Bridge of Swords

by Duncan Lay

  He stormed forwards. Rhiannon stood her ground. She did not believe he would hit her again. He had never raised a hand to her before; his domination had always been through persuasion and guilt.

  But he was past all restraint. He struck her again, this time with his fist, sending her crashing to the ground.

  Rhiannon lay there for a long moment, her head a whirl of pain, trying to come to terms with what was happening. She could feel her cheek and eye swelling already as she pushed herself to her knees.

  ‘You will never hit me again,’ she stated flatly. ‘And you can forget about me doing anything else you want. I shall make my own life …’

  ‘Seize her!’ Hector ordered, driven beyond the borders of reason.

  Broyle and one of his men dropped their swords and grabbed her arms, hauling her roughly to her feet.

  ‘You think you have a choice here?’ Hector raved. ‘You will do what I tell you, one way or another! You are too valuable for me to give away. Do you know how much I have had to put up with over the years? I spent my whole life developing you for the court, so you would restore my fortune after your stupid bitch of a mother ruined everything for me. I listened to your idiotic fears, put up with your whining, I pretended to enjoy your company while I trained you and changed you from useless to useful. After all I have done, you don’t have the right to do anything other than what I tell you. You will return with me and you will bring us back into the king’s good fortunes in his bed — or you will be beaten every day until you beg to do what I want!’

  Even Huw and Sendatsu stopped struggling as they listened to Hector snarl at Rhiannon.

  Rhiannon stared at her father. His words cut deep inside, hurting more than the blows he had given her. But she would not let him know that.

  ‘Thank you, Father, for finally telling me the truth,’ she said carefully. ‘Now I know where we both stand.’

  ‘So are you going to listen to reason or do I turn you over to Sergeant Broyle here?’ Hector snapped.

  For answer, Rhiannon collected the blood still running into her mouth from her cut lip and spat it into his face.

  ‘You little bitch! You are even worse than your mother!’ Hector howled. ‘Tie her up!’

  ‘We don’t have enough rope,’ Broyle warned.

  ‘Then use the reins from their horses! I don’t care what you do but I will not tolerate that!’ Hector wiped away the bloody spittle.

  Broyle held Rhiannon, twisting her arms tight behind her back as his men collected reins, then tied her hands together, lashing the other end to a branch, forcing her arms up high.

  ‘Who do we start on first?’ Broyle asked eagerly.

  ‘I’ll take the bard, you work on the elf?’ Ricbert offered.

  ‘No need for gags any more,’ Broyle agreed. ‘But we had better hurry. Some of their friends might decide to come looking for them if we tarry here too long.’

  ‘Father, listen to me. There is no need to do this,’ Rhiannon said desperately. ‘I can still tell you all you need to know …’

  ‘But I don’t think we can quite trust you, missy.’ Broyle leered.

  He pulled the gags out of Sendatsu’s and Huw’s mouths.

  ‘Why don’t you try and hit a man, instead of your daughter, you fat bastard?’ Sendatsu shouted at Hector.

  ‘Oh, I plan to,’ Hector said conversationally, stepping up to Huw.

  Huw glared at him, hating him for what he had done to Rhiannon as well as what he had done to them both.

  Hector stared back at him with loathing. This was the man who had wrecked his careful plan, who had turned his own daughter against him. He let his rage build up to the level where he could not stop it and then unleashed a series of punches, hitting Huw in the face and body, not stopping until he was puffing and barely able to throw another fist, and blood was running from Huw’s mouth and nose and his eyes were swelling shut.

  ‘Is that all you have, you bastard?’ Huw spat out blood and tried to look defiant. He had been able to roll his head with most of the blows but enough had struck to leave his head ringing like a bell.

  ‘I shall be back, after Corporal Ricbert has finished,’ Hector promised.

  Rhiannon had tried to close her eyes and ears to the beating but the sound of fists on flesh, as well as Huw’s grunts of pain, had been too much.

