by Duncan Lay
They had spent the last night in Brynmawr and were now riding east.
‘They have not been out here, so we need to search elsewhere,’ Hector said.
‘Shall we ride around?’
Hector looked at where the corporal was pointing, to a patch of broken ground and thick woodland.
‘We’d never ride through there in Balia, sir. Too obvious a place for an ambush.’
‘Don’t be a fool, man! We’re Forlish! We want to find our own men! Besides, as soon as they hear our voices, they will know who we are.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You ride first,’ Hector added hastily.
‘Here they come,’ Broyle whispered. ‘Pass the word.’ He had walked the track himself, tried to spot his men — and ordered extra cover cut for some, while moving others until they were invisible, yet close to the road. Not even an elf could spot them, he concluded with satisfaction.
‘Remember the orders — take them but we want them alive!’
Three riders were now approaching slowly. Broyle could hear them but could not see them — that was too risky — and so needed to judge carefully the right time to strike. The horses were moving slowly and he had to curb his impatience. The time for revenge was so close!
‘This looks like the perfect spot,’ a strange voice said.
Broyle did not understand what it meant but feared it signalled one of his men had been seen. He dared not wait any longer.
‘Now!’ he roared, leaping up and out of cover, a thick branch in his hands. He had ordered all swords kept sheathed, for he did not want any of the three dead. Yet.
As he burst out of the bushes his first thought was joy, as he saw the shock on the closest face — then he almost stopped in surprise himself for this trio was not the one he wanted. There was no bard or dancer — although there seemed to be three elves, all of whom were drawing swords and preparing to fight back.
Hanto saw the broken ground and recognised its ambush potential instantly.
‘We’ll ride into the middle, find the ideal place,’ he told the other two who, as always, nodded agreement.
The long, fruitless chase and the hope of finishing it at last made him careless. Normally he would have sent Taigo riding ahead as a scout but Hanto was sure he was the hunter, not the hunted. Besides, nothing he had seen from the gaijin had made him fear them. He was sure they did not have his experience or talents — how could they?
He scanned the bushes on either side to find a place to ambush Sendatsu. After their earlier attempt, he had a healthy respect for Sendatsu’s abilities. He had to take Jaken’s son out immediately. The humans would be easy to kill afterwards.
‘This looks like the perfect spot,’ he announced, surveying the thick undergrowth with satisfaction.
He turned to see what Jin and Taigo thought — and then the bushes exploded around them, dozens of humans leaping out, clutching thick clubs.
Hanto reacted without thought. His sword leaped into his hand and he cut down the first human who came near him, the sharpened steel slicing open the human’s neck and into his chest. He had a space and took it, spurring his horse through. Behind him, though, Jin and Taigo were slower to react. Jin fell, a thrown club knocking him off his horse, while Taigo was swarmed over by humans, who beat him to the ground.
Hanto screamed with fury and nearly turned his horse to take revenge — except sense and training reasserted itself. He was almost clear and he should not waste that. A lone human tried to chase him but he cut back viciously, feeling his blade strike home and seeing the blood spurt as the human reeled away. Hanto slammed his heels into the horse’s sides and felt it break into a gallop — just as another group of horsemen came around the corner of the trail, swords drawn. Beyond reason, Hanto charged into them. The first he overpowered with several swift strikes, a dragon-tail stroke taking the man’s head. But the trail was too small and he could not get past the others easily. He blocked a sword coming for his head with ease, looked for a chance to get past — and then fell from his horse as a thrown club crunched into the back of his head.
‘Nice throw, sarge!’ Ricbert exclaimed.
Broyle ignored him. He was more concerned about the three elves he had brought down — and just what they were doing here.
‘Who are you?’ an educated Forlish voice demanded — the sort of voice that belonged to an officer. Broyle glanced up at the small party of horsemen who had arrived at just the right moment to trap the third elf — although it had cost their lead rider. For a moment he was about to order his men to attack, then the Forlish accent hit home.
‘Greetings!’ He forced a smile. ‘I am Sergeant Broyle of the king’s Third Regiment. I know you are also Forlish from your voices — but these are dangerous times for Forlish to be riding in small numbers. Who are you?’
‘I am Hector of Hamtun, on a mission from King Ward himself,’ the man blustered, fumbling in a pouch at his belt.
‘So you’re not an officer then?’
‘No, although I have the honour to command these king’s guards.’ Hector produced a king’s seal and flourished it triumphantly. ‘I have need of your men, sergeant. Whatever your orders, my mission is more important,’ Hector said proudly.
For a moment only, Broyle felt a flicker of fear, then he shook his head. ‘No,’ he said simply. ‘Instead, I shall take the seal and your men.’
‘But this is the king’s seal! You must obey it!’ Hector squawked.
‘Only in Forland,’ Broyle said grimly. ‘And we are not in Forland.’
Hector looked around desperately but he had only a handful of men. More ominously, he had the feeling mere numbers would not stop this man. Besides, his corporal had just died and he doubted whether his remaining men would obey him.
‘But you don’t understand how important this is! I am chasing a runaway the king himself wants back … a dancer, who is travelling with a bard and an elf!’ he cried.
