The Heirs of Hammerfell (16 page)

He remembered riding many leagues on it when he was very small, clinging to its

painted wooden neck; even now he could see where the paint had been worn away by

the grip of his small sweaty hands. He looked at the toy soldiers and laughed, wishing his mother had it in mind to try and bring

them to life and send them after him as armies. He did not doubt that she would if she could.

He remembered how often in his youth he would climb aboard the old rocking horse and head away northward―always northward―seeking, so he said― the way to

Hammerfell. Once he had nearly set the house afire with a pan of coals from the nursery hearth, after which he had been strictly forbidden to make anything but toast on the proper toasting-rack, but otherwise he had not been punished, because his tearful excuse had been, "I was trying to make clingfire, and burn down old Lord Storn's house the way he burned ours down."

Quickly he changed out of his fine holiday suit, getting into a plainer suit of clothes, and went downstairs, throwing an old cloak over his shoulders. Turning his back forever on his childhood.

Downstairs, he found a startling change; the remains of the refreshments had been cleared away, and his mother had changed from her festival gown into an old

technician's working robe, a simple long-sleeved tunic of pale green.

"Would there were more magic I could summon to go with you and guard your path, my son; but at least I can give you not only a magical mount, but a special guardian as well―Jewel shall go with you." They followed him into the stable-yard; the rain was dying down now to an occasional squall, Alastair could smell the freshness of the blowing wind, with ragged clouds showing occasional glimpses of one or I he other of the moons.

Erminie beckoned to the old dog Jewel; she sat holding out her starstone and looked long into the

dog's eyes, and Alastair had the curious sense that they were talking about him.

At last she said, "I thought at first to―I can give her human form if you wish; that is a simple enough magic; at least with a starstone. But she would be too old for a warrior, and it seems to me that in her natural form she would be more use as a guide. Even if I should change her to human shape, it would be only a seeming. She would still be a dog― she could not speak with you, and she would lose her keen hearing and sense of smell. At least as a dog, she can bite anyone who threatens you, while if she should do so as a human, it would―" Erminie hesitated and laughed. "It would be likely to provoke some remark."

"I should say so," said Alastair, bending to hug the old dog. "But does she know the way to Hammerfell?"

"You forget, my son, she was bred there; she can guide you there more dependably than any human guide. And she will warn you, too, if you promise me to listen to her."

"I am sure at least she would be more faithful and loyal than any other guide I might have," Alastair said, but secretly he wondered how his old dog could possibly warn him and how he would understand her if she did.

Erminie patted Jewel's head and said softly, "You love him just as much as I do; take care of him for me, my dear."

Jewel gazed up into Erminie's eyes so intently that Alastair was suddenly no longer skeptical; it was obvious to him that his mother and the dog were communicating more clearly than with words. He no

longer doubted that when the time came she would communicate with him, too.

He was not at all sorry to know that the dog who had been part of his life since he was an infant too young to remember was to share this adventure With him. "Well, is she to ride behind me on my saddle?"

All the telepaths there―and even Alastair who was not, really―heard to their surprise what was almost a voice.

Where he can ride, I can follow, running at his heels.

"Well―if you can do that, old girl, let's get going," Alastair said, astonished, and clambered into the saddle of Conn's sturdy, but now subtly different, little mountain-bred horse; he gazed into Jewel's eyes and for a moment it seemed almost that he was

speaking to the shadow of a woman warrior, like some of the Sisterhood of the Sword whom he had occasionally seen in town; almost a shadow hovering over Jewel. Did his mother's magic know no bounds? No matter― he must treat it as real. He straightened in his saddle, and bowed to his mother.

"All the Gods guard you, Mother."

"When will you come back, my son?"

"When my men―and my fate―will it," he said, and slowly walked the horse to the stable door. Once outside he dug his heels into the horse's flank; rough she might be, but she was a sturdy and a willing beast. Beneath his hand he felt her shudder, understanding, it almost seemed, the task before them.

