by Duncan Lay
Cursing furiously, Sendatsu tried to dig out the stuck bolt, while more Forlish raced in on his right.
‘Back! Come on!’ Rhiannon cried and they raced across another field.
This time the Forlish followed closer, intent only on revenge.
‘Keep going!’ Rhiannon shouted, glancing back over her shoulder. Running like this, being pursued, was far different from her rigorous training as a dancer, and her lungs were burning, her legs leaden with the combination of fear, adrenalin and exertion.
‘Keep going where? The Velsh have fled, Huw with them. I’ll deal with these Forlish myself.’ Sendatsu dropped the blocked crossbow and drew his sword.
Rhiannon grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t be a fool! They’ll kill you! Stay with me,’ she pleaded.
He saw the numbers facing him and had a sudden vision of Mai and Cheijun. Then it changed to the dead boy in Rheged. Maybe these were the ones who left him to die, alone, surrounded by his dead family.
‘Go. I’ll be right behind you,’ he said grimly.
But Rhiannon did not move. He could barely believe it. Did the woman really want to argue with him now? He glanced over his shoulder, to see her staring, a broad grin on her face, as the village of Harlech advanced grimly, climbing over the stone wall into the field.
Huw was at their head and there was a huge mass — men, women and older children. The ones at the back surely had no weapons, for there were not enough implements even in a village the size of Harlech to arm all of them. But there were too many to count and the ones at the front and sides all held something — from axes, knives and clubs to hoes and scythes.
‘Death to the Forlish!’ Huw roared, and the huge mob howled its anger.
The Forlish, spread out in a rough half-circle and closing in on Sendatsu and Rhiannon, stopped in their tracks. It was as if the wolf pack had been confronted by a mass of angry sheep — and they did not know what to do. But they could count, and their confidence was shaken by the sheer size of the mass of villagers. In ones and twos, then as a group, they began backing away, then turned and ran.
‘After them!’ Huw bellowed and the crowd shouted its agreement.
Sendatsu and Rhiannon ran with them, catching up to Huw as they went over a wall together, the Forlish in front streaking away for the safety of the woods.
‘It has gone beyond sense now — we have to chase them away or this village will never be the same,’ Huw explained.
‘Are you sure?’ Rhiannon called.
‘No — I know what they are thinking and feeling! Trust me!’ Huw cried, his face alight.
The feeling of bringing these people together, of driving away the Forlish almost from the gates of the village, was roaring through him. His fear from earlier was forgotten. He knew the Velsh had to regain their pride. Driving the Forlish away was no longer enough.
A pair of wounded Forlish, bolts in their legs, had fallen behind the rest — and were caught by the mob. They turned, swords held ready, and the village checked instinctively. But Huw kept going, knowing the Velsh mood was a fragile thing. If it stopped, it could be turned. The thought of taking on a pair of Forlish was terrifying but he forced himself on, hoe held out like a crude spear. The Forlish looked like they would sell their lives dearly, then Sendatsu charged in. He unleashed a series of blows, his sword flashing from side to side in the eight-side pattern. One man blocked desperately then went down, the other backed away and was swamped by the mob. It rolled over him and kept going.
The Forlish were disappearing into the woods but Huw refused to hesitate outside, instead racing on, Sendatsu and Rhiannon just behind him. The path through the woods was littered with broken and bleeding men, while the clearing was horrid with them, a heaving, sobbing mass of dying and dead, stinking of blood and shit. The Forlish had stopped here, but when they saw the mass of Velsh still after them, they turned and ran again. They led the Velsh further into the forest, to another clearing, where they began climbing hurriedly onto horses and trying to make a proper getaway.
‘Don’t let them escape!’ Huw tried to yell, but his breathing was ragged after so much running.
Sendatsu led the way here and took on a Forlishman who was struggling to get onto his horse. The warrior hacked out with his sword but Sendatsu blocked it almost casually and chopped down once.