  Sendatsu had watched Huw being hit and knew his own turn was next. Broyle was heating up swords in the fire and grinning at him. He tried to tense himself, prepare himself for the pain, tell himself that it would not be that bad — but he was still deathly afraid.

  Working briskly, Ricbert tore open both Sendatsu’s and Huw’s tunics.

  ‘Look at the elf — he’s covered in scars as it is,’ Ricbert declared.

  ‘Let us go now, or suffer the consequences,’ Sendatsu told them defiantly.

  The Forlish roared with laughter.

  ‘Let’s add a few more scars.’ Broyle withdrew a sword, its tip glowing, and walked over, pressing it against Sendatsu’s ribs.

  The smell of burning flesh was thick, Sendatsu’s scream was terrible to hear but the worst thing for Rhiannon was the sizzling sound.

  Huw tried to dodge his blade but there was no way he could move in his bonds. The sight and sound of what had happened to Sendatsu made the anticipation even harder — and it was as bad as he feared, a searing agony that whipped through his body. Although he tried not to, he screamed, part of him hoping that might even carry to the village, have his dragons hear and come to their rescue.

  ‘That was too loud. I think we should put the gags back in before the next one,’ Hector suggested.

  ‘I thought you were going to question them?’ Rhiannon said raggedly.

  ‘That can come later. Now we are just giving them a lesson. The Forlish are not to be defied. This will pay them back for all the good men they killed,’ Broyle said with relish.

  Two more swords were brought from the fire and the hot tips drawn down and across Sendatsu’s and Huw’s torsos, leaving ridged red burns behind. The pain of the second one was, if possible, even worse than the first, which still flamed. The pair of them bucked and shrieked at the agony of it, their cries muffled by cloth.

  ‘What about the girl? Do we give her a blade also?’ Ricbert asked.

  ‘No — her skin must not be broken, only her spirit,’ Hector ruled. ‘If she is damaged goods anyway, perhaps you need to use a different sort of blade on her to bring her to heel …’

  Broyle’s throaty laugh made Rhiannon’s skin crawl.

  ‘Leave her alone!’ Huw screamed around his gag, trying to use anger and hatred to block out the agony from his side.

  ‘Do you want to watch? You know, that might hurt him more than a hot blade,’ Broyle mused.

  ‘Father! You can’t be serious!’ Rhiannon cried.

  ‘You brought this upon yourself,’ Hector said coldly. ‘It is your fault. You pushed me to this. You must learn to obey me without question.’

  Huw had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to rip himself free of his bonds, revenge himself on the Forlish and save Rhiannon. To watch her being raped — Broyle was right, it would be even more painful than the hot blades. How could Hector allow this, let alone be the one who suggested it? The gorge rose in his throat and he strained to free himself. Surely the dragons would come, surely this could not really be happening …

  ‘Struggle all you like, there’s no way you’ll get free,’ Broyle told him, stepping close so he could whisper in Huw’s ear. ‘You planned to Walk The Tree with this girl. Now you’re going to see me and my mates take her and …’

  Huw shut his ears to Broyle’s filth and wrenched at the ropes with all of his strength. It was not enough.

  Rhiannon felt like her heart was a bird, trying to escape her ribcage, it was beating so fast.

  ‘Don’t do this! Father, you can’t do this,’ she begged.

  But Hector just stared at her.

  ‘You whored yourself to the
elf and Velsh. What is the difference?’ he growled.

  ‘Every difference in the world! Daddy, you were the one who raised me, protected me, who taught me about men, who braided my hair and picked my dresses … you can’t let this happen …’ She put everything she had into her plea, while she strained at the thin leather holding her prisoner.

  ‘I hated every moment of it,’ Hector spat. ‘I did it because it was the only way to restore my fortune. I made you into what you are because that is what I needed. Now you are no good to me. I need you to do whatever Ward wants and, until I am sure you will act that way, you are nothing to me.’

  His words drained the strength out of her and she hung there, an empty husk. Everything — everything — she had believed in, all she had known, had been brought down around her today. Whatever they did to her body would be nothing compared to what Huw and Hector had done to her spirit — especially Hector. He had been her whole world, he had been all she had known. And now he said that meant nothing? It was too much even for tears.

