Bridge of Swords

by Duncan Lay

  ‘There’re nearly forty of them,’ Sendatsu reported. ‘They will be here by noon — not enough time for us to make crossbows, let alone a wall.’

  ‘Then we must ride out and meet them,’ Huw said calmly. ‘After all, we outnumber them more than three to one.’

  ‘What? These boys aren’t ready to take on that number of Forlish!’ Sendatsu growled. ‘We could lose half of them.’

  ‘Then you tell me a way to defeat those Forlish without seeing fighting inside the village,’ Huw demanded.

  ‘Huw, we’re not ready yet — I don’t want to lose these boys,’ Sendatsu pleaded.

  Huw smiled, a little. ‘What’s this? Not only did you tell me we can’t save everyone, but then you were walking around, praying to find Forlish to kill in your lust for revenge, after Rheged. Now you tell me you don’t want to fight or risk anyone!’

  Sendatsu was about to argue, then realised the truth. ‘I don’t want to see them die,’ he admitted. ‘I would rather they stay alive than see the Forlish punished.’

  ‘Then find a way to win,’ Huw said forcefully.

  Sendatsu sighed and looked at the huge piles of spoil that marked the way into the village.

  ‘All right,’ he said thoughtfully.

  ‘Good. I’ll go and talk to the headman, make sure he knows what we are about to do — and that he needs to be grateful,’ Huw said grimly.

  Asami half wondered if Gaibun was really going to help her — or betray her. It was one of the reasons she had sent him away to make the first move on the tombs. She waited, trying to keep the nerves at bay, eyes struggling to pierce the darkness and see Gaibun in action. She told herself there was nothing to worry about. They may not have a marriage of love but they were still close. He was a man of honour, he had always been so. It had cost him, several times, in competitions against Sendatsu — just as it had cost his father against Jaken.

  Still, as time dragged on and nothing happened, it became harder to convince herself. Just when she feared he was not going to act, the two torches at the front of the building were snuffed out by a sudden wind. Asami felt the breath of the magic and nodded approvingly.

  The guards reacted instantly, some rushing to relight the torches, the others clustering together to watch the shadows, swords in hand.

  As the torches spluttered back to life, a stone flew out of the night and struck one guard on the temple. Before the elf had even hit the ground, Asami — and the guards — saw a shape at the edge of the trees in the torchlight.

  ‘After him!’ someone ordered.

  Four guards raced out into the night as the figure vanished once more. But that still left five elves out the front of the only entrance to the building.

  Still, that was half of them gone, she reflected. Instantly she turned towards the back and reached out into the magic, bringing the trees alive.

  The guards shouted as tree limbs suddenly sprouted longer, reached the roof and began to rip the tiles away, opening it up to the night sky.

  ‘Stop them!’

  Three of the guards raced around the back, where they began fighting the trees not with their swords but with magic. Asami could feel their attempts to drive her back and ruthlessly pressed forwards, overwhelming their limited magic abilities with her superior strength.

  ‘Help!’ one cried as they were driven to their knees.

  The remaining two bent their concentration to the task of helping their comrades — and instantly Asami stopped the flow of magic, instead racing across the open ground. Distracted by the effort of using magic, their whole bodies directed towards the trees at the rear, they did not react quickly. Asami jumped high and took one out with a kick, then landed and struck the second across the back of the neck with the rigid edge of her hand. They fell, while the three at the back were already sprawled on the ground, stunned by her magical assault. She reached into the magic and forced open the chains on the door then, with a quick glance around her, stepped into the tombs.

  Captain Leofric watched the village cautiously. He had been in Vales for the past month now, and what had at first seemed like a ridiculously easy task had been growing progressively harder. The Velsh villages had been easy to raid. A quick charge inside, fire a couple of houses, kill anyone who tried to stop them and grab food, valuables and women. It had been almost too easy. The Velsh had no weapons, no organisation and no defences. But then he had begun to come across villages fortified by walls. To a man used to smashing through the stone walls of Balian towns, the earthen or wooden walls looked small and flimsy. But he quickly learned he had neither the equipment nor the numbers to get through even these pitiful defences. Far from being slumbering sheep, these Velsh villages had teeth. They always had guards on and big dogs who barked warnings. Any attacks were met with a stinging hail of small crossbow bolts. These may not be big enough to punch through shields but were deadly to his unarmoured men. One might not kill you, but they came in swarms. After losing six men in one attack, he learned to steer clear of these villages and strike only at the undefended ones.

  But there were fewer of these around and his men were getting hungry — and restless. They had taken little plunder and were a long way from any taverns or whores. So Leofric had brought them into the northern province in the hopes of finding both more undefended villages and richer pickings.

  ‘No wall around this one, sir — but they might have seen us coming,’ his scout reported.

  Leofric spat as he looked up at the village. He could tell it was there from the smoke, and while he could glimpse huts in among the mining spoil, there was little movement. He chewed his lip as he contemplated moving on in search of yet another village. He glanced over his shoulder at his men, who were eating the last of their food and trying to fix broken saddles and tack. Already a handful had horses that were going lame. They needed a rich haul.

