Bridge of Swords

by Duncan Lay

  ‘Sendatsu, you go with the lead group, because you can move through the woods better than anyone here and might be able to spot a trap before they spring it. Rhiannon and I shall be towards the rear, where we can either cover a retreat or come to your aid. We’ll take every bolt we have with us — the elven crossbows might still prove the difference.’

  ‘Don’t you think Rhiannon should stay here if it is going to be dangerous …’

  ‘I am not staying behind, like some milkmaid!’ Rhiannon snorted and Huw smiled.

  The pair of them had been using the crossbows every day, demonstrating them at each village. Rhiannon was fitter than most women but most Velsh farmwives, their arms toughened by a lifetime of work, were stronger and had no problem using the crossbow.

  ‘I’ll take care of Rhiannon.’

  ‘I don’t need taking care of — any more than you do!’ Rhiannon said hotly.

  ‘Great, you can save me and carry me back here in your arms.’ Huw turned it into a joke but Sendatsu did not smile. He felt he might never smile again. The emptiness inside him could only be filled with blood and death.

  Huw did try once more to persuade the village not to leave the safety of the houses and go into the woods.

  ‘Skies above, I know how hard it is to sit back and not help your friends. But the Forlish will be waiting for you. You can have your revenge on them if you stay here, if you build a wall and prepare the elven crossbows, they will get frustrated and attack — and you can pay them back ten-fold for what they have done, rescue your friends then …’

  ‘We cannot wait that long. A true Velshman does not sit back while his friends are being abused.’ Gareth shut that down swiftly.

  ‘A true Velshman does not get his friends killed to prove he is a true Velshman,’ Huw retorted.

  ‘Enough talk! We go!’ Gareth roared.

  The mob he had assembled rumbled their approval, although Huw reckoned barely half of them were genuinely enthusiastic. The rest were coming along because it was expected of them. They had no stomach for this and would probably run the first chance they got.

  They were all men in their prime, none bowed by years of back-breaking work, all at least three years over manhood. But the weapons they carried were less impressive. There were hunting spears, as well as hoes and scythes, although there were plenty of axes and quite a few knives as well. But no armour, no shields and nothing that was good for fighting swordsmen in woods. There were enough of them — more than fifty assembled together. But that would be just perfect for the Forlish. The biggest and bravest men all brought together and, with their deaths, the village would be helpless.

  They could not work together either. They straggled in small groups after Gareth, who held a long-handled wood axe over one shoulder, staying close to friends and family for safety and comfort, while few seemed to want to be near the front. Those who found themselves there often slowed down, or stopped to adjust a shoe or the grip on their crude weapon, allowing others to get ahead of them.

  Sendatsu observed all this grimly. He had his bow strung and a handful of arrows pushed into his belt — but expected to use his sword. He hoped the Velsh would be able to help him.

  ‘Have you any plan for when we find the Forlish?’ he asked Gareth as they walked, almost alone, at the front of the mob.

  Of all the Velsh, Gareth did not seem worried by what they were doing. He strode out, setting a fast pace, neither slowing nor deviating from the path he had chosen to the woods.

  ‘We shall follow the trail they left until we see their camp, then we shall rush in and slaughter them,’ the farmer replied gruffly.

  ‘And will you have groups ready to take them in the flank, if necessary?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And I suppose there is no proper formation with the longer weapons at the front?’

  ‘No.’

  Sendatsu sighed. These Velsh would only get in his way. They didn’t know the first thing about fighting. The Forlish had left a broad trail even a child could follow. But this did not bother Gareth. He just plodded on, aiming at a gap in the trees, where the trail the Forlish had left seemed to vanish into the bushes. Sendatsu glanced over his shoulder to see the Velsh were spread out over another fifty yards, from the ones who were close behind Gareth to the stragglers, who were getting slower all the time.

  He tried to see Huw and Rhiannon — but they were staying with the rear of the column, which was quite a distance away now.

  ‘Drink?’ A stout-looking Velshman just behind him offered him a skin. Sendatsu was about to accept when he smelled the man’s breath. It was mead. From the glassy eyes and unsteady walk of several of the Velsh behind him, there was plenty of it as well.

