Bridge of Swords

by Duncan Lay

  ‘Of course!’ Rhiannon twirled off towards their room and Huw felt another stirring of unease. He had enjoyed having Rhiannon to himself.

  His disquiet grew as he stepped outside. The rain had died and it was not a cold night, but there were plenty of clouds out and almost no light, beyond that thrown from the fires in the village huts. He was also horribly aware he had no tracking skills to speak of, and the chance of finding an elf, in the dark, in the woods, was roughly the same as King Ward giving up the crown and deciding to spend the rest of his life handing out food to the poor. But what an elf could do for his people was too important to just give up.

  Beyond the lights of the village it was almost pitch-black, and he edged forwards, tripping and slipping almost every pace, calling out for the elf and knowing he must look like the world’s biggest fool to anyone watching. But he had been called fool before, many times, by his fellow villagers and he refused to let that stop him.

  He did not know how long he spent out there, splashing through muddy puddles, searching desperately and calling hopefully. The elf did not answer. He tripped and fell yet again and tiredly got to his feet. The lights of the village were faint behind him and he had to accept he was not going to find the elf. He thumped the trunk of a nearby tree in anger. He had been so close! An elf could have been the answer. Wearily he turned back to the village, feeling the bitter pang of despair more than the aches and pains of stubbed toes and battered elbows and knees.

  In the morning they would travel back to his father’s village, as planned. His father would know what to do. It would have been wonderful to get elven help, for Vales really needed a hero. But this was a mystery that would never be answered.

  King Ward of Forland looked out across Cridianton and took a breath of sweet morning air. Watching the city come alive in the morning, seeing what he had created, made everything feel right with the world. It was the perfect way to begin the day. The kings of Forland, even his own grandfather, had been happy enough to let things go on as they had for hundreds of years, content to occupy themselves with hunting and whoring and drinking. Ward’s father had disliked hunting and, while drinking had some appeal and whoring was always diverting, needed something more from the crown.

  He was a keen student of history and had read every book on the shelf in Cridianton’s library and he encouraged his son, Ward, to do the same. Both came to the same conclusion — men had fallen and needed to rise once more.

  The elves had brought civilisation, culture and grace to these human lands but, when they shut themselves away, humans had regressed. Knowledge that had once been commonplace among the human lands was forgotten, or diminished. But there were pockets of learning, places where skills were kept alive, passed down from father to son and guarded jealously. Somehow they needed to bring those together. If men were to rise, they needed to seek out knowledge and learning, needed to pool their ideas.

  Ward’s father, Avery, had begun. He hired stonemasons from Balia to build the walls and the castle of Cridianton, invited thinkers and planners and healers from Landia, sent emissaries to all lands with questions about building, medicine, farming and myriad other subjects that could change men’s lives.

  But, after early success, he found his approaches rebuffed and other countries refusing to share their nuggets of knowledge. Many feared Forland, the largest country by far, amassing such a treasure-trove of ideas. Avery had died disappointed, his dream unrealised.

  Ward had taken the throne determined to see his father’s vision come true — in a different way. If countries would not share their knowledge in a spirit of brotherhood, he would take it from them. Only together could men rise — under one ruler. It was for their own good — they were just too foolish to see it. All men would thank him, one day.

  Besides, history showed him that great advances could be made in war. It brought fresh thinking and new ideas — all the things he wanted. So he trained and worked his armies — and then sent them out to bring the knowledge to him, by force. It was a long process, and the other countries were stubborn. But they could not stand against the Forlish armies.

  Breconia, with its skills of woodworking, was his within two years. Nevland, with its farming machines and knowledge of crops and agriculture, was the next to follow. But it was not enough. On he pushed, into Balia and Landia, while already planning for a seaborne invasion of the Skilly Isles to his west.

  Of course this did not come without some hardship, and higher taxes at home. Rumblings of dissent at these necessary measures to fund the wars were swiftly stamped out.

