The Heirs Of Hammerfe

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  "From here we walk," he whispered. "There may be some of his guards around, and they had better not see us."

  "Oh. Right," he said, hearing what Markos did not say; the fewer he had to kill, the better for everyone. Storn's men were obeying orders and were not entirely responsible for what they must do-too much sympathy for the lordless Hammerfell tenants and they would share their fate. Neither Conn nor Markos had much taste for needless killing.

  Silently, each man passed the whispered message to the one behind him, and the little party skirted the village, now leading their horses. Then the word ran to hold where they were, and be silent. Conn stood alone in the dark, feeling that his very breathing, the thumping of his heart must be audible to the people in the clustered cottages below.

  But the cottages were almost all dark; only one of the ten or twelve had a light in the window. Conn wondered why-some oldster drowsing by the fire, a mother watching by a sick child, an elderly parent awaiting the return of a benighted traveler, a midwife at her work?

  He waited, silent and motionless, the sword just loosened in its scabbard. Tonight I am truly Hammerfell, he thought. Father, wherever you are, I hope you know I am caring for your people.

  Suddenly, from one of the cottages below, a wild yell rang out, and fire sprang up wildly through the storm-laden sky above the roofs; one of the build-

 

  ings blazed up like a torch. There was screaming and confusion.

  "Now!" Markos gave a terse command, and Conn's party hurled themselves onto their mounts and raced down the hill, screaming their outrage. Conn notched his how at the dark armed figures slipping round the houses with other torches in their hands. An arrow flew; one of the torchbearers fell without a cry. Conn filled another arrow. Now women and children and a few elderly and feeble men were coming out of the cottages, staggering, half asleep, crying out in confusion and in pain. Another of the cottages blazed up, and then Conn's party rode into the melee, yelling like wild beasts and shooting arrows at the men of Storn who were burning out the village.

  Conn bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Lord Storn! Are you here, or did you send your minions to do your dirty work and sit safe home by your own fireside this night? What do you say, Lord Storn?"

  A long delay, with only the crackling of flames and the wailing of terrified children; then a stern voice called out.

  "I am Rupert of Storn; who dares take me to task for what 1 must do? These wretched folk have been told again and again to vacate their houses; I do not do this unprovoked. Who challenges my right to do as I will on my own lands?"

  "These are not Storn lands," yelled Conn, "they are the rightful lands of Hammerfell! I am Conn, Duke of Hammerfell, and you may do your dirty work all you will at Storn, if your folk will allow it, but touch my tenants at your peril! Fine work this for a man-waning on women and little children still unbreched! Aye, and a few old gaffers! How brave

 

  are the men of Storn, when there are no menfolk to say them nay or protect the women and babes!"

  A long silence. Then a reply came.

  "I had heard that the wolf cubs of Hammerfell died in the fire that wiped out that accursed line. What upstart makes this lying claim?"

  Markos whispered in Conn's ear, "Rupert is Storn's nephew and heir."

  "Come forth if you dare," retorted Conn, "and I will prove to you that I am Hammerfell, prove it on your worthless carcass!"

  "I do not fight with imposters and unknown bandits," replied Rupert's voice from the darkness. "Ride away as you came and cease to meddle with my people. These lands are mine and no nameless bandit shall inter-" The words choked off in a yell of pain and ended in a horrible spluttering sound; it was followed by a horrified screech of despair and rage. Farren's arrow, winging noiselessly out of the dark, had torn out Rupert's throat.

  Markos shouted, "Now will ye come out and fight like men?"

  There was a terse low-voiced command and Conn's men rushed at the Storn party in the shadows; the fight was bloody and brief. Conn cut down someone who rushed at him with a pike, fought briefly with a second man who seemed to melt away in front of him, then Markos gripped his arm in a grasp of iron and dragged him away.

  "On to your horse; they've had enough, and no more heart for their dirty work this night. See, they're loading Rupert, or what's left of him, on the horse ... no more; they're gone," Markos said. And as' Conn, breathing hard and feeling faintly sick, let

 

  Markos urge him into his saddle, the women and children, wearing the nightgear in which they had turned out of their beds, crowded round his horse in the snow.