  ‘I’m not thirsty,’ Sendatsu said dryly.

  The advance across the fields was a new experience for Huw, and not a pleasant one either. It was one thing to talk about helping everyone but deliberately putting their heads in a noose to do so was something else again. He found his mouth was dry and his bladder full, while his hands were sweating badly and he had to keep wiping them on his tunic.

  ‘It’s just like the time before a show,’ Rhiannon said softly. ‘We’ll feel much better once it starts.’

  Huw smiled. ‘This is one case where I don’t think that is true!’

  ‘I know,’ she admitted. ‘But I thought we might both feel better if I said so.’

  They walked along in silence for a little longer. The fields were different from those he was used to. Patcham, indeed most of the villages he had visited, had one giant field divided into strips for each family. At Harlech they had strip fields, of course, but also large paddocks fenced with stone. He would have liked to ask someone about it but thought they had their minds on something else. Quite a few of the Velsh were doing their best to walk in any direction but towards the woods. All around the column, men were drinking from skins. Huw thought they must be suffering from the same dry mouth he had — until he got a whiff of what was inside. Mead. A potent liquor at the best of times but the way some of them were drinking, it was perhaps no surprise they were not walking straight. Others too, mainly the ones right at the back and sides, were stopping to drop their trousers and void their bowels.

  Rhiannon averted her eyes, while they did not look up, out of embarrassment as much as modesty.

  ‘I hope Sendatsu will be all right,’ she worried.

  ‘He’ll be fine — the Forlish have never fought anyone like him before. I’m more worried about us.’

  ‘We shall work together. You begin first — loose a few bolts quickly, then I shall begin as well. That way we shall not run out together. We’ll tell each other when we are reloading, so we can cover each other,’ Rhiannon suggested.

  Huw thought about it and liked the idea. They both had makeshift quivers, cloth bags really, tied around their waists, each filled with the short, wicked bolts. Each elven crossbow could take about a dozen of them, and they had filled the hoppers and had at least another hundred bolts apiece in the bags. He hoped it was enough.

  19

  Naibun took it to the next level when he began systematically killing humans — those with magic, priests of Aroaril and human leaders who had worked with us in the past. He had captured the lists from the Magic-weavers and now used them as they had planned.

  Unsurprisingly some humans fought back — and Naibun was able to bring reports of dead elves before a Council meeting I missed. Coming from my most loyal supporter, he was able to win support to punish any humans who came close to the barrier — and he stretched that definition as far as it could go, pushing the Border Patrol far out beyond Dokuzen.

  Gareth finally raised an arm to call a halt a good ten yards from the start of the woods. For a moment Sendatsu thought the man had lost his courage, for the woods were silent, ominously so, and while he had not seen anything, he could feel eyes on him. But then he realised Gareth just wanted everyone to catch up.

  ‘Hurry! They will get away!’ Gar
eth boomed.

  Sendatsu doubted the Forlish wanted to go anywhere, although it was a different story with the Velsh.

  ‘Are they going to be able to fight?’ he asked Gareth.

  ‘Oh, they will fight,’ Gareth promised.

  By the time there was a solid group of Velsh standing there, all peering nervously at the woods, Sendatsu seriously doubted it, although Gareth was confident enough.

  ‘When I give the order, we shall all rush in together. Stay close and kill any Forlishman you see!’ Gareth told them. ‘They will learn the strength of Vales today!’

  That raised a ragged cheer, so Gareth turned and waved his axe.

  ‘Follow me!’

  It was less a determined charge and more of a cautious trot, but the Velsh broke into a run and, led by Gareth, plunged into the woods.

  Sendatsu made sure he was just behind the lead group of Gareth and his cronies, ones who had been passing around the skins of mead on the walk from the village. He put away his arrow and slipped his bow into a holder across his back. In here, the sword was going to be the better weapon.

  The trail led across flattened bushes, to a small clearing where a fire burned, around which three lifeless, naked women were tied to stakes.

