by Duncan Lay
Sendatsu grunted. ‘Well, they had better hurry up. We need to move on to the next village. Who knows when the Forlish will strike.’
He stamped away to yell at the men splitting logs. That was a much easier target for his frustration.
‘We need to stay close to him,’ Rhiannon stated. ‘I always thought the elves never got angry, never displayed emotion?’
‘This one does,’ Huw said. ‘I don’t think he is like those elves we sang about. He’s not the hero I expected.’
‘No, he is better!’ Rhiannon sighed, looking devotedly over at Sendatsu.
Huw held back angry words and instead shyly reached out and touched her arm. ‘Thank you for this. Sendatsu may be making it happen but it is your idea. You were the one to suggest this and the one to persuade him to help.’
Rhiannon smiled back. ‘We are both making it happen. I am just pleased you still want to talk to me, after …’ She slowed to a halt and bit her lip, thinking again about how she had stopped Huw from leaving Cridianton.
Huw squeezed her hand. ‘Of course I still want to speak to you!’ His own guilt prevented him from saying more. ‘Besides, you are the one with the good ideas …’
Rhiannon squeezed back. ‘Thank you. And here is one more, although I don’t know how good it is. Perhaps we should get Sendatsu to help with the work, rather than just supervising? That way they can see him working with them — it will bring him closer to the people …’
‘Brilliant!’ Huw exclaimed. ‘We’d better hurry — before he fights someone else. One more thing, though — just be careful around him.’
‘What do you mean?’ she bristled.
‘He has a secret — something he carries around in his pouch. I think it might be magical or something …’
‘That is silly. We can trust him,’ Rhiannon insisted. ‘Come on!’
Huw said no more, except to add his voice to hers when she told Sendatsu her idea. Sendatsu was a little reluctant but gave in under gentle persuasion from Rhiannon.
‘It will make everything go faster,’ she said enticingly.
He could not argue against that. ‘But you can work too,’ he told Huw.
‘I don’t have the skills!’
‘Anyone can dig,’ Rhiannon pointed out.
So Huw found himself sucking in his stomach and stripped to the waist, digging the ditch. He had traditionally avoided much of the heavy work around the farm, shielded by his father — and of course the past few moons had seen him relax and indulge himself in the castle of King Ward. The wooden spade he was using was hardly the best tool for the job, but the soil was rich and soft, and it was easy enough to heave out of the ditch and up onto the growing bank, which would become the first line of defence. As the bank grew, men came along and made a channel in the middle, readying it for the logs. It soon grew more difficult with every spadeful but he found the menial work strangely comforting. His grief at the loss of his father was still red-raw but the feeling of working to protect the village, as part of a community, seemed to help. Secretly, it also felt like a penance for his failure to return home quick enough. Either way, he almost rejoiced in what he was putting himself through.
Of course, his hands were soon blistering, while his back, legs and shoulders were burning from the unaccustomed effort. But the women and children around him were not complaining, nor were they slacking off. Huw could not stop, so he just wiped the sweat away from his face, gripped the rough handle of the spade and kept going.
He knew all the women by sight and name, and most of the children as well, and it was easy to talk to them about what they were doing, about how this would protect them.
‘So, did you really perform at the court of King Ward?’ a woman called.
‘That I did,’ Huw admitted, wiping away the sweat and glad of the chance for a momentary break. ‘I can show you the gold coin he gave me, stamped with his head, when he asked me to stay for a year.’
They absorbed that for a little while.
‘Will you give us a song then, to keep us going?’ another asked.
Huw shovelled out another spadeful.
‘Join in if you remember this one,’ he suggested, then began a traditional Velsh song about a farmer waiting for the spring rains.
His rich voice rolled down the trench, men, women and children pausing in their work to listen and turn and watch. After a few moments, several women began to join in, followed by the men. Huw increased his volume slightly, leading the tune, and finding himself smiling, just a little, as he did so.
Sendatsu watched the men working on the trees with grudging approval. They had sped up appreciably. He had already decided the palisade did not need to be enormous. Ten feet, including the earth foundation they were digging out now, would be plenty. These raiders had no more equipment than their swords and horses, and their best weapon was the fear they spread. They did not have the time or the weapons to try to smash through a wall, even one as low as the palisade Sendatsu was planning. That meant trees could be split into quarters, then sawn down further, so they were only cutting down as many as they needed. He took his turn with the axe, shearing off the smaller branches, which were being collected for firewood by young boys — as well as Rhiannon — and also worked on the saw. He stripped his tunic off to keep it clean and caught sight of her staring at him. He hurriedly turned back to the saw, pretending he hadn’t noticed her, and tried to lose himself in the physical exertion. He had not used a saw before but refused to let any discomfort show. It was a habit he had learned — the hard way — from his father’s lessons.