  But he was not deaf and blind to the unrest. So he decided to show his people the benefits this new enlightenment would provide. He built bathhouses in the city, along the lines of the Balian ones, hosted plays and created statues, like the Landish. The entertainers who kept his court amused were the perfect example of what life would eventually be like. The elves had given mankind a legacy of ideas, but had left them scattered across the continent. He would concentrate them in the one place and then all could benefit. He was sure of it. It would be a better world, under his rule. Certainly there had to be sacrifices made. He had not wanted to enslave other nations but such an ambitious program of empire building needed cheap labour and what was cheaper than slaves? They may not thank him but their sons and daughters would, when they saw what they had built.

  He looked down, seeing yet another stone building taking shape in the town below. The walls were covered in a fine tracery of wooden scaffolding, like a spider’s web, and, even at this early hour, men were thick on its walls, carrying stones to raise the walls. They would die and vanish into history but the stone building they were making would live on. Just like the name of the king who ordered it built, Ward thought with satisfaction.

  Nothing great came without effort, without struggle, but he was feeling the size of the problems facing him. He looked north, to an annoyance that was spoiling his grand vision. He had never bothered with Vales before, for it was no threat to him. But his hand was being forced. He would have to deal with the Velsh, for the good of all mankind. They would also thank him for it, one day.

  And as for the elves … that was his real dream. He had tried to study the elven histories as best he could. Not the tales that amused the children but the real story of what happened when the elves left the world and withdrew behind their magical barrier. There were few details and surprisingly little he trusted. And certainly no contact since that day. Any humans who had tried to enter the forests around Dokuzen had never returned, until the tales grew to the point where none were willing to take the risk.

  Except Ward was not planning to ride there with a few drunken friends. When he rode north it would be at the head of his army, to take for himself what legend said was their greatest secret — immortality. He had read about it in an obscure scroll from Breconia. Elves living an endless life, still young when the grandchildren of the first humans who had met them were bowed with age. That was the real goal. No wonder they had hidden themselves away, rather than risk the humans finding such a prize. But he would not find it — he would take it.

  Not only would his name live forever, he would live forever!

  It was a seed that had grown within him, was beginning to consume him. He had ruled for many years and could feel the sands running out of his life’s glass. Every night he had to get up every few turns of the hourglass to have a piss. No matter how many young women came to his bed, he could not stop the thought he was somehow becoming less than a man.

  And who would carry on his life’s work if he died? His two sons were fools, caring only for conquest and slaughter. They could not see how he planned to rebuild. They longed only to destroy. Sometimes he feared that only through Dokuzen could his vision come true.

  ‘Sire?’ A nervous voice interrupted his thoughts.

  He turned and his sense of peace and impending triumph faded instantly.

  ‘Where is she?’ Ward asked softly, ominously.


  ‘I do not know, sire,’ Hector admitted, trying not to show his fear. ‘The room was locked from the inside and, when we broke the door down, a bag of clothes was missing, as was my ring.’

  ‘So what are you saying? An elf magically made her disappear?’ Ward asked sardonically.

  ‘No, sire. Someone has kidnapped her, forced her to go with them …’

  ‘Who?’

  Hector gulped. ‘A search of the castle has revealed one other performer is missing. Hugh of Browns Brook.’

  ‘So they were having an affair and have disappeared together, eh?’ Ward’s only outward show of emotion was a clenched fist, but Hector could feel cold sweat trickling down his back. Fear and anger were warring within him. He had worked so hard, sacrificed so much, to get himself to this position. Now, at the moment of his triumph, a foolish boy and his idiotic daughter might have ruined everything for him.

  ‘No, sire! This Hugh has tricked her somehow — with your permission, I will take a squad of men and get her back. They cannot have much of a lead and anyway, we know where they are going. We can be at Browns Brook right behind them,’ Hector promised. ‘She will be unspoilt still, for I have told her never to lie with a man unless I give permission.’

  Ward did not move for what seemed like an age, before nodding his approval.

