's children, for you are as kin to us." Almost imperceptibly, the prince's chin quivered.
Kal's throat caught. Smiling, he lifted his arms wide and stepped towards the hammerson prince. "And you are as kin to us, Alcesidas. To me you shall always be both friend and brother, bound by ties stronger even than ties of blood." Kal's eyes welled with tears, and they embraced each other.
"I am deeply touched," the young Hordanu continued, breaking from Alcesidas and turning to the king and Meriones, the hand which was unencumbered by the wine glass remaining still on the prince's back. "But howsoever much we are welcome here, we are yet the remnant folk of the Stoneholding, with a warrant in the wider world, a warrant and a fate that outreaches our sojourn in Nua Cearta. Happily, our paths have merged and run together for a span, and our paths will doubtless cross again. But until then we must continue on the separate journeys that have been set before our peoples. Nonetheless, my lord Magan, this does not mean that I shall not remain forever in your debt. For as long as I hold breath, you and your forgefolk shall have a place of grateful honour in my heart."
"As you shall in ours," the king answered. "The doors to our realm stand open to you always as home haven in fair weather and in storm, in weal and in woe."
"I thank you once more, Magan Hammermaster." Kal bowed to the king. Then, straightening, he emptied his wine glass and pursed his lips appreciatively. "No, no, Alcesidas." Kal waved off the prince, who made shift to retrieve the wine bottle from the sideboard. "If I take one more sip of your Regnal, I shall never summon the resolve to leave your wondrous kingdom." Kal laughed. " 'Tis potion strong enough to beguile a man from his bounden duty."
"Ah, I see, Kalaquinn," said Alcesidas with a wink. "We are a folk too ill-favoured to gain your settled residence here. Evidently our Regnal has charms that we lack."
"You retemper my meaning with your ready wit, Alcesidas. If we make not haste with our preparations to leave Nua Cearta, you shall soon have your hammerfolk spurning me for a hopeless ingrate."
"Impossible, my lord Hordanu!" roared Magan. "Pay no heed to Alcesidas."
"Spurned? No fear of that," Meriones agreed.
"There, Kalaquinn, you have turned my own sire against me. And Meriones. I am outnumbered and overruled."
"Indeed, Alcesidas," Kal said, "if I so affect your state, then you will be glad to see the last of me."
"By the forge, Kalaquinn, who now retempers meanings? No, my dear friend, know for certain that I shall miss you deeply. But how soon must you leave us?"
"I would leave two days hence. Would that it suit you, my lord Hammermaster."
"Suit us? Absolutely not," Alcesidas replied in mock horror. "Never would suit us better. But we will make shift, Master Kalaquinn, we will make shift. Far be it from me to argue with my lord Myghternos Hordanu."
"Far be it from you indeed," King Magan said, glancing at his son. "Far be it from any of us. Rest assured, Kalaquinn. We shall see that you and your people are well provisioned for the journey you must make. Alcesidas, you will make the necessary arrangements. See to it carefully. And Meriones, attend to whatever needs my lord the Hordanu may have himself. You are a bard—you will know best how to provide what he requires."
"Yes, my lord."
"My land and my people remain at your disposal, my lord Myghternos Hordanu. Whatsoever you request, it shall be yours. And not only that, but we shall have a proper leave-taking, with a feast the likes of which these forgeland caverns of Nua Cearta have never witnessed, nor are like to witness for ages to come!"
The vast chamber of Sterenhall rang with the noise of merrymaking. Indeed, the revelry had grown like leavened dough, swelling until it outgrew the confines of the great bowled structure, spilling over into Sterentref. Every window was thrown open to the gentle night air, and every window glowed with the soft warmth of avalynn light. From each flowed and rippled the sound of festivity—voices raised in laughter and song, the clatter of crockery and the muted thud of mead and ale mugs lifted in cheer, the background wash of conversation, and a dog's barking, which was soon met by that of other dogs within other windows. And there was music—high-pitched pipes swirling around the rhythmic thrum of drumbeat, the quick whine of fiddles and low drone of the viols, cymbals' tamp and clash, bells' chime, and the feathered strum and pluck of the harps.