Although he did not want to be distracted by feeling anything for these humans, it was hard not to have some kinship with the man on the other end of the saw as they sweated together. Sendatsu even found himself offering a nod of approval to the man, before moving back to the axe. He heard Huw singing and turned to watch for a moment, seeing the way the people seemed to move to the rhythm of the song, spades and picks rising and falling together. Rhiannon began singing as well, then the men joined in. Sendatsu looked at them, noticing how they took strength from the act of singing and working together. It was interesting to watch. He had seen the esemono at work before — and it had been nothing like this. The humans were working better than elves. When he had first read the other Sendatsu’s words he had thought nothing could be worse than elves becoming like humans. Now he was not so sure.
12
One of the most shameful things that went on was the way the worship of Aroaril was taken away from the other tribes of humans, the Velsh, Forlish and so forth. For many years they had worshipped the same God as we had — many of us had even shared a church. But, to those of my people who looked down on the humans, seeing them perform magic was, as I was later to learn, an ‘abomination’. It also ruined their stories of so-called elven superiority. How could you argue one group was better when they were both equal before the same God? They fought this two ways. Human priests and priestesses of Aroaril were killed, sometimes horribly — and elves always rushed in to explain to the rest of the village that this terrible tragedy was because humans were not meant to worship Aroaril. In fact, they claimed, Aroaril was offended by humans worshipping Him and, if they continued, even worse things would happen. Instead, humans could only pray to the sun — ceremonies at Midsummer and Midwinter were the best.
It was monstrous — but the tactics worked.
‘You have worked fairly quickly,’ Sendatsu said grudgingly, as they sat around the dining table that night. There was a mutton stew that had been cooked for the whole village and he was hungry enough to force it down. ‘I’d like things to be moving faster, of course.’
‘The music helped,’ Rhiannon added. It had really helped her. She had been caught up in her idea to help the people but, once she was out there, she had been beset with worries. She was Forlish, the attackers were Forlish — would the Velsh hate her? She had also been a little afraid of them. Her father had said they were all hairy barbarian
s with no culture. But while none had spoken to her at first, the singing had changed everything. They had heard her voice, sung along with her and the ice was broken. By the end of the day she was chatting with everyone, and some of the women had even offered to braid her hair. ‘It really inspired people. I loved hearing it as well,’ she told Huw.
Huw grinned as he cradled his spoon between blistered hands. ‘I’m glad. Luckily my voice was stronger than my back and arms — by the end of the day I was out on my feet. Even a spoonful of stew is almost too much for me to lift!’
Sendatsu chewed a mouthful down and pondered the way the two humans seemed to have recovered their spirits. Yesterday they had been in tears, barely able to function, but now they had a purpose and it had given them energy. Watching the whole village work together and take strength from each other had also been something of a revelation. He was sure the Elven Council would have been shocked to its core to witness it. He had walked around the village and been amazed by what he had found.
His little tour began at the far end of the village. There, downwind from everyone else — unless a rare southerly blew — the tanner was working away, scraping hair and fat and flesh off a hide stretched tight. Between the smell of his waste and the chicken dung he rubbed into the leather to make it tanned and smooth, he needed to be far away from everyone else.
Sendatsu had hurried away from there but stopped at the fields to watch the men work, which was a fascinating sight in itself. Sendatsu had never seen the rice paddies but had imagined they must be huge fields, as far as the eye could see. The humans did not farm like this. Instead, the village shared one huge area, dividing it up into strips for each family, each strip bounded by a slim grass section to allow access to all sides. Different crops sat side by side and dozens of boys covered the long strips — weeding, watering, hoeing, planting — while the men worked on the palisade.
The women, when not digging or looking after the children or cooking, gathered nuts and berries, or made clothes. There were many vats of berries and plants bubbling away, making a smell nearly as bad as the tanner but also staining the woollen clothes they all wore. And all the females, right down to the little girls, spun wool wherever they went.
Everyone seemed to be working all the time, from dawn to dusk, and he found himself comparing that to life back in Dokuzen.
There the lower classes slaved just as hard, but the middle classes had a much easier life and the upper classes worked not at all. And things were only done on the orders of the Council. Here, people did what was needed, when it was needed, without thought of political advantage or whether it would demean their family or clan to do so. He had thought life in Dokuzen was perfect and, while it had many advantages over here, he had to admit there were still things the humans did better …
‘What are you thinking?’ Rhiannon asked.
‘Nothing.’ He shrugged. ‘Are you sure there is nothing I can use as a bath?’
‘There is only the stream,’ Huw pointed out.
Sendatsu grunted. Of all the material things of Dokuzen, clean clothes and a hot bath were the ones he longed for. Perhaps he could get the wall-builders to make something up for him …
‘Once the palisade goes up — what then?’ Huw asked, breaking Sendatsu’s train of thought.
‘How do you mean?’ Sendatsu swallowed the mutton and scooped up another spoonful. His hunger had overcome his distaste for animal flesh. It was livened with salt and mint and quite tasty, although he longed for some greenery and especially some rice.
‘Well, it will make them stop and think. But if they attack anyway, how do we stop them?’
Sendatsu sighed. ‘You need weapons. And we do not have the time to teach these people …’
‘Not to use a sword or a bow. But there must be other weapons, easy to use and able to drive back these raiders,’ Rhiannon suggested.
Sendatsu was about to tell them there was nothing, but the expectant expression on Rhiannon’s face stopped him. He thought hard, and was pleasantly surprised to come up with an idea.