  It all reeked of a trap but, before Sendatsu could shout a useless warning, Gareth bellowed with rage and raced into the clearing, heading right for the stakes, his men close behind him.

  Sendatsu immediately scanned the undergrowth, searching for the Forlish he knew must be hidden, allowing more Velsh to slip past him, men carrying hoes and scythes that bumped on low-hanging tree branches and got in each other’s way.

  By now Gareth had reached the first of the women, lifted the head and roared with fury as he looked into dead eyes. Even from where he stood, Sendatsu could see their throats had been cut. The Velsh were now milling around the stakes, with Gareth trying to cut the bodies free of their bonds with his axe.

  ‘Watch the trees!’ Sendatsu ordered but, even as the first of the Velsh reacted sluggishly to his call, the Forlish struck.

  Sendatsu reluctantly had to admire it. The timing was perfect. The Velsh rush had lost all momentum, the ones eager to fight were standing around uselessly, while the rest were tangled with each other and the trees as well.

  Forlish warriors raced in from all directions, picking their targets, crashing home with devastating force. Velshmen swung axes or poked spears or hoes and had their crude weapons swept aside by veteran soldiers, who got close and cut and thrust viciously with their wicked swords.

  Gareth swung his axe in huge arcs, forcing back a pair of Forlish, while a few of the others were clever enough to stand together, holding out their spears to keep the Forlish at a distance. But a dozen others fell in a matter of moments, alcohol-inspired bravery and farm-bred strength no match for training and discipline.

  Sendatsu raced forwards, to where the Forlish trap was about to close and cut off Gareth’s group, eager to pay these Forlish back for what they had done.

  To his left a warrior lunged at him but Sendatsu just slipped past the point and delivered a short slash to the neck, sending the man backwards. On his right another cut at his head but he blocked that easily and used the momentum from his first blow to send his blade deep into the man’s chest. His sword caught on ribs and he cursed, brought up his foot and tried to kick the gasping man off his blade.

  ‘Come on! Fight!’ he roared at the Velsh, ripping his sword free and shoving the dying Forlishman towards his advancing comrades.

  But the mass of Velsh was collapsing in on itself as the Forlish pressed in from all sides. Everywhere he looked, men were dying. He raced to help a young Velshman who was prodding desperately with his pitchfork, trying to keep a swordsman at bay. As the Forlishman pushed the rusty tines away and drew back his sword for the killing thrust, Sendatsu jumped in and cut off his head with a huge dragon-tail stroke.

  That got the attention of other Forlish and a pair changed direction and pressed in on him.

  Sendatsu shoved the Velshman he had saved towards a fallen sword.

  ‘Pick it up! Fight!’ he ordered.

  Instead, the Velshman raced away. Sendatsu could not do more, for the Forlish sliced and cut at him from opposite directions. But this was no more than an exercise to Sendatsu, a drill he had practised scores of times, and a chance to use the floating cloud style. He jumped towards one man, forcing him back, then turned swiftly to block a blow from the other, rolling his wrists and chopping over the top. Before that Forlishman had collapsed, he had spun again, to parry another lunge. He cut off the Forlishman’s hand, then sliced his throat as he screamed in pain, silencing him in mid-cry.

  ‘Stay together, use your spears!’ he shouted again, wiping blood off his face and trying to see what Gareth and the other Velsh were doing.

  Behind him, the nervous fighters, led by the man he had saved, were flooding back down the trail, running for their lives. In front of him, Gareth and a dozen men stood, surrounded by the bodies of a score of others, while Forlish pressed in from three sides, tightening the noose around them. Sendatsu could see they had no idea how to fight.

  ‘To me!’ Sendatsu bellowed.

  At last they heeded his words, hearing them over the screams of the wounded and dying and the war cries of the Forlish. Sendatsu counted swiftly — there were more than forty Forlishmen and each was the equal of three or four Velsh.