  "Is it really the young duke?"

  "Hammerfell's come back to us!"

  "Our own young prince."

  They crowded close, kissing his hands, weeping, pleading.

  "Now those bandits of Storn won't be able to turn us away . . ." one old lady said, holding up a torch she had snatched from one of Storn's vanished men. "You're the image of your father, dear lad-my lord," she amended quickly.

  Conn stammered, "My people-I thank you for your welcome. I pledge to you-from this day there'll be no more burnings if I can prevent it. And no more war on women and babies."

  "Aye," Markos muttered when at least they rode away silently into the night, "the hawk's loosed now from the block. From this day, lad-" he broke off, "No, you're no lad now-my lord, from this night they'll know there's a Hammerfell in these woods. I'd say you'd blooded your father's sword wi' honor this night."

  And Conn knew he had taken up a challenge in a just cause. It was for this that he had lived in hiding all these years with Markos; it was for this that he had been born.

 

  7

  On the night of the full moons, Edric Elhalyn celebrated the eighteenth birthday of his youngest daughter Floria, at the Thendara palace of the Elhalyns. Among the guests were King Aidan and Queen Antonella, and as Edric had promised, during a break in the dancing, he came to where Floria and young Alastair of Hammerfell were seated together, talking and quietly sipping a cold drink.

  "I trust you are enjoying yourself, my dear," he said to his daughter.

  "Oh, yes, Father! It is the most beautiful party ever. . . ."

  "I am afraid I must interrupt you for the space of a dance or two. Alastair, as I promised you, I spoke to King Aidan-His Grace is eager to meet you. Please come with me."

  Alastair made his apologies to Floria, then rose and followed Lord Elhalyn across the room through

 

  the dancing couples and into an adjacent chamber, elegantly fitted with dark woods and hung with silken panels.

  Seated in one of the elaborately upholstered chairs was a surprisingly small white-haired man; he was richly dressed and seemed bent with age, but the eyes he raised to them were focused and keen. He said, in a voice unexpectedly deep and strong, "Young Hammerfell?"

  "Majesty," said Alastair, bowing low.

  "Never mind that," said King Aidan Hastur, holding out his hand and waving Alastair to take a seat, "I know your mother; a charming lady; I have heard much about her from my cousin Valentine. He is, I think, eager to be your stepfather, young man, but he could not tell me what it is I really wish to know- about this blood feud which has all but wiped out both of these two mountain kingdoms. What can you tell me? How and when did it begin?"

  "I do not know, sir," Alastair said. It was hot in the room, and he began to feel sweat trickling down inside his silken tunic. "My mother speaks of it but little; she said my father himself was not sure of its true cause and origin. I know only that my father and brother died when the armies of Storn burned Hammerfell over our heads."

  "And even the street-singers in Thendara know that much," King Aidan said. "Some of these mountain lords have grown too arrogant for their own good; this challenges the peace we have won at such a price beyond the Kadarin. They think the Aldarans their overlords, and we are still at war with the Aldarans."

  He scowled and
considered, "Tell me, young man;

 

  if I should help you to recover Hammerfell, would you be willing to be faithful vassal and lord under the Hasturs and fight for me if need came against the Aldarans?" As Alastair was about to speak, King Aidan interrupted, "No, don't answer at once; go home and think about it." He added: "Then come and tell me what you have decided. I need loyal men in the Hellers; otherwise, the Domains will be torn with war as they were in Varzil's day. And that would not be good for any of us. So go back to the party now, and in two days or three, when you have thought this through, come back and see me." He nodded and smiled to him pleasantly, then averted his eyes, an obvious indication that the audience had come to an end.

  Lord Edric touched his shoulder; Alastair backed away, turned, and followed the older man out of the room. Go away and think, the king had said, but could there be any question what he should do? His first and only duty was the recovery and rebuilding of his home and his clan. If the price of that was loyalty to the Hastur kings, surely he could pledge that much.