‘There is one thing — have you heard of a crossbow?’
‘Of course. But they are too expensive — there is no way we could get enough, even if the Forlish would sell them to us,’ Huw grunted. ‘And they take so long to reload that even a dozen of them would not be enough …’
‘Yes, but there is a different type of crossbow. The problem is, I only saw it a few times, in the tombs of my forefathers, where rest many things that we brought with us when we left the dragons and sailed to this continent …’
‘Do dragons still live at Dokuzen?’ Rhiannon interrupted excitedly.
‘My people once served the dragons. Centuries ago. But none have been seen in Dokuzen.’ Sendatsu shrugged.
‘How I would love to see one,’ Rhiannon sighed. ‘I used to dream of dragons when I was a girl. They would take me for a flight and tell me I could do magic …’
‘The new crossbow?’ Huw interrupted.
‘It is a repeating crossbow. Instead of needing to be wound up after every shot, it can loose a dozen bolts rapidly, one after another. The drawback is range — it has little power and would be useless beyond about twenty yards. But if you were able to make enough of them, they would give you a chance to turn back the raiders.’ Sendatsu smiled at Rhiannon. ‘Sadly, I doubt you have the ability to build such a thing.’
‘Nonsense!’ Huw said. ‘We have many men who are brilliant with their hands. Give us the design and we shall build it.’
Sendatsu paused. This was the flaw. He had only seen the thing a few times and, while he had been fascinated with it as a boy, he had no idea how it would work. But he had no intention of admitting that. Instead he would draw it from memory and then blame it on the incompetence of the craftsmen if it did not work. After all, how could they possibly replicate something of the elves? That way it could not be his fault.
‘Get me some paper and ink, and I shall sketch it out,’ he declared.
Although Rhiannon watched, entranced, he was horribly aware a memory was a difficult thing to get down on paper — or scraped, chalked lambskin. He remembered it looked roughly like a normal crossbow, but built in two parts. The top half could be moved backwards and forwards by a wooden lever, with the backward motion cocking the weapon, as well as dropping a new bolt into the firing slit from a box at the top. Then the forward motion propelled the bolt out. He drew confidently enough, although how anyone was going to make his drawings a reality he had no idea. But he showed no sign as he handed them over to Rhiannon and Huw.
‘Give that to your best men and see what they can do. But don’t let them waste too much time on it. After all, the design is elven, so it is far beyond what they are used to,’ he suggested, which he thought would help disguise any flaws in his drawings and things he might have forgotten.
‘We might surprise you yet,’ Huw said stoutly. He needed the elf if he was going to avenge his father’s death and stop the Forlish — but he did not have to like him. The fact Rhiannon was both entranced by the thought of seeing Dokuzen and by Sendatsu himself had hardly anything to do with it.
Asami welcomed her parents into her main reception room with a fixed smile, ensured they had both tea and food, then sat carefully, wondering what their purpose was. Of course she could not come out and say such a thing. She had to make polite conversation and wait for them to come to the point. Given her father was known as Jaken’s right hand, she had no doubt he was here on the orders of their clan leader.
‘I was at the marketplace yesterday and I have never heard the like,’ her mother said. ‘Rumours and gossip fly around like birds at sunset. Sendatsu’s actions have created more of a stir than anything I have ever seen or heard before.’
‘Well, you can hardly blame them. Nobody has used swords and magic on Council Guards before. Why, it must be fifty years since someone even dared to fight them,’ her father added.
‘I look at that and thank Aroaril you never ma
rried him,’ her mother sniffed. ‘I mean, first there was the business with his wife and children — and now this!’
‘Not to mention the way he has lived his life for the past few years. He has a position almost every other elf in Dokuzen would give their right arm for — and he did nothing with it! Everyone expected Jaken’s son to be a leader in our society. Instead he sat at home and played with the children,’ her father sniffed.
Asami bit her tongue, for she had heard it all before — many times. In the past, when they thought she might marry the clan leader’s son, they could not praise him enough. As soon as Jaken had blocked their union, their opinion changed overnight.
Her mind flashed back to those days and when she had first met Sendatsu, at his fifth birthday party. Her parents had ordered her to be nice to Jaken’s son, for he would be clan leader one day, and she had been determined not to have anything to do with him. Rather than talk with him, she would sit in the corner and say nothing. Young elves were running around wildly, wrestling with each other and shouting. She had found a peaceful corner of the garden, only for a boy to come and sit next to her. They had watched the others for a while, then begun to talk. He showed her some of the nearby flowers and where to get a plate of food.
‘I am so glad you were here,’ Asami had confessed as they ate their treats together. ‘I thought this was going to be a nightmare. I thought all of Sendatsu’s friends would be like that,’ and she gestured to where a handful of boys were running into each other with bloodcurdling shouts. ‘He’s probably the one with the loudest voice!’
‘I thought the same thing,’ her new friend confessed.
They chuckled at the way the others were behaving and then shared the last honey cake together.
Asami had sat there in warm silence for a few moments more, then a tall, beautiful woman strode into the garden.