Huw threw his hoe, the long pole entangling a horse’s legs and bringing down another Forlishman, who was pounced on and beaten to death by a dozen enraged Velsh, while Rhiannon sent her last bolts flying into the backs of the Forlish as they raced away through the trees, leaving behind their camp.
The Velsh looked around, looked at each other, realised with surprise what they had done, then someone began to cheer and they all joined in.
‘No time for that!’ Huw shouted, trying to get his voice back. ‘We need to carry this back to the village, we need to get every helmet, sword, axe and weapon dropped — and we need to find our wounded, help them — and bury our dead.’
He half expected someone from the village to take control, to disagree even — but all seemed willing to listen to him. Groups began to work at his direction, splitting up naturally. Women went to look for wounded and dead men, while men picked up food and weapons, as well as the possessions the Forlish had already looted from their village. But first an older woman, a long knife in her hands, stepped forwards.
‘Three cheers for our saviour!’ she cried, thrusting the knife in the air.
Sendatsu reluctantly stepped forwards.
‘To Huw! A true Velsh hero!’ the woman shouted and the people roared their approval.
Sendatsu whipped around, shocked, to see an equally surprised Huw step forwards.
‘Please — I did not do this alone. My friends Sendatsu and Rhiannon saved me, as well as you …’ Huw tried to tell them but, the cheering done, the people of Harlech went back to their tasks.
Huw shrugged sheepishly at Sendatsu and Rhiannon.
‘Most of them do not know what happened out here — all they saw was you coming into their village, inspiring them and then leading them out here to chase the Forlish away,’ Rhiannon said.
‘I shall tell them. Even though we have driven away the Forlish, the village still needs to be protected, still needs our help,’ Huw said defensively.
Sendatsu sniffed. ‘I am not here to be the hero,’ he said.
‘You may not want to be the hero but you are one,’ Rhiannon told him.
‘Without Gareth, I think these people are lost. They are used to someone telling them what to do — and any that might challenge me are lying dead back in the clearing.’ Huw shrugged, then smiled at Rhiannon. ‘Thank you for saving my life.’
‘It wasn’t so hard.’ Rhiannon grinned. ‘Although my legs can’t seem to stop shaking, everything feels wonderful — the air is sweet, every sense is alive!’
‘It’s the aftermath of battle — just as we used to sing about.’ Huw nodded.
Sendatsu cleaned his sword on a discarded tunic. He felt flat, rather than wonderful. He had taken some revenge but it did not seem enough. More people had died, and still Forlish had escaped.
20
The stories grew, got out of control. Attempting to spread the truth soon became impossible. Humans and even the Elfarans did not want to hear it any longer.
They wanted to believe they had been given magic by the dragons, wanted to think they were special.
Who wants to hear something mundane, when there is a wonderful alternative?
Our forefathers left the service of the dragons because they were frightened of what the magic was doing to them. Their faces were changing, stretching, becoming more like dragons, their cheekbones getting higher, their ears longer. Then they arrived in Nippon, where the people naturally had almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones and golden-coloured skin. Thanks to the magic, the forefathers outlived many wives, creating huge families or clans — until the Nipponese drove them out.
Hardly wondrous.
And as for wisdom �
� well, I am the perfect example of the mistakes we made. But perhaps the worst of them was the so-called brilliant idea to have one language, so we could speak with the Velsh and Forlish, and they in turn with the Landish, Balians and Breconians. How much easier would life be if we could all understand each other! Why the forefathers agreed to let the Magic-weavers try this, I do not know. The simple answer is they could make mistakes like the rest of us. It was a massive undertaking, involving many elves. And of course the humans had to be persuaded this was for their own good, that we knew best. They remembered the explanation anyway. But although it worked perfectly in that everyone began speaking a language that was part of all of us, rather than unique — everyone lost as well. Things that had been special to each country were lost.