Broyle, who had been walking forwards to take the king’s seal out of the fool’s hand, stopped.
‘What did you say?’ he demanded.
‘My daughter was promised to King Ward himself. But she has been stolen by a bard, helped by an elf and they are now travelling around Vales …’
Broyle waved the man to silence, a chill rippling up his back.
‘Your daughter, you say?’
‘Indeed!’
Broyle nodded. ‘I think we might be on the same path,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I am chasing an elf, a bard and a dancer, who are travelling from village to village, showing these Velsh how to protect themselves with walls and strange crossbows …’
‘That’s them!’ Hector said excitedly.
‘This trap was supposed to catch them. Instead we have found something else, something even stranger.’ Broyle signalled and his men dragged the three unconscious elves over, making sure their hands were tied tight. ‘I think we need to work together.’
‘Good.’ Hector felt relief flood through him. ‘Then you will follow me and help me catch them …’
‘No.’ Broyle shook his head. He could see a clear way forwards now, made easier by the king’s seal. ‘You will come with me and help me set up a trap for them.’
Hector listened, mouth open, as Broyle outlined his plan to lure Rhiannon, Huw and the elf back to Patcham.
‘And you shall set up the trap. My men cannot enter a Velsh village and be believed but you can. Tell the story often enough and it will reach your daughter’s and her friends’ ears. They will come running to protect Patcham and fall into our trap.’
Hector gulped. ‘And you are sure you will be able to break their defences?’
Broyle smiled wickedly. ‘I saw those walls up close. They are only there to slow us down enough for their damned crossbows to cut us to pieces. But we shall be shielded from them, have no fear of that. All we need is enough men — and now we have your king’s seal and the promise this is a mission from King Ward himself, we shall have no pro
blem in persuading raiding parties to join us.’
‘And what if I disagree with your plan? What if I think it too risky and refuse to force Forlish officers to serve under you, a mere sergeant?’ Hector challenged. He liked the idea — but not so much the part where he told every Forlishman within a quarter-moon’s ride what he was doing, given he had no such orders from the king.
‘Well, then I shall kill you and pretend the king’s seal was given to me,’ Broyle stated simply.
Hector gazed at him for just a moment before smiling broadly and holding out his hand.
‘Then I say we have a deal,’ he said pompously.
‘Excellent.’ Broyle ignored the hand. ‘Do you know anything about elves?’
‘Well of course! Why, I am as versed in elven lore as stories of our own fair Forland …’
‘Good. Your first job will be speaking to these elves. First one appears, then these three. I want to know why.’
‘Do you think these were the ones who killed Cenred and the others?’ Ricbert asked.
‘If they are, they will wish they hadn’t,’ Broyle promised.
‘What was that noise?’ Sendatsu asked.
‘Probably just a fox taking a rabbit,’ Huw dismissed.
‘I don’t think so. It was men’s voices, and the sound of steel on steel,’ Rhiannon said dubiously.
Sendatsu looked at the trail, how it wound through cuttings and woods, and pointed off to the north.
‘I think we’ll take the long way round,’ he suggested.
‘Are you sure? We won’t get there until noon, at least,’ Huw grumbled.
‘Going in there is a bad idea. Trust me — I am not making up what I heard. You will hear no more lies from me …’
‘I’ll believe that when next I see pigs circling overhead, looking for a tall tree to nest in,’ Rhiannon commented.
Huw began to laugh, then trailed off when he saw the expression on Sendatsu’s face.
‘Enjoy your joke but I think we should still ride the long way round.’
‘Let’s go then,’ Huw agreed.
Rhiannon said nothing. She had lain awake last night for ages. Not because she was listening to Huw and Sendatsu talk — she could not hear what they were saying. She had strained to hear them at one point then decided she could trust Huw. He wanted the elf to help protect his people, which was understandable. But he would not do anything to hurt her, trick her or lie to her. She knew it deep inside. No, what kept her awake was a feeling she had. It had been as if the woods around her had woken up and were calling for her attention. For a few moments she could feel everything around her — from the insects in the grass to the birds in the trees and the animals in the bushes, as well as every plant. She would have been sure it was some sort of strange dream — except her eyes had been wide open.
So she had lain there, trying to recapture that feeling. It was better than dancing, far better than singing, even better than having a room full of people cheering and applauding her. But although she strained, although she tried to reach out with her mind to the woods around her, nothing happened. Her sleep had been haunted by dreams of strange creatures. But not just any creatures — by dragons. She knew them for what they were, although she had never really enjoyed the tales of dragons. They were all through the various elven stories, even claiming they were friends of the elves, but she had found them boring. They were just big lizards really, and she did not like the small ones she used to find in the thatch at home, so the idea of one as big as a house did not excite her. She would much rather hear about beautiful elven princesses, about huge elven parties — dancing and singing. She had usually dozed off, or thought about something else when dragons came up.
But when they swooped through your dreams, it was much harder to ignore them. Especially when they looked nothing like their pictures! These dragons were brighter, stronger and far more beautiful than the pictures she remembered. They moved with a grace that could never be captured on a scraped lambskin. And they had taken her flying. It should have been terrifying but soaring through the air had been pure joy. How she could have conjured such amazing creatures into a dream, when she had never liked them and never thought about them before was bewildering. But she hoped she could dream of them again. Just thinking of them now made it harder to stay angry at Sendatsu. They did not seem to want to share her mind with anger and frustration.