It was the music that, to his mind, had swept Kal out of the immense doors of Sterenhall like a great and gentle wave, washing him tumbling to rest upon the upper tier of the terraced fundament of the Hall of the Stars. Here it bathed him, as he sat looking out into the darkness, washing over him before it plunged, splashing down step over step to the shadowed town below, richly embroidering the black velvet silence of the Nua Ceartan night.
True to Magan Hammermaster's word, the celebration was magnificent. His generous providence for the leave-taking feast was second only to his providence in preparation for the actual leave-taking. The feast had begun in earnest early in the afternoon, although a steady stream of people had been arriving from all directions since just after dawn, revelry spontaneously erupting wherever the stream gathered into a pool of carousing hammerfolk. Now the celebration was at its height and would no doubt sustain itself long after the Holdsfolk had bidden goodnight and retired to seek their rest before the morrow's journey. Indeed, Kal anticipated that the celebration would continue for days after he and his people had bidden their final farewells and departed the sequestered peace of Nua Cearta and the fellowship of its folk.
Rumour had spread of Magan's own journey, a journey to the hammerfolk's homeland and of his suit for peace. In fact, it was common gossip that the king intended nothing less than the restoration of the Ancient Forge-throne to its rightful lord—Magan himself. The whispered hearsay seemed annealed into fact by the rapid mustering of forces for the Royal Guard ordered by the Throne only yesterday and also by the further bit of news, let slip from the unguarded tongue of a young captain to his beloved, that the Guard would march out from Nua Cearta not two weeks hence. All this, together with the fact that no effort had been made to quench the rumours, was reason more than enough to fire the hammerfolk's appetite for revelry and merriment.
Kal chuckled to himself as he leaned back upon his elbows and looked out to the far-flung steadings whose lights glittered like earthbound stars beneath the pitch-black void of the cavernous sky. Magan had surely kept at least half his word about the party—none finer had ever been seen. But if he were successful in his quest in the Burren Mountains . . . Well! The upperworld realms would shudder and quake from the riotous celebration that would then take place, rumbling below their very feet. Magan Hammermaster! Your present jollity will seem but a quaint and quiet dinner party—
"Kal?"
The Holdsman started from his musing and sat up.
"Kal? Is that you?"
A woman's voice drifted to h
im, floating on the music. Before he could turn, a hand came to rest on his shoulder.
"Marya!" Kal recognized the voice in that moment, even before he turned to look at her face.
"I thought I saw you leave. Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I simply needed to take some air." Kal scrambled to his feet and brushed the grass from his clothes. "Magan's graciousness this evening is a very rich repast—one can only enjoy so much before needing a brief respite to cleanse the palate."
Kal lifted his eyes. Before him stood a young woman. Her flaxen hair, dressed in flowers and sprigs of sweet herbs in the fashion of the Stoneholding, was wound in thick tresses, bound by ribbons, that met at the nape of her neck and flowed down her back. She wore a dress, beautifully made, the handiwork and gift of the hammerdaughters. The dress was elegant, full in the sleeve and in the skirt, the bodice following the gentle curve of the girl's waist and torso. And the fabric was of a blue so pure . . . Kal felt a shiver down his spine, and his stomach knotted. Her eyes were the same colour. He could not see them in the faltering light, but he knew the colour—the flax-flower blue, as if the upperworld sky had stooped to kiss the earth and left something of itself upon retreating to its rightful place.
"I-I . . . You look beautiful tonight. That's a lovely dress."
"Thank you, Kal." She held him in her gaze.
"I saw you the other morning . . . . In the courtyard, by the fountain. I was in my chamber. I saw you from the window. I-I'm sorry I didn't greet you."