It was this, more than anything, which convinced the forefathers we needed to be locked away for our own good, and the protection of the humans in this land.
‘Have you seen a bard and a dancer pass through these parts?’ Hector asked, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
It was a frustrating search through Vales. News did not seem to travel well through the little valleys and into the grubby villages. As well, he had to be careful. The king’s seal held no value up here and, as the Velsh were known to be mad barbarians, it would not do to anger them. Hector rode into the village himself, taking no more than two guards with him — although making sure it was always the largest ones. If he was questioned, he told a version of the truth — she was his daughter and had eloped with a bard.
It earned him rough sympathy, even if it did not always bring news with it. Gradually a pattern began to emerge. The villages that sprawled across the fields had not heard of them but the ones that had walls around them had all seen the bard and dancer — and an elf, travelling with them. Some even seemed to think the dancer was with the elf, rather than the bard!
This was all somewhat confusing for Hector, although he tried to make some sense of it. If there really was an elf — which he found hard to believe — it was no surprise to hear Rhiannon was with him, rather than with a lowly Velsh bard. She had always been fascinated with the elves, judged herself against their mythical ability. The chance to visit Dokuzen — she would have jumped at that. Of course, that presented a new problem — if there was an elf and he did take her back to Dokuzen, how was he going to follow them there?
‘If they pass through here again, should we tell them you are looking for your daughter?’ the Velsh usually asked.
‘No,’ Hector said, time and again. ‘They will only run if they know I am looking for them.’
The Velsh had laughed knowingly and Hector had forced himself to join in.
All Hector could do was keep following, as best he could, and hope they made a mistake — or he got lucky.
The mood of the village was mixed. Many families had lost husbands, sons, brothers — all had lost friends and Harlech had lost the only leader it had known for the last ten years.
Into that gap came Huw.
He had given the people their courage back, and now he cajoled, enthused and encouraged them to feel they could protect themselves once more. The elven crossbows had proved their worth — and the knowledge they could be used by a woman impressed all. The wall went up, as did lookout towers, while the carpenters worked day and night to make enough crossbows.
‘We are going to have to leave soon — or they won’t want you to go,’ Rhiannon joked.
Sendatsu was not in the mood for jests.
‘We are wasting time here,’ he snarled at them. ‘We’ve saved these people, now we have to move on. Every morning we can see smoke, every morning there are children being killed out there by those bastards.’
‘I thought you’d want to find those precious answers you seek, that will let us go to Dokuzen?’ Rhiannon added.
‘That too!’
But Huw found he was enjoying being a leader. People asked questions and he had the answers. For years he had been despised for his dreams, for wanting something more than just to follow in his father’s footsteps. Now the people needed someone with ideas. He had so much to make up for — and at last he felt like he was achieving something. It was heady stuff.
But the pressure from Sendatsu, with help from Rhiannon, became too great to ignore, so they rode out of the village to cheers and waves, as well as pleas not to go. But it was a very different village from the one they had found.
‘There’s a village that will never be surprised again,’ Huw predicted as they rode out.
‘We did a fine job there. Saved them and then gave them the knowledge to save themselves, the next time,’ Rhiannon agreed.
Sendatsu just grunted.
‘He’ll cheer up if we can get him an answer or two,’ Huw predicted.
But now they found village after village that had already been raided. Rather than convincing them they needed to protect themselves, the task was persuading them to stand up for themselves.
Whether it was the band of Forlish that had struck Harlech — and been almost destroyed now — or whether it was another group, the surrounding villages had all been hit hard. Crops had been torched, homes burned, livestock killed, women taken in the night, men left dead. The people were more terrified than angry.