  ‘We go in. Fast. If they have seen us, why aren’t they running?’ he decided.

  ‘Maybe they are planning a trap, sir,’ his scout suggested.

  ‘Velsh? A trap? With what? They have no army, no flag, no weapons — nothing. They won’t be able to stop us,’ Leofric snorted.

  And so it seemed as they rode swiftly up the rutted path into the village. It was not too steep, for both animals and carts had to make the trip safely, which meant it did not travel in a straight line but instead zigzagged up the hillside. Nobody was running, there was no sign of alarm — it was just as he hoped, just as it had been when they had first come to Vales.

  The horses, blowing hard from the long ride and then the gallop up the path, slowed down as they reached the top and began to thread their way through the piles of mine spoil. Ahead, Leofric could see both the village and a handful of people running away. He relaxed.

  Then an arrow flew down and tore out his throat.

  The shocked Forlish watched as their captain flew backwards out of his saddle and crashed into the ground, a white-feathered arrow sticking out of the bloody mess that had been his neck. But they had no time to react.

  Men appeared on the top of the spoil piles now, men cheering and singing, standing beneath a flag of a red dragon. Men who held strange bows. These were not the crossbows that loosed small bolts no thicker than a finger or much longer than a foot. These unleashed arrows the length of a man’s arm, tipped with a wicked steel head. Many of these missed but those that hit sent men and horses tumbling to the ground. And the Forlish were packed together, making them an easier target.

  ‘Off the horses! At them!’

  The sergeants jumped down from the horses, which could never hope to make it up the slopes of loose earth and rock, and led a rush at their tormentors. But the slopes were almost impossible to climb, especially while holding swords. Men needed to use both hands to steady themselves and, even then, many slipped and fell, rolling back down and often bringing others down with them. All the time the arrows snapped at them, often missing but also striking and hurling men over. Then, just as the first Forlish wer
e getting close to their prey, one of the bowmen threw down his bow and drew his sword.

  ‘At them!’ he bellowed and lunged down the slope.

  Bows clattered to the ground, swords were drawn and the Forlish were astonished to see the bowmen run at them.

  The tombs were even darker and dustier than Asami remembered. She had a picture of it in her mind, and an idea where the books would be waiting at the back, but it was too hard to see, even though moonlight was shining into the tombs from the cracks she had opened in the roof and back wall. She could have used the dust that lay thickly on every surface, ignited it into a fiery ball — but she feared she would need all her energy for magic before this night was out. Besides, she had placed a candle in her pack for a reason.

  She lit it swiftly and then hurried forwards, dodging past the actual tombs to where she remembered the cabinet of books stood.

  They were right where she expected them to be — a huge case pressed against a wall. Swiftly she scanned it for a lock, not really paying attention to the books inside. Once she had access to them she could scan them properly, find the ones she needed. She planned to smash open the weapons cabinet afterwards, take some of those items as well. With a little luck, she could take just one or two books, lock up the book cabinet again and nobody would know these had been her real target.

  The lock was tucked underneath and she reached for the magic, using it to heat the metal inside the lock, allow it to spring open. With a reluctant squeal, it clicked back and she could throw open the doors. She had expected the books to smell stale and musty but there was nothing like that. No matter, Sendatsu’s return was within her grasp. She reached out a hand and touched one, feeling its slightly rough cover …

  Next moment the whole building shook, like a tree in a gale. She snatched her hand back instinctively before she realised it could not be her.

  ‘Come out! We have the building surrounded! Don’t make us come in there!’ a magically enhanced voice boomed through the tombs.

  Asami glanced up in horror. It sounded much like Jaken’s voice. And if he was here, then she had been betrayed. She would be lucky to escape with mere banishment … If she sealed up the cabinet now, pretended this had all been a joke, she might just escape. But if she left without the precious books, then Sendatsu would be lost forever. There would be no second chance at this.

  Even as she thought that, she reached in to grab a handful of books — only for another hand to haul her back and away.

  Sendatsu had hidden on the rear slope of the spoil with half the dragons. It had been a hard wait but he kept his fears to himself. He needed to set an example. Several of the men had slipped down to the bottom to empty their bowels — only the fact they were so young and thought they were invincible thanks to their elven training stopped even more signs of fear. So he smiled and tried to look relaxed, although inside he was worrying about keeping them safe. The thought of seeing them die had his insides knotting themselves ever tighter.

  As the Forlish slowed at the top of the slope he rolled to his feet and stood, sighting on their officer. He willed the arrow to strike home — and let out a huge breath of relief when it tore out the man’s throat, although he had been aiming for the chest. It was the signal and the dragons surged to their feet and began pouring arrows down. Most of these missed — but any that hit were deadly, while Sendatsu picked off man after man. He glanced left and right and the dragons were all standing strong. He looked down at the Forlish, struggling to climb up the piles of spoil to get to his boys, and dropped his bow. He had planned to just loose arrows at them but too many were missing. He would have to take them on. While he quailed at the thought, his dragons were taking so much heart from the simple act of singing that he drew his sword and pointed it at the Forlish.

  ‘At them!’ he bellowed and led the charge down the slope.