Kal realized that he sounded sheepish, like a schoolboy fumbling in response to a question, and he chided himself for the artlessness of his words. He felt the awkwardness of that last meeting compounded in this one. He had ignored her, deliberately gone out of his way to avoid her these past weeks, though not for any lack of affection for her. Of that much he was sure.
"Is it true that you will not travel with the rest of us tomorrow?"
"Aye, Alcesidas has counseled that out of respect for my being Hordanu, it would be best for me to follow after the main body of the Holdsfolk to ensure the safety of the office. While Alcesidas assures us that his scouts have found no sign of immediate danger, he says he cannot know with certainty what threats may lie on the other side of the Radolan Mountains. Out of respect for his counsel and for his father, who agrees with him, I will obey his wish."
The young woman kept him fixed in her gaze. Strains of music from the great hall filled the silence left in the wake of their words.
"Marya—"
"Kal, why have you not spoken to me? You hold back from me. I thought we were . . . Have I done something to offend you, Kal?"
"Marya, come, let us sit down. There is a bench over there by that garden. Please, sit with me."
The two walked stiffly along a short path that led to an ornately crafted wrought-iron garden seat beside a neatly trimmed flower bed. Kal lifted his arm to place a hand on the young woman's back as they walked, but he thought better of it.
As they turned to sit down, Marya's face was caught in the glow from Sterenhall's windows. A tear stood poised and swollen, high on her cheek, then broke and traced its way to her chin. She quickly wiped it away with delicate fingers.
"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head gently and turning away from his gaze.
"No, Marya, it is I who am sorry." Kal paused and sighed, then shifted on the bench and faced her. He placed his hands palms up on his knees before himself. "May I?"
Marya nodded, and Kal took her hands in his.
"Marya, please forgive me. Please rest assured that you have done nothing, ever, that has caused me any offence. Quite the contrary. You have always and ever been a cause of great and abiding joy to me. I, however, have caused you offence. I have been self-absorbed and inconsiderate, neglecting you in a way which you could only interpret as my feeling disdain for you. Please know that there is nothing further from the truth." Kal paused and looked into her face.
"Oh, Kal, you have been worried, harried by so many concerns." Marya's voice was soft with emotion. Her words fell like heavy snowflakes tickling Kal's skin. She turned Kal's hand over in her own and stroked the back of it with her fingers, tracing the line of sinew and knuckle. He could feel his resolve slipping. "Even if we have not spoken, I have seen it in your eyes. You laugh with joyful voice, but your heart, your heart . . . And I fear, Kal, I fear what my heart tells me."
"It is true, Marya, it is true. I have been overwhelmed by the events of the past few weeks. We all have been. But I, I who was but a simple homespun Holdsman, aspiring to nothing more than being a wheelwright in my father's place, I have become Myghternos Hordanu, with none of the traditional glory of the office, but, instead, a greater portion of its burden of obligation and responsibility than is meet. Our world, as we ever knew it, has been turned upside down, and it will never be the same. But my world—well, it is almost beyond fathom. I have been very confused as of late, but something has been growing in clarity within my heart, as if I now begin to come to terms with who I am, and what I have become, and what I must do.
"But in my time of confusion, sadly, many have been hurt. Those closest to me in the worst ways. I have repaid the love of others with what I know must appear to be thoughtlessness, or worse, indifference.
"And you, dear Marya, may have borne the brunt of it. I honestly didn't know how to address . . . well, what to do about us. And so I simply ignored it. It was wrong of me, and I beg your forgiveness. Please, Marya, forgive me."
"Yes, Kal, of course I do. But, Kal, I need to know, do—"
"Do I love you?"
Marya nodded once, slowly.
"I had intended to ask Goodman Diggory this fall for your hand in marriage, and, were circumstances different, I would do so still. But now we come to the crux of it. Perhaps this has been the very reason for my hesitation to face you these past many days. Perhaps I feared to say what I now know I must. I have loved you, Marya. But now my love for you is an appetite I must not feed."