They watched him ride through the little courtyard. Only Conn, who had been waiting in the hall, had the presence of mind to fling the huge spiked gate open; if he had not, it was clear that the horse,

now with powers far beyond those of natural creatures, would have leaped clear over it.

The horse passed through, already galloping, the dog loping noiselessly with magically youthful strength at his heels. The sound of the galloping in the street outside died away quickly. Erminie stood looking out the open gate, tears streaming down her face.

Conn said under his breath, "Damn, I wish he had taken me with him. What will Markos say?"

Valentine Hastur said moodily, "You raised a stubborn son, Erminie."

"Why do you not say what you truly think?" she answered with spirit, "and call him headstrong and thoroughly spoiled? But with Jewel to guide him, and Markos to support him, he will do well enough, I am certain."

"Whether or no," Edric said, "he is gone, and the Gods must protect him, or not, as his fate demands."

They went into the house; but as the remaining kinfolk departed, Conn stayed in the courtyard, his eyes questing restlessly along the road taken by his brother, ever north toward the faraway peaks of Hammerfell.

10

Alastair clung to the neck of Conn's horse, still hardly believing in the mission which had called him away from everything he had ever known. The rapid galloping beneath him held a soothing rocking motion and he thought of childhood days when he had

clung like this to the neck of his old rocking horse, rocking himself into a trance, frequently falling asleep on the horse's neck. He felt he could do so now, but if he did, he might wake to find this had all been no more than a bizarre dream and that he had fallen asleep at one of his mother's boring entertainments.

So swiftly he rode that before he knew it he had reached the gates of Thendara, and a voice challenged from the little guardhouse. "Who rides in the dark there, at this godforgotten hour when the city gates are shut and honest men within doors and abed?"

"As honest a man as yourself," said Alastair. "I am

Duke of Hammerfell, bound north on a mission that cannot wait for the daylight."

"So?"

"So open the gates, fellow; that's what you're here for, isn't it?"

"At this hour? Duke or no duke, these gates don't get opened till daybreak―not if you were the king himself."

"Let me speak to your sergeant, soldier."

"If I go an* wake up the sergeant, he'll only tell ye the same, Lord Hammerfell, and then he'll be angry wi' us both."

"I am not afraid of his anger, but I suppose you are," Alastair said. "It is a pity, but―-

Jewel, climb up behind me on my saddle."

He felt the old dog scramble up behind him, snuggling hard against his waist. He

muttered, "Hang on―I mean, balance yourself, old girl."

Had he forgotten how high the city gates were― fifteen, twenty feet? In the dreamy sorcerous state he was in, it never occurred to him to doubt the horse's powers. He felt the horse gather herself together for the leap, shouted to Jewel, "Hold on tight!" and felt the world fall away beneath him as they went up and up―it seemed to him that they vaulted halfway to the shining moon and that he could see its greenish crescent fall away behind him . . . they fell for what seemed hours, then he felt the horse strike earth as gently as if she had cleared a log, no more. Jewel slid from the saddle and was running behind him again, her footfalls silent on the uneven paving of the road.

He knew he was far outside the city, without any very clear idea of how he had come so far, so fast.

He raced on into the darkness, knowing that his horse―or his mother's magic―was

placing its feet unerringly with no possibility of a stumble.

Sometime before dawn he passed Hali, heard his horse's hooves ringing on the stones of Neskaya, and just as the dawn turned rosy in the east and the great crimson sun came up like a bloodshot eye, he saw the gleam of the River Kadarin flowing like molten metal before him. To his surprise, the mountain horse plunged into the flood and swam

smoothly, well-trained muscles breasting the waves like a sea creature, scrambling up smoothly at the far bank and resuming her swift stride without visible pause or

hesitation.

Behind him Alastair saw Jewel scramble from the water, running in a long, lean,

effortless lope at the horse's heels. He had crossed the Kadarin―two days north of the city―within a single night!

Now they were past the country he knew; he had never come so far into the hills. For a moment he wished he had his brother to lead him; but Jewel was his appointed guide.

Jewel! When had she last been fed? "Sorry, old girl," he said, "for a minute I'd forgotten about you." He stopped the horse in a wooded glen and dismounted, his knees trembling.