  The leading Forlish looked up in surprise, for they had been concentrating just on staying on their feet. They were also tired, breathing hard from the climb — and Sendatsu and the dragons had all the momentum. Too much momentum, for once they began, it was impossible to stop. Sendatsu unleashed a massive cut that the first Forlishman could not block. His sword crashed through a despairing parry and sank deep into the man’s chest. Sendatsu twisted his blade, ripping it clear, but could not recover in time to strike the next man. No matter. He swivelled and shoulder-charged the Forlishman, sending him flying and giving himself the time to use the tiger-claw stroke, which split apart a Forlish head.

  Behind him his dragons flooded into the gap he had created, hacking and slashing with more enthusiasm than skill but using numbers and the advantage of speed and height to drive their veteran foes downhill. Above them was the flag bearer, the only dragon who had not charged, who instead waved the dragon flag from side to side.

  From inside the village, Huw and Rhiannon saw the signal and led the rest of the dragons out, charging down the path into the Forlish who were falling back in disarray. It was too much for even troops as good as the Forlish, who turned and ran, grabbing their horses if they could, just sprinting for it if they could not get near a horse.

  ‘Chase them! Get every horse, every sword you can!’ Huw worked his crossbow, aiming at their legs to bring down as many Forlish as he could. A man might not die but neither could he run with one or more bolts in his legs.

  The dragons responded, overtaking the runners, until only a dozen mounted Forlish were able to get away. The others, seeing themselves trapped, turned and fought back to back, surrounded by knots of dragons who brought them down one by one, like dogs flinging themselves on a bear.

  Sendatsu seemed to be everywhere, his sword flashing red wherever he went, and he always seemed to be where a dragon was in danger, until there were no more Forlish standing, only those lying flat, hands on their heads, or flopping around in agony.

  ‘We did it!’ Huw reined in his horse by Sendatsu, who was covered with Forlish blood.

  ‘This was nothing,’ Sendatsu growled, looking to where two of his dragons were trying to help a dying third.

  ‘Wrong. This was the start. Now the people will see we are just as good as the Forlish,’ Huw corrected.

  ‘Time to go,’ Gaibun said firmly.

  ‘But the books — Jaken — what are you doing here?’ Asami cried.

  ‘Trying to save your life. Jaken is out there with half the Border Patrol and in no mood to take prisoners. I saw them coming and doubled back here — most are still flooding through the woods but if we don’t go now, they will have the place surrounded. I gave them conflicting orders, sent most of them off in the wrong directions, but, while they recognised my voice, they will also recognise we are not in the area I sent them unless we hurry.’

  ‘But the books … Sendatsu …’

  ‘Quickly then! Time is running out!’

  Asami saw the ones with blue covers, as Sumiko had said, and grabbed a handful at random. She stuffed them into her bag and turned to go.

  ‘This way.’ Gaibun pulled her towards the back of the building, not towards the front. ‘Jaken’s own archers are out there. To go out the front is death.’

  ‘But there is no other way out!’

  ‘You made one when you used the trees. How else did you think I got here?’

  They hurried to the far end, where the stone wall had split and made an opening wide enough for one person to squeeze through.

  ‘Wait!’ Asami held Gaibun back. ‘First let me use the trees to clear our path.’

  She closed her eyes and reached into the magic, feeling the trees come alive around her, the branches sweeping across the open ground in all directions. Elves were trying to fight her, to stop the trees, but she pushed through the opposition, although she could feel her strength draining.

  The wooden doors at the front of the building blew in, clattering and smashing their way into the stone tombs. It broke her concentration and both she and Gaibun ducked instinctively.

  Next moment the dark inte
rior was ablaze with light — literally ablaze as a dozen lanterns were hurled inside, smashing and spreading pools of burning oil.

  ‘Time to go.’ Gaibun squeezed through the gap and held back a hand for her. She slipped through, turning sideways, panting for breath, her legs wobbly after what she had done with the magic. The old stone was unbelievably thick and rough and she felt her clothing catch and snag on it as she squeezed through. Gaibun held her left hand, pulling her out, while her right was clasped around the top of the bag of books.

  ‘We’re clear, the elves out here are all down — but not for long. Move!’ Gaibun pulled on her hand but the bag was stuck. Desperately she pulled at it with her remaining strength — and it ripped and tore, the books spilling out back into the building. She stared at it in shocked surprise, trying to think but struggling with the magic fatigue. She could have sworn that bag could not have ripped. The tear had appeared as if by magic …

  ‘Come on!’ Gaibun hauled her away and she could not fight him.

  ‘Wait!’ She dropped to the ground, the only way to get him to stop. ‘The books — they fell out …’ She held up the torn bag as evidence.

  ‘We cannot go back,’ Gaibun told her grimly.

  She opened her mouth to protest but an arrow zipped between them before she could speak.

  ‘Move!’ Gaibun yanked her to her feet and she found new strength to run, while arrows whistled past them. Only the dark, and their dark clothing, saved them.

  Once in the trees, they stopped, looked back. Not only were Border Patrol pouring around the building, spreading out and searching for them, but smoke was pouring out of the old tombs. And none were making any move to fight the spreading fire, even though the stream was right beside it.