  ‘I have many other things on my mind but, for your daughter, I am willing to go to a little effort. Talk to my castellan. He shall give you a squad of men. Travel to Browns Brook and bring her back. As for the lovesick Hugh, I want him back here as well. Although you don’t have to be too gentle about it, I want him alive — so he can understand what I am going to do to him.’

  ‘At once, sire!’ Hector bowed low.

  The chamber of the Elven Council was a glorious confection of marble, a testament to the finest work of the best craftsmen in Dokuzen. Soaring arched windows revealed wonderful views of the city and the wooded hills beyond. Tall wooden doors, intricately carved, pointed the way to an enormous wooden table, around which thirteen seats were arrayed. Beyond that were simple, yet carved and decorated benches, where more than a hundred elves could sit and watch and listen to the wisdom of the Elven Council. But for now the galleries were empty; there were just two figures in the whole of the huge, echoing chamber.

  Jaken, leader of the Tadayoshi clan, took his seat carefully. He had devoted his whole life to one goal — attaining power for himself and his clan. Clan Kaneoki had held the position of Elder Elf for the last three centuries. Thanks to his work, that dominance was finally under threat. Now he faced a difficult choice. He could explain everything, throw himself on the mercy of his fellow councillors and their leader, the Elder Elf, and almost certainly keep control of his clan. But the price would be steep. His power and influence would be broken and clan Tadayoshi, rather than being the main challenger for the position of Elder Elf, would instead become beholden to the Elder Elf. No more could he push to ensure his supporters were officers in the Council Guard and Border Patrol, no more would he arrange for those he trusted to be chosen for important posts such as tax collectors and mine overseers. Instead he would have to beg for scraps from the Elder Elf and be pathetically grateful for anything that came his way. His clan would take generations to recover fortune and position.

  Or he could gamble for it all. Tell the Elder Elf only part of the story, use the rest of the information for his own ends and make a play for complete control of the Council. Of course, if it failed, he would lose everything. There was every chance his clan would be expelled from the Council, forced to become esemono or worse.

  After what he had read, it was no choice. At stake would be not just the power and glory of Dokuzen but dominion over every land. Much of the scroll his son had found was obviously lies but he had found fascinating nuggets of truth. The first was that Tadayoshi had once ruled the elves and been approved by the forefathers themselves. That meant he had every right to act now. Secondly, the barrier was meant to keep the elves in Dokuzen, not the humans out of Dokuzen. And they would be right to fear an elven army with Jaken at its head! He found it ironic such a truth had come from a forgotten elf called Sendatsu, the same name as his son. This Sendatsu had certainly proved more use than his idiot boy.

  He blamed Noriko, his wife, for making Sendatsu soft. No matter what he had tried to do to the child, he had never become the ruthless warrior Jaken needed. Certainly he had shown ability with blade, bow and bare hands but never the spine to go with it. Devoting himself to children — what honour was there in such a life? The two brats were at his home now, wailing their eyes out, despite Noriko’s best efforts to keep them happy. Another distraction he did not need. But they would have their uses. He would see they were raised properly.

  ‘A sad day, Lord Jaken.’ Daichi, the Elder Elf, the leader of the Elven Council and the nominal head of the elven people, took his seat with equal care. ‘I assume you have called me here to announce you shall withdraw from the Council and your position as clan leader due to the shame brought on you by your son’s actions …’

  ‘Not at all!’ Jaken said harshly. ‘My duty to my clan and to the Council takes precedence. Without me, disaster will befall our people. That is what I am here to talk about.’

  Daichi had not achieved his position by letting his face betray his thoughts. But even his years of practice could not help him here. He had never been close to the head of the Tadayoshi and he knew full well Jaken’s ambition to be the next Elder Elf — a position Daichi planned to keep within his own clan. But he respected Jaken’s single-minded determination. The elven people needed such strength. ‘But Sendatsu, your son and heir, attacked and killed Council Guards and has, from all reports, broken through the magic barrier and is in the human world! Despite the best efforts of the Council, all are talking about it!’