  Or could he? Was he giving up power which rightfully belonged to Hammerfell and to the mountain lords of the Hellers? Could he truly trust Aidan or any Hastur king? Or would the price paid be too high for royal favor and King Aidan's help in recovering his lands?

  When he returned to where he had been talking with Floria, she was gone; across the room he could see the flash of the glittering gems in her pale hair. She was dancing a ring-dance with a dozen other girls and young men; absurdly he felt angry and jealous. She could have waited for him.

 

  It was not long before she came back, rosy and flushed from the exercise, and he could hardly keep himself from pulling her into his arms. Being a telepath, of course, she caught the impulse to which he did not give way, and blushed, smiling a smile so radiant that he might as well have kissed her. She whispered, "What happened, Alastair?"

  He said, almost whispering, "I spoke with the king, and he has promised me his aid to recover Hammer-fell." He did not mention his part of the bargain.

  She cried out, sharing his joy, "Oh, how wonderful!" And all through the room heads turned to look at her. She blushed again, and laughed a little.

  "Well, whatever may come of it, we have made ourselves conspicuous; thanks be to Evanda we are under my own father's roof," she said practically. "Or there would be a scandal from here to-to Hammerfell."

  "Floria," he said, "surely you know that when I am restored, the first thing I shall do is to speak to your father-"

  "I know it," she said, almost in a whisper, "and I am as eager for that day as you." And for just a few seconds she was in his arms, kissing his lips so lightly that a minute afterward he hardly knew if it had happened or if he had dreamed it.

  She let him go and reluctantly he came back to the ordinary world.

  "We had better dance," she said. "Quite enough people are looking at us already."

  His doubts and qualms had evaporated; with Floria as the reward he felt ready to pledge to whatever King Aidan wanted.

  "I suppose so," he said. "I do not want your brother

 

  picking another quarrel with me; one feud at a time is enough."

  "Oh, he would not; not when you are a guest beneath our father's roof," Floria assured him, but Alastair looked skeptical; he had forced a quarrel when Alastair was a guest in their father's box at the concert hall, so why not beneath his father's roof?

  They moved out on the dance floor, his fingers just touching the silk at her waist.

  Far to the north, Conn of Hammerfell all but cried out, disoriented. The woman's face, the touch of his hands, the warmth of her body under the silk, the almost-memory of her lips fleetingly against his own . . . he overflowed with emotion. His dream-woman again, and the blazing lights, the richly clad people whose like he had never seen . . . what had come over him? What had happened to him, that this lovely woman companioned him so closely now night' and day?

  Alastair blinked, and Floria asked gently, "What is it?"

  "I hardly know-I was dizzy for a moment," he said, "dizzied with you, no doubt-but for a moment it seemed I was far from here, in a place I have never seen."

  "But you are a telepath, surely; perhaps you picked up something from someone who is to be part of your life; if not now, sometime in the future," she said.

  "But I am not a telepath, not much," he said. "I have not even enough laran to be worth training, so my mother has told me-what makes you think that?"

  "Your red hair; it is usually a mark of laran."

 

  "Not in my case," he said, "for I was born a twin; and my brother, so my mother said, was the one with laran." He saw the troubled look on her face and asked, "Does it mean so much to you?"

  "Only-it is one more thing we might have shared," she said, "but I love just as you are." She blushed and said, "But you must think me bold, to speak so frankly before it has been settled between our parents. . . ."

  "I could never think anything but good of you," he said fervently, "and I know that my mother will welcome you as a daughter."

  The music came to an end, and he said, "I should go and tell my mother of my good fortune-our good fortune. Another thing," he asked, suddenly reminded by his mention of his mother, "do you know of a good dog breeder in the city?"

  "A-dog breeder?" she asked, wondering what he meant by the sudden change in direction.

  "Yes; my mother's dog is very old now. I want to find her a puppy so that when Jewel goes at last where all good dogs must go, Mother will not be left alone-especially now I shall have to be out of the city a great deal."