Inside a saddlebag he did not remember filling, he found an assortment of cold meats and bread, and a flagon of wine. He shared the meats with Jewel, and drank some of the wine; he offered some to Jewel, too, but she snorted, running off to drink deeply at a spring, then came back and curled up at his side, her head in his lap. He thought of remounting; but realized that although his horse and dog seemed fine, not even winded, he was trembling with fatigue, every muscle shaking as if he had been in the saddle not for the scant few hours between midnight and dawn but for the two days and nights it should have taken him to ride so far normally. Jewel and the horse might be magically untiring, but he was not.

He had no blankets and he was cold. He wrapped himself in his cloak, and beckoned Jewel to curl up close for warmth; she shook herself, scratched for a moment, then curled down into his arms. Under his body the dead leaves crackled and felt damp, but he was too tired to care. Just as it crossed his mind that he was too wound-up and uncomfortable to sleep, sleep took him and he fell stunned into exhaustion. He slept till the light slanting down through the trees wakened him. Then he ate a little more meat and bread, drank the last of the wine, and turned to Jewel, "It's your turn to guide now, old girl. From here on, I'll follow you."

It was like a dream; although he did not really know where he was going, his moves seemed predetermined; he knew that whichever path he chose he would arrive at the appointed place. It seemed dangerous to abandon himself that way, but this was magic, and nothing he did could change the outcome of this fantastic journey, so he held back to let the dog take the lead.

Before long, it began to rain hard. Alastair was forced to dismount, and while blundering in the rain, he all but stumbled into a great net which hung from the tops of the thick overhanging trees; Jewel was barking and sniffing at the bait; the stark body of a rabbit-horn, stripped of antlers and tusks. But what had it been baited for? Then Jewel began barking, running about in little circles and whining. He raised his head to see a most astonishing creature. It was a little man―or so it seemed; not taller than four feet, face and body amply thatched by thick dark hair; gnarled and thick-bodied. He spoke in an ancient form of the mountain language.

"Who be you? And what be that?" he demanded, staring at Jewel. "You have spoilt my trap; what amends will you make?"

Alastair looked at the little creature, wondering if he were being confronted with some goblin out of legend. The little man seemed hardly aware of the heavy pouring rain. He was, however, wary of Jewel; he edged backward as she sniffed at his bare feet.

Alastair was dumbfounded, but he had, after all, been brought up on tales of the strange creatures, not all human, who dwelt in the lands across the Kadarin. Well, they had certainly lost no time in making themselves known to him!

"You are one of the Big Folk," said the little creature; perhaps you are harmless; but what is that?"

He indicated Jewel, with a strange look of misgiving; Alastair said, "I am Alastair, Duke of Hammerfell; and this is my dog Jewel."

"I do not know dog," said the little man, "Is she― what kind of being is dog? Why does she not speak?"

"Because she cannot; it is not her nature," said Alastair. He did not suppose he would have much luck trying to explain pet; but something of the concept must have been clear to the little man, who said, "Oh, I see; she is like my tame cricket, and she thinks some danger threatens her master; tell her, if you can, that no danger threatens either of you."

"It's all right, old girl," Alastair said, though he

was not altogether sure of that. Jewel whined a little, but subsided. Alastair mustered his courage and asked, "Who are you?"

The little man answered, "I am Adastor-Leskin, of the Nest of Shiroh; what is that?"

With frank curiosity he pointed at Alastair's horse. Alastair could not be sure the little man did not mean to rob him, but he explained what a horse was as best he could, and the little man appeared delighted.

"How many strange things I am seeing today! I will be the envy of all my clan! Still there is the matter of a trap between us; you have broken mine; what amends will you make?"

Alastair had decided to abandon himself to whatever strange fate had brought this adventure to him.

"I cannot mend your trap," he said, "I do not have the proper tools, and I do not understand the art of its making,"

"I would not ask it," said the little man. "Do as I would ask of a traveler of my own kind who inadvertently trespassed; give me of your best riddle."