Marya stifled a sob and pulled her hands free from Kal's gentle grip, burying her face in them.
"Marya, I'm sorry. Again, I beg your forgiveness. I am Hordanu. I am Hordanu of all of Ahn Norvys, and as such there is much that I may not and, indeed, cannot determine for myself. My path goes out into a very strange world, and where it leads I know not, other than that it leads into sure and real danger. I have been summoned by the powers of providence, indeed, by the fateful voice of Wuldor himself, to attempt deeds that I fear may prove to be more dangerous than you or I could possibly imagine. And to wrest from the future's cold grip even the remotest chance of success in achieving great deeds demands great sacrifices. And chiefest of these, that taking most toll of me, is you, and my love for you. I go out on a quest from which I will likely not return. You must remain with the Holdsfolk. These are your people. They are no longer mine. I beg your forgiveness for this cruelty."
Kal leaned forward as he stood to leave and gently kissed Marya on the forehead, then whispered to her, "If you have loved me, love me no more."
Eight
The narrow passage rose at an even grade, its close darkness broken only by the gentle gleam of helm-lamp and filled with the sound of staggered footfalls and laboured breathing. Kal and Gwyn kept a close step behind Alcesidas. The two Holdsmen had followed him through the long tunnel that had originated in a hillside on the steading of Volodan the forgemaster, which lay deep in the borderlands of Nua Cearta.
Unlike the occasions of their journeys to and from the Cave of the Hourglass, there had been no steep pitches to scale, no narrow ledges to traverse, no fathomless pools to skirt, only a steady plodding climb. It was a straight-run passageway, hewn uniformly from the rock, without branching side paths to break the monotony of the lightless gloom. Like a tomb, the place had pressed on them with a feeling of confinement, in stark contrast to the brightness and beauty of the forgeland kingdom hidden in the heart of the mountain from which the tunnel led.
The tunnel broadened abruptly into a chamber. Alcesidas paused at the foot of a set of broad stone stairs. "We are nearly there," he said. In the feeble glow of the helm-lamps, Kal could discern that the stairs spanned the breadth of the chamber. On either side, the short flight of steps was flanked by a solid mass of stone that rose plumb to meet the square-hewn underside of Mount Thyus and ran to an unbroken stone face that blocked their path just beyond the top of the stairs. This was the end of the tunnel, and apparently a dead end.
"Come," the prince bade his companions as he turned and ascended the stairs to a landing, his helm-lamp pooling its light before him. They faced the rock wall. Its surface, at one time chiseled and worked to a smooth finish, was now cracked and fissured and marred by the heavy hammer strokes of hurried stonework. Alcesidas bent down and seized a protruding knob of stone.
"Let us shutter our helm-lamps and keep silent vigilance. Once the portal swings open, I shall make certain the way is clear. Follow me closely." Alcesidas remained stooped over, his hand on the knot of stone, and, as the lamps were shuttered, the place turned pitch-black. Kal heard a low rumbling. A faint light broke the darkness. One behind the other, the three inched through a narrow gap, their shoulders brushing against rock. They became visible to one another again as they stepped clear into a larger cavern. Shadow-ridden light filtered into the space weakly from an opening some fifty paces beyond. The opening was obscured by ragged, unworked pillars of stone that rose, tight-standing, from the hard rock floor to a roof that was half again as tall as the two Holdsmen. There was a sweetness to the air of the cave. Kal breathed deeply. They had reached the outside world at last.
Alcesidas put a finger to his lips and motioned to Kal and Gwyn, bidding them stand fast. Slowly, the hammerson prince stalked towards the light, creeping from pillar to pillar, until Kal and Gwyn could no longer see him. Then, after a few moments, he came into view again, walking towards them openly and in plain sight.
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