  ‘That is what it looks like,’ Jaken agreed. ‘But that is not what really happened. If we concentrate on Sendatsu’s actions, then we shall miss the true plot. The first you will know of it is when the Council is overthrown and you are dragged away to your death.’

  He saw the flicker of disquiet on Daichi’s face but then the Elder Elf recovered. Jaken knew he would never show weakness.

  ‘I know you have many ears across the city and I thank you for the warning. But I fail to see how the actions of one elf can mean anything. Our authority is absolute. Nobody would challenge the Council, obedience is ingrained into the lower classes. This sounds like an attempt to save your clan’s position. I am afraid it will not work. If you want to stay on as clan leader, then I require you to submit to me …’

  ‘The Magic-weavers,’ Jaken interrupted. ‘Sumiko was behind the whole thing.’

  Daichi paused. ‘How can that be possible? It has been centuries since they challenged the power of the Council. They have no power base other than their own magic. And there are too few of them to do anything. They know that the twelve clans, together, would destroy them.’

  ‘They are dangerous,’ Jaken warned. ‘They are like the snake that hides under the bed, waiting for us to sleep so they can strike. In chaos they see their chance. You think time has tamed them, that they have forgotten they once dreamed of ruling the elves. But we must watch them, now more than ever.’

  ‘Come, my friend, surely you see dangers where there are none …’

  ‘They tried once before to rule Dokuzen,’ Jaken interrupted coldly. ‘They think magic makes them better than us, try to tell people they are the only ones who keep us safe from the gaijin humans. Now they have proof the barrier has weakened enough to pass through. Already they are out there, dripping their poison into every ear. All know the power of the barrier — it is what allows many of the people to sleep sound at night. Now all are hearing how elves can pass through it, so how long before humans can invade? They play on doubts and fears, say the Magic-weavers must take control if they are to save the barrier and protect the people. We keep our position because the lower classes think that is the way of things. We
only have a handful of Council Guards and Border Patrol. We keep order because of fear, discipline and habit. But if they believe we are lying to them, if they think the barrier is failing and the Magic-weavers will give them a better life, then we are in trouble. For we will have no army to stop the Magic-weavers. Worse, the esemono have all been trained with the sword and bow. If they were to decide to overthrow us, there is nothing we could do to stop them.’

  ‘You disturb me, old friend,’ Daichi muttered, and Jaken smiled inwardly at the phrase. It was expected that the Council should call each other such things, even though both knew it was a lie — they had never been friends. ‘But while all that is true, you are drawing a long bow indeed from something that might happen to something that will happen. The lower classes may not be content with their lot but they believe Aroaril ordained it this way — and they do not trust the Magic-weavers either.’

  ‘Sumiko was the one to attack the Council Guards with magic — not my son,’ Jaken said harshly. ‘My son did not have that kind of magic. He barely had the power to make a flower bloom! And then I received a message, supposedly from my son, threatening to use his trial to spread lies to the people unless I gave the scroll to the Magic-weavers for safekeeping. Old friend, they are up to their necks in this. They did not send Sendatsu out into the human world to protect him. They wanted to show the weakness of the barrier — and they want him to return with human help, to allow them to seize control.’

  ‘Surely not!’

  ‘They are the ones who keep the magic barrier in place. Who better to open it to our enemies?’

  ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘Act as if you suspect nothing. Pretend it was all the action of one mad elf. Publicly dismiss my suspicions. That way the Magic-weavers will gain the confidence to put their plans into motion. Meanwhile, I shall be moving to stop them. As soon as they give themselves away, I shall pounce!’

  Daichi thought swiftly. If there was to be trouble, if the Magic-weavers were really trying something, it would be better to have a scapegoat in case things went wrong. Far better for blame to be attached to the Tadayoshi clan than to himself. ‘Will you take care of this for the Council? Will you watch them for me — for us all?’