‘Wake up, elf!’
Hanto opened his eyes to see himself surrounded by armed humans. He tried to rise, only to find he was tied tight, while his head ached abominably.
‘Release me, gaijin!’ he snarled.
‘What did he call me?’ the human leader turned to an older, plumper human at his side.
‘I think it’s an insult.’
Broyle sighed. ‘I’d worked that out for myself. Listen, elf — what are you doing here?’
‘Let us go or you shall suffer the consequences! You do not know what I am capable of!’
‘What if he uses magic on us?’ Hector whispered.
‘We’ve got men with swords right behind them. The moment they try anything, they will lose their heads.’ Broyle waved Hector away. ‘Try and talk some sense into the elf. I want answers. If he won’t give them, then we’ll have to make him scream.’
Hector nervously kneeled before Hanto.
‘Honourable elf. We seek answers. Tell us what we need to know and we promise to let you go unharmed.’
Broyle opened his mouth to say he would promise no such thing but decided to leave Hector to it.
Hanto was both insulted and infuriated that mere humans had dared attack him and tie him up — but he was also very aware he was at their mercy. Once out of his bonds he had no doubt he could escape but he needed to use darkness, and magic, to achieve that. Perhaps he should play along until then.
‘What do you need to know?’ he asked, forcing himself to sound polite.
‘What are you doing here? Are you helping the Velsh?’
Hanto snorted. ‘Help humans? Are you mad? I am here to recapture a fugitive, a murderer, and bring him back to justice.’
Hector glanced back at Broyle, who signalled him closer.
‘Do you think he is lying?’
‘Elves don’t lie. It is impossible for them to do so,’ Hector said with all his authority.
‘So are they after the same elf we are?’ Broyle asked.
‘Probably. If they are, do you think they could help us?’
‘No!’ Broyle said scornfully. ‘We have to take the elf back to King Ward. We’re not handing him over to these three.’
‘But they could defeat the elf we’re after and then we can take him from them …’
Broyle shook his head. ‘Too risky. But we need to find out more about this elf we are chasing, as well as what he is doing here — does this mean the elves think they can just roam around Vales at will?’
‘Do you want me to ask them more questions?’
‘Not right now. The three we’re after could be along any moment — we’ll tie them to a tree, prepare the ambush again, and wait.’
‘I’ll try to do all the talking but Rhiannon, I shall need you to demonstrate the crossbow,’ Huw said, as they rode into Brynmawr.
‘Fine. I have the perfect target in mind. It is small but I shall enjoy trying to shoot it off anyway,’ she declared, staring at Sendatsu for the first time that day.
He kept his mouth shut.
Three riders were enough to excite interest, especially when one was an elf, but Huw and Rhiannon were well versed in calming the people down enough so they heard the message.
‘We have heard strange stories. Of raiders around Vales, striking in the night,’ the village headman, Aled, said darkly. ‘We have seen nothing ourselves, although several lambs and pigs have gone missing, more than the wolves and foxes could possibly have taken.’
‘Well, we are here to tell you the stories are true. There are raiders loose in Vales. They are Forlish, sent here by
their king to terrify us, so that we beg for his protection and give up our freedom in exchange for peace,’ Huw said grimly.
‘Forlish? We had a merchant here last night, as well as his guards …’
‘Yes, well these ones come in the night with swords and fire — they don’t offer to trade.’
‘So how can we stop them?’ Aled groaned.
‘I can show you a way. We have been around to many villages and showed them how to stay safe, how they can live without fear,’ Huw declared. ‘With this!’ He held up his elven crossbow.
The villagers listened, fearfully, as he explained how a wall of earth or wood, or both, around their village would stop the horsemen — and then the crossbows would kill them. They watched as Rhiannon peppered a small straw target with crossbow bolts.
They were impressed but not convinced. So, finally, Huw had to go to Sendatsu.
‘And here to help you is an elf — a real elf from Dokuzen, here to help us defeat the evil Forlish plan!’
Now the people reacted again, villagers pushing forwards once more around Sendatsu.
‘Use some magic! Show us how you’ll protect us!’
‘Are the elves coming to save us?’
Huw and Rhiannon worked to clear a space around Sendatsu.
‘I cannot save you with magic. It does not work like that. And do not pin your hopes on elves saving you either. You must save yourselves,’ Sendatsu told them.
There was plenty of muttering at that.
‘Well, what can you do?’ Aled finally asked.
Sendatsu strung his bow, produced an arrow and swiftly drew and loosed, making the target full of Rhiannon’s crossbow bolts explode in a shower of straw.
‘I can show you how to help yourselves, not just to stop the Forlish raiders, but to live better,’ he offered. ‘The wisdom and strength of Dokuzen. All you have to do is ask for it.’
There was a quick discussion among Aled and several of the older Velsh, then they turned back to the waiting trio.
‘Tell us what we need to do,’ Aled said simply.