Many of the people thought they should simply flee, while almost all were too afraid to go hunting alone or cut wood. As Huw had learned at Harlech, they had to regain their courage before they would stand up for themselves. Having an elf in their village was reassuring for them but, strangely enough, Rhiannon now proved to be the key. The Velsh were a traditional farming people. While their womenfolk were valued and respected, their place was in the home and it was the men who were seen as the defenders and protectors and leaders. To have a young woman walk among them, showing them she was not afraid of the Forlish — and was prepared to fight them with her elven crossbow — tipped the balance. The Velshmen could not be seen to sit back when a woman was challenging them to fight.
She was also crucial when it came to solving another problem. Few of the villagers here were runaway Forlish, unlike Rheged, which was always short of people to work hard fields. But there were some and the news the hated raiders were Forlish led to these settlers being regarded with, at best, suspicion. In a couple of villages, they wanted to hang them, crying they must be spies for the bandits.
‘They have suffered, just like you. In fact, they have more to lose. If King Ward finds them here, if he becomes the ruler of Vales, they will be flogged to death. To leave Forland carries with it a terrible penalty,’ Rhiannon told angry, frightened villagers.
And if that did not work, she challenged them directly.
‘I was born in Forland. My life is forfeit, just like theirs, should I return. Just because we live in Forland does not mean we love King Ward, nor support his cruel rule. But there is no choice for us, like there is for you. I have stood and fought, I have killed Forlish warriors who were seeking to slaughter Velsh. If you doubt your neighbours, you also doubt me. Any who think they should hang the Forlish needs to start with me. Just try it!’
She stared them down, crossbow in hand — and none were prepared to try anything. Partly because she looked so fierce, so determined — but mainly because Sendatsu was standing behind her, glowering, hand on sword.
He found it easy to glower. At each village he was finding, not the answers he sought, but pain. Sobbing parents begged him to heal their wounded children, or even to bring them back to life. His protestations that his magic could not save them sounded lame, even to his own ears. These people did not want truth, they wanted hope. He felt he could not give them either. They could see the smoke that marked the passage of Forlish raiders through Vales. But although he longed to lure them into some rash attack on Velsh walls, they could not spot a war band.
Huw, and particularly Rhiannon, noticed the change in Sendatsu. He was driven to move onwards but not in search of answers, instead to hunt Forlish. Huw sent him off to find wood and seized
the chance to speak to Rhiannon.
‘He scares me,’ Huw whispered.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Twice now he has risked all our lives. He does not seem to care about finding those of us with magic, or people with memories of Aroaril — he just wants to search out and kill Forlish.’
‘But I thought that was what you wanted — to have a hero like that?’
‘Not like this! And if he doesn’t kill us, he is going to get himself killed — and then what use will he be? He’s changing — he doesn’t even ask for a bath any more. And he just takes and eats what’s put in front of him, doesn’t even ask for rice. It is unnerving me.’
‘Well, what should we do about it?’
Huw gritted his teeth. ‘Maybe you should talk to him,’ he forced himself to say. ‘Maybe the secret is inside that pouch of his.’
‘Should we just try to find out what he wants to know — would that help?’
Huw shook his head. ‘We don’t want him to leave, we just want him to do what we need …’
‘I think you are trying to be too clever,’ Rhiannon warned. ‘We should be grateful he is helping us this much.’
Huw knew he was asking a great deal. But his people needed a great deal. He had to do whatever it took, use whatever was on hand. His father’s memory demanded no less.
‘What are you talking about?’ Sendatsu returned with an armful of dead wood.
‘We are worried about you,’ Rhiannon said immediately. ‘All you are worried about is killing Forlish.’
Sendatsu dropped the wood with a clatter. ‘I thought that was what you wanted,’ he said coldly.
‘Well, yes, but it should be about protecting people, not hunting down Forlish.’
‘They’re one and the same,’ he grunted.
Rhiannon glanced at Huw, who urged her on.
‘We noticed you keep looking at something inside your pouch. Is it something to do with that …’
‘No!’ Sendatsu roared, causing them both to rock backwards. ‘What is in there is not for you. And I shall not talk about it. Goodnight.’