  The Velsh were running towards Sendatsu. Only Gareth remained, his feet planted solidly, swinging his axe wildly from side to side, as though he was chopping at a tree. It only took moments — one Forlishman waited until the axe had swung past, then stepped in and thrust his sword into Gareth’s belly. The big Velshman dropped his axe and grabbed his killer around the throat but, before he could crush the life out of him, other Forlish stepped in and their swords sank deeply into Gareth, who toppled over.

  ‘Stay with me!’ Sendatsu tried to slow them down but, once they began running, it was hard to stop. They raced for the village and the Forlish flooded after them in pursuit. Sendatsu had to back away himself, wondering where Huw and Rhiannon had gone.

  Then the Forlish raced in, and he had no more time to worry about them.

  ‘Come on! Stick together! Get those spears out!’ He tried to hold the last of the frightened Velsh together as the Forlish pressed in, eager to finish this slaughter.

  Huw and Rhiannon had been caught at the back, slowed down by the stragglers, who had been caught up in the trees and with each other. When the fighting began, the first they heard of it was the screaming of men dying on steel blades. Almost immediately, men began pushing backwards, heading for the sunlight and the village. One man dropped his scythe and ran, next moment a dozen of them were pushing and shoving to get clear, everyone getting tangled up with each other.

  ‘Come on — let’s get around them!’ Rhiannon shouted. She was frightened, but not just for herself. Sendatsu was up there somewhere, near where all the screaming was happening. She knew he could handle himself but he was relying on them to help.

  Huw did not want to go near the fighting. Every instinct told him to turn around, let the tide of frightened men carry him out in the sun once more. But he could not leave Rhiannon. He jumped over a low bush and hurried after her.

  More and more men were now running backwards down the trail, while the screams and the shouts were louder up ahead. They could hear Sendatsu bellowing for men to stay with him and looked at each other.

  ‘Come on then.’ Huw waved and they pushed through the bushes, until they could see Sendatsu fighting furiously. Few Velsh were helping him and plenty of Forlish were trying to kill him.

  ‘Do it! Quick!’ Rhiannon cried and Huw levelled his crossbow in response.

  He worked the crossbow’s lever, sending a steady stream of bolts at the Forlish to Sendatsu’s left side. Men stopped, ducked and covered up as wicked bolts sunk into flesh. Rhiannon added hers and that whole side backed away, collapsing in on itsel
f. Sendatsu used the respite to turn on those in front of him. He deflected a wild swing and cut viciously, sending the Forlishman screaming back into his fellows, then he danced clear of the pursuit, encouraging a few of the slightly more sober Velsh to stand with him, to use their hunting spears to hold back the Forlish. Now the narrowness of the path worked to the favour of the Velsh, for it was the Forlish advance that was being held back, compressed by the path and the crossbow bolts slicing in from the flank. These bolts rarely took a man down with just one. But they rarely hit with just one. The narrowness of the Forlish advance allowed Huw and Rhiannon to concentrate their bolts on a small space. One was a painful annoyance, two slowed a man down, three or more and that Forlishman was out of the battle.

  ‘Keep going! Stay together!’ Sendatsu urged the Velsh, trying to get them to hold together and walk backwards at the same time.

  It was almost impossible.

  One by one, the Velsh disappeared down the trail.

  ‘Take your friends!’ Sendatsu darted from left to right, his sword cutting down Forlish who pressed too close, trying to give the wounded a chance to be dragged to safety.

  The Forlish used short swords, ideal for close work and the shield wall — and more than enough to deal with the untrained Velsh. But Sendatsu’s blade was considerably longer, giving him more reach — and he had far more skill as well. The Forlish held their swords in their right hands, used their whole arms to stab or swing fiercely, yet wildly. Sendatsu had two hands on his hilt and used wrists and forearms to move the sword too swiftly for them to follow. He dazzled them with a variety of styles — using the cross, the dragon-tail, the wagonwheel, the eight-side, tiger-claw and thunder-strike. They raised their swords to block a blow heading for their necks, only for Sendatsu to subtly change direction and slice off an arm, or cut open chests or stomachs. They were brave men and pressed in — but seeing their comrades fall to this blade naturally slowed them down a little, and they were content to push the elf back, rather than try to bring him down.