  Broyle and Ricbert cut the reins hanging from the branch, freeing her hands. She did not fight back, she just hung limply in their arms as they dragged her around the tree, right in front of where Huw was tied. She was vaguely aware of Huw fighting against his bonds and making desperate noises behind his gag. But everything seemed to be encased in ice, or locked away behind an invisible wall, at a distance from her. All she could see was Hector’s angry face, not a scrap of pity or remorse or sympathy there.

  ‘Are you really going to let us do this?’ Broyle hesitated and everyone looked to Hector.

  Rhiannon appealed to him with her eyes, silently begging him to prove his words were just anger and all they had shared, all he had done for her was not a lie.

  Hector glared at her.

  ‘Yes,’ he spat.

  That was the final straw. She went beyond anger, beyond tears. This could not be happening — this would not happen.

  And the world came alive around her.

  29

  I was flung into an old church of Aroaril, along with scores of humans. The last remnants of the lists the Magic-weavers had compiled, now rounded up or tricked by Naibun into coming here. With their passing, the Velsh, the Forlish, the Breconians, the Landish … all the people of this land would be greatly reduced. In here was magic, knowledge, light and goodness. Soon to be destroyed. Men and women from every country across the land prayed together, knowing that was all they had left. I gave them one flicker of hope, explained how the elves would be sealed off from the rest of the world until their magic was almost done, that the rest of the lands would be protected from elven conquest. It provided little cheer, although I found some myself in seeing the way men from Landia kneeled beside those from Forland, embraced Balians and wept with Skillian Islanders. Given something to unite them, these men had put aside their petty differences. Perhaps it could happen again.

  As for me, I wrote this account in the old language, Nipponese, and used my limited magic to protect it, hide it behind the Aroaril stone in this human church. Now my story is done. I hope it provides some guidance, some truth for those who follow me. For the barrier will decay over time and humans will again meet so-called elves. I shall be long dead, my memory wiped from history’s pages.

  Once again I pray a better Sendatsu can be found at that time.

  ‘No!’ Rhiannon told her father.

  She took a deep breath, and inhaled everything around her. She could feel the energy from the plants, sense the birds in the air, the animals deep in the trees and the insects on the ground. They were all there for her. For a long moment she did nothing, just exulted in the feeling. It fizzed through her blood, smoothed away the pain of her father’s blows.

  Everything seemed to call out to her, ready to do her bidding. Broyle and Ricbert grabbed her arms, prepared to hurl her to the ground.

  She spoke to the trees around, told them what she needed, and they did the rest.

  Branches scores of years old and weighed down with time swept across, suddenly given the springy whip of the newest twigs. They smashed into the two Forlishmen, sending them flying.

  ‘Skies above! The elf must be using magic!’ Hector roared.

  The other two Forlish guards ran at Sendatsu, swords at the ready, rushing past Rhiannon without a second glance. It was a fatal mistake. The old oak came to life and blasted them into the air, to be caught and hammered by other trees, until they fell limply to the ground.

  ‘Stop him!’ Hector bleated.

  Broyle and Ricbert came to their feet once more but she pointed at them and they were engulfed in insects. Ants and spiders swarmed over their legs, bees and wasps covered their heads and shoulders, more and more dropping out of trees, flying in or racing out of the grass around them. Broyle and Ricbert screamed in pain and terror as they were bitten and stung but their mouths only filled with their attackers, every opening of their bodies filled with tiny vengeance. Arms flailing, they tried to scrape their insect attackers away but hundreds more replaced every handful they managed to remove. They tried to run but could go nowhere — they fell to the ground and thrashed under huge mounds, until the only movement was the writhing of the insects as they fed.

  Hector turned and ran, fast as his legs would carry him.

  ‘Stop!’ Rhiannon shouted.