  "What a good idea!" Floria exclaimed, involuntarily warmed by his care for his mother's happiness. "Yes; I know where my brother Nicolo buys his hunting dogs; tell him I sent you and he will find you a good house pet for your mother." And she thought, See how kind and good he is, to be so thoughtful of his mother. He will surely be good to his wife as well.

  He asked, hesitating, "Will you ride with me tomorrow?"

  She smiled at him and said, "I should like it very

 

  much; but I cannot. I have been in the city for five tendays awaiting a place in the Tower; and I have finally been asked to be monitor in Renata Aillard's circle, and I must go tomorrow to be tested.

  Through his disappointment Alastair felt curiosity; although his mother had been a Tower worker since his childhood, he knew really very little about it.

  "I did not know women were allowed to be Keepers," he said.

  "They are not," Floria said. "Renata is an emmasca; born so. Her mother is of Hastur blood, and many of that line are born emmasca, man or woman as they may choose. It is sad; but it opens to her the work of a Keeper and perhaps some day real women "may be allowed such work. It is very dangerous for women; I think I would rather not attempt it myself."

  "I would not have you run into danger," Alastair said fervently.

  And she said, "I shall be finished, and know if I am accepted for the circle by noon; then, if you wish, we shall go and choose a puppy for your mother."

  "Accepted? But I thought you already had a place in the circle-"

  "Yes; but it is very important for all the workers in a circle to be acceptable to one another; if there is anyone in the circle who feels he or she cannot work with me, then I shall have to wait again for a place. I have met Renata and I like her very much; and I think I am acceptable to her. But tomorrow I shall be tested to see if the others can work with me."

  "If there is anyone who dares to refuse you, I will declare war on him!" said Alastair, only half in jest,

 

  and beneath the joking tone she sensed his seriousness and took his hands in hers.

  "No," she said. "You do not understand these things, since you are not a trained telepath. Please promise me that you will not do anything rash or foolish."

  The music had ended, and they moved to the edge of the dancing floor. She said, "Now I m
ust dance with my other guests-though I would rather stay with you."

  "Oh, why must we do what others desire just because it is the custom? I am sick to death of the 'proper way to do this' and the 'proper way to do that'!"

  "Oh, Alastair, don't talk like that! I have been taught that we were not sent here to do our own will, but to do our duty to our people and our family. You are Duke of Hammerfell; a day may well come when-as is right-your duty to Hammerfell may have to come before our pledges to one another."

  "Never!" he vowed.

  "Don't say that! A private man may make such pledges, but a prince or a duke, a lord with responsibilities, may not." Inwardly she felt troubled, but thought: He is young, he has had too little training for his post; he was educated in exile, not schooled to the responsibility of his birth.

  "It is only that I cannot bear to leave you," he said. "Please stay with me."

  "My dear, I cannot. Please understand."

  "Whatever you say," he said morosely and gave her his arm, conducting her silently to her kinswomen-among whom, he noticed with an instant of awe, was Queen Antonella, smiling a bland and vacant smile.

 

  The queen said, in the curiously strident voice of the hard-of-hearing, "At last; we have been waiting for you, my dear. But I think I do not know your young escort."

  "He is the son of the Duchess of Hammerfell; Erminie, Second Technician in Edric of Elhalyn's circle," said Floria in her gentle voice, so softly that Alastair wondered how the deaf old lady could hear. Then he remembered that she was surely a telepath and could understand what Floria said, though not in spoken words.

  "Hammerfell," she said in her rusty voice, nodding blandly to him. "A pleasure, young man; your mother is a fine woman; I know her well."

  Alastair felt gratified; recognition in one evening first from the king, now from the queen was more than he had hoped for. A young man Alastair did not know came up and claimed Floria for a dance, and Alastair, bowing to Queen Antonella, who returned the salutation most graciously, went in search of his mother.

  He found Erminie in the conservatory examining the profuse flowers; she turned as he came in and said, "My dear boy, why are you not dancing?"