Like great silver fish leaping up into the bowl of night, the ships
of the Valkyr fleet rose from Kalgan. Within the pulsing hulls five
thousand warriors rode, ready for battle. Against the mighty forces
of the assembled star-kings, the army of Valkyr counted for almost
nothing; but the savage fighting men of the Edge carried with them
their talisman--Alys Imperatrix, uncrowned sovereign of the Galaxy,
Heiress to the Thousand Emperors--the daughter of their beloved
warrior-prince, Gilmer, conqueror of Kaidor.
[Illustration: _Like great silver fish leaping up into the bowl of
night, the ships of the Valkyr fleet rose from Kalgan_....]
In the lead vessel, Nevitta dogged the harried Navigators, urging
greater speed. Below decks, the war chargers snorted and stomped the
steel decks, sensing the tension of the coming clash in the close,
smoky air of the spaceships.
Kieron stood beside the forward port with Alys, looking out into the
strangely distorted night of space. As speed increased, the stars
vanished and the night that pressed against the flanks of the hurtling
ship grew grey and unsteady. Still velocity climbed, and then beyond
the great curving glass screen there was nothing. Not blackness, or
emptiness. A soul-chilling nothingness that twisted the mind and
refused to be accepted by human eyes. Hyperspace.
Kieron drew the draperies closed and the observation lounge of the huge
ancient liner grew dim and warm.
"What's ahead, Kieron?" the girl asked with a sigh. "More fighting and
killing?"
The Valkyr shook his head. "Your Imperium, Your Majesty," he said
formally, "a crown of stars that a thousand generations have gathered
for you. That lies ahead."
"Oh, Kieron! Can't you forget the Empire for the space of an hour?"
Alys demanded angrily.
The Warlord of Valkyr looked at his Empress in perplexity. There were
times when women were hard to fathom.
"Forget it, I say!" the girl cried, her eyes suddenly flaming.
"If Your Majesty wishes, I'll not speak of it again," said Kieron
stiffly.
Alys took a step toward him. "There was a time when you looked at me as
a woman. When you _thought_ of me as a woman! Am I so different now?"
Kieron studied her slim body and sensuously patrician face. "There was
a time when I thought of you as a child, too. Those times pass. You
are now my Empress. I am your vassal. Command me. I'll fight for you.
Die for you, if need be. Anything. But by the Seven Hells, Alys, don't
torture me with favors I can't claim!"
"So I must command, then?" She stamped her foot angrily. "Very well, I
command you, Valkyr!"
"Lady, I'll never be a Consort!"
The girl's face flushed. "Did I ask it? I know I can't make a lapdog
out of you, Kieron."
"Stop it, Alys," Kieron muttered heavily.
"Kieron," she said softly, "I've loved you since I was a child. I love
you now. Does that mean nothing to you?"
"Everything, Alys."
"Then for the space of this voyage, Kieron, forget the Empire. Forget
everything except that I love you. Take what I offer you. There is no
Empress here...."
* * * * *
The silver fleet speared down into the atmosphere of the mother planet.
Earth lay beneath them like a globe of azure. The spaceships fanned out
into a wedge as they split the thin cold air high above the sprawling
megalopolis of the Imperial City.
The capital lay ringed about with the somnolent shapes of the
star-kings' great armada. Somewhere down there, Kieron knew, Freka
waited. Freka the Unknown. The unkillable? Kieron wondered. For weapons
he had his sword and a little knowledge. He prayed it would be enough.
It had to be. Five thousand warriors could not defeat the assembled
might of the star-kings.
Shunning the spaceport, Kieron led his fleet to a landing on the grassy
esplanade that surrounded the city. As the hurried debarkation of men
and horses began, Kieron could see a cavalry force massing before the
gates to oppose them. He cursed and urged his men to greater speed.
Horses reared and neighed; weapons glinted in the late afternoon
sunlight.
Within the hour the debarkation was complete, and Kieron sat armed and
mounted before the serried ranks of his warriors. The afternoon was
filled with the flash of steel and the blazing glory of gonfalons as he
ordered his ranks for battle ... a battle that he hoped with all his
heart to avoid.
Across the plain, the Valkyr could make out the pennon of Doorn in the
first rank of the advancing defenders. Kieron ordered Nevitta to stay
by the Empress in the rear ranks and to escort her forward with all
ceremony if he called for her.
Alys rode a white charger and had clad herself in the panoply of a
Valkyr warrior maid. Her hips were girded in a harness of linked steel
plates, her long legs free to ride astride. Over her chest and breasts
was laced a hauberk of chain mail that shimmered in the slanting
sunlight. On her head a Valkyr's winged helmet--and from under it
her golden hair fell in cascades of light to her shoulders. A silver
cloak stood out behind her as she galloped past the ranks of Valkyrs,
and they cheered her as she went. Kieron, watching her, thought she
resembled the ancient war-goddess of his own world--imperious, regal.
With a cry, Kieron ordered his riders forward and the glittering ranks
swept forward across the esplanade like a turbulent wave, spear-heads
agleam, gonafalons fluttering. He rode far ahead, seeking a meeting
with old Eric of Doorn, his father's friend.
He signalled, and the two surging masses of warriors slowed as the
two star-kings rode to a meeting between the armies. Kieron raised an
open right hand in the sign of truce and old Eric did likewise. Their
caparisoned chargers tossed their heads angrily at being restrained and
eyed each other with white-rimmed eyes.
Kieron drew rein, facing the old star-king.
"I greet you," he said formally.
"Do you come in friendship, or in war?" asked Eric.
"That will depend on the Empress," Kieron replied.
The lord of Doorn smiled, and there was scorn on his face. He was
remembering Kalgan and Kieron's reluctance. "You will be pleased
to know, then, that the Imperial Ivane bids you enter her city in
peace--so that you may do her homage and throw yourself on her mercy
for your crimes against Kalgan."
Kieron gave a short, steely laugh. So Ivane had already learned of the
Valkyr sack of Kalgan. "I do not know any 'Imperial Ivane,' Eric," he
said coldly. "When I spoke of the Empress, I meant the true Empress,
Alys, the daughter of your lord and mine, Gilmer of Kaidor." He
signalled Alys and Nevitta forward.
The gonfalons of the Valkyr line dipped in salute as Alys trotted
through the ranks. She drew rein, facing the amazed Eric.
"Noble lady!" he gasped. "We were told you were dead!"
"And so I might have been, had Ivane had her way!"
The old star-king stammered in confusion. There was more here than
he could understand. Only a week before, he and the other star-kings
had done homage to Ivane and hailed her as their savior from the
oppressions of the Emperor Toran, and the nearest living kin to the
late Gilmer. And now...!