  A branch broke free of a nearby tree, thick as a man’s leg and twice as long, fell and then accelerated across the clearing. At first it aimed at Hector’s legs but then she jerked her hand up and, at the last moment, the branch swerved upwards and drove deep into Hector’s back, slamming through the chest and throwing him forwards, where he rested grotesquely, slumped over the broken branch, his blood draining into the soil.

  Rhiannon looked around but nobody was moving. Sendatsu shrank back as he saw the fire, the fury and the magic bubbling in her eyes — and then they closed and she fell limply.

  Sendatsu reached into the magic himself, changed the fibres of the ropes holding he and Huw tight and they fell away. He tore out his gag but the effort of using even that much magic, on top of what the Forlish had done to him, left him exhausted. His ribs were really hurting and his vision was beginning to swim, so he fell to his knees.

  Huw ripped the gag out of his mouth and rushed to Sendatsu’s side.

  ‘You saved us — you saved us with magic!’ he gasped.

  ‘No. Rhiannon,’ Sendatsu tried to explain. The ground seemed soft and he decided to lie down, just for a little while.

  Although Huw was in agony, his face and body on fire with pain, he needed no second invitation. He glanced over to where all the insects bar the ants were leaving what remained of Broyle and Ricbert, then raced over to where Rhiannon lay, unmoving.

  ‘Rhiannon! Are you all right?’ He picked her up in his arms, brushed her face.

  Her eyes fluttered open and took a moment to focus on him. He smiled nervously at her — then she shrank away from his touch, pushed him away. ‘Get away from me!’

  Huw felt a little part of him die inside.

  ‘Let me help you,’ he said softly, helplessly.

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t even want to see you right now!’ she cried.

  She felt as though she was about to fly apart. The shocks had piled up on each other, one after another — her father’s return, Huw’s lies, Hector’s lies, then his admission of betrayal … then the magic. The plants and animals and insects had been somehow connected to her. It had been both exciting and terrifying and, even now, she was not entirely sure it had really happened.

  How could she do magic? She was a human! But she had destroyed the Forlish — and killed her father. She had killed her father.

  He had lied to her. And Huw had lied to her, everyone she loved had lied to her.

  ‘You lied! You lied to me!’ she screamed at Huw, and at Hector, who lay behind him. She wanted to rage at her father, to tell him she was a strong, proud woman, not a plaything. That a daughter was not a m
an’s property and certainly not to blame for the mistakes made in his life. But he could not listen, so she had to shout at Huw instead.

  ‘I know, I am sorry.’ Huw held out his hands, knowing it was doing no good but hoping she could forgive him, offer him a second chance.

  ‘I trusted you, I believed in you — and you betrayed me!’

  Again, Huw could only agree.

  ‘You say it was for my own benefit, you were protecting me — but it was really all for you. Did you even love my mother?’

  ‘What?’ Huw stared at her, then glanced over his shoulder to where Hector lay.

  ‘Don’t mistake me for him,’ he said, heat coming into his voice now. ‘I take responsibility for my lie but I truly thought it was for the best. It was wrong and I am sorry. I know it does no good but I was going to tell you, today …’

  ‘That makes it even worse! How do you think I would feel, having Walked The Tree with you, for you to turn around and tell me that?’ she screamed.

  ‘I am sorry!’ Huw yelled back. ‘I was scared of losing you …’

  ‘Well, you are half right then! After what happened with Sendatsu, I can’t believe you tricked me, lied to me. Did he know as well?’

  ‘Sendatsu said I should tell you, he warned me I needed to be honest,’ Huw admitted. ‘He has nothing to do with this …’

  ‘This gets better and better! Were the two of you laughing at me behind my back — had you both planned everything from the start?’

  ‘No!’ Huw shouted back, the memory of when Rhiannon was with Sendatsu too painful to let go lightly. ‘That was Hector’s lie. What happened between us was real …’

  ‘Don’t mention his name! I never want to hear it again!’ Rhiannon bellowed.

  ‘I am sorry — sorry for everything. But you must understand that I did it all to protect you. You heard what your father was planning to do to you. I had to get you out of there and I knew explaining all that would take too long …’