by Duncan Lay
‘Asami!’ He saw her coming and smiled broadly.
‘What were you doing? What were you thinking?’ she demanded.
He steeled himself. ‘This is about Rhiannon, isn’t it?’
‘Yes of course it’s about Rhiannon! You slept with her and never told me. And now I hear you are murdering to protect her!’
‘What?’ Sendatsu stepped closer, lowering his voice. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Hanto! Did you kill him to protect your human lover?’
Sendatsu glanced around but Gaibun was nowhere in sight. Only one other person knew what had happened — but if Gaibun was going around telling everyone …
‘Answer me! I need some truth and, by Aroaril, I will have it!’
‘I killed Hanto not to save Rhiannon but Dokuzen! Huw said he would never surrender her to my father and we would have repaid the Velsh for their help by starting a new war with them,’ Sendatsu spat.
‘And the fact she was your lover had nothing to do with it?’
Sendatsu had never been furious with Asami before but now he was barely able to speak.
‘That was a huge mistake on my part and I have regretted it every day since. But you have spoken to Rhiannon since then — did she give you any indication she loves me?’
Asami hesitated.
‘And look over there — what do you see?’ Sendatsu grabbed Asami’s arm and spun her, pointing to where Huw and Rhiannon sat together, asleep, their heads touching, hands intertwined. ‘She loves Huw, not me. Never me. And I was never in love with her. How could I be, when you fill my head and heart?’
Asami felt herself weakening but she still had too much hurt and anger inside her.
‘But you did murder Hanto as he slept?’
‘Yes, I killed Hanto! But don’t think it was easy. I did what I had to, to protect my friends, my home and my family.’
‘I really don’t know you any more,’ she said. ‘The old Sendatsu would never have done that.’
‘Well, you kept telling that Sendatsu to take action, to do something, to stand up and control his destiny. You can’t turn around now and tell me you don’t want that,’ he said.
‘I don’t know what I want,’ Asami admitted.
‘Well, I do. I want you and I shall do anything to make that come true. And the way I am feeling, that includes facing Gaibun over blades.’
Asami shook her head. ‘No. I will never let you fight over me.’
‘Gaibun is working to his own designs. He is trying to turn you against me,’ Sendatsu said furiously. ‘It is the only way to solve this.’
‘Oh no, it is not.’ Asami shook her head. ‘Leave it to me. I have the truth from you and now I will get the truth from Gaibun. Once I have it, I shall decide what to do — not you two fools.’ She spun to go and find Gaibun that very moment but stopped when horns sounded, a harsh, blaring noise that had everyone springing to their feet.
Next moment, a pair of scouts raced out of the trees, horns in hand.
‘They are coming!’ one shouted.
Jaken felt the panic coming off nearly every man, woman and elf under his command and raced to stop it.
‘To your places! Remember your training! We are elves, and they are but gaijin!’ he shouted. ‘Remember who you are! You have magic, you have skills they can only dream of! You are fighting for your families, for your friends, for everything our forefathers left us!’
To the Velsh his message was a little different.
‘This is the day when you become friends of the elves. This is the day when you give your children, and their children, a better life. Stand with us and write a new page of history!’
Wherever he went, calm followed. He surveyed their positions with satisfaction then turned to Gaibun.
‘Find those two scouts and tell them if they ever try something like that again, I’ll give them a sword and send them out to take on the gaijin hordes by themselves.’
‘Yes, lord.’ Gaibun bowed.
‘Then get to the right wing. I think they will try the Velsh first but you never know your luck.’
By now they could hear the noise of the Forlish advance, the crash as thousands of men trampled new paths through the undergrowth, as well as the shouted orders from the sergeants.
‘Hand me my bow,’ Jaken ordered. ‘I hope not to draw my sword but I can still loose an arrow better than anyone here.’
Huw and Sendatsu made awkward conversation while Asami and Rhiannon pointedly looked in opposite directions.
‘Will we be able to hold?’ Huw asked.
‘We’ll have plenty of help. There’s a couple of thousand elven archers back there. They might not be in the best of practice, they might be no good if it came to blades, but the Forlish are about to give them the perfect target. We’ll save the crossbows for up close. The stream will break up the Forlish lines and then they will have to lower their shields to clamber over this wall. When they do, it’ll be close enough that you can’t miss,’ Sendatsu said with a confidence he did not entirely feel.
‘And the other problem?’
‘Is taken care of,’ Sendatsu said.
‘Here they come!’ a dozen Velsh called and pointed.
Through the trees they could see a horde of men. Forlish sergeants stood at the edge of the trees, a solid mass in a huge shield wall, at least three hundred warriors long and maybe ten deep.
The Forlish began beating sword hilts and spear hafts against their wooden shields, a frightening, thumping beat that echoed across the clearing. Behind that deep, rhythmic note they were also shouting threats and curses. The words were lost against the staccato thump of metal on wood, but the meaning was clear.
Sendatsu nudged Huw. ‘Sing.’
‘What?’ Huw was watching the display open-mouthed. He had thought the Forlish advance against Patcham scary enough, but that whole attack would not have formed one of those ranks.
‘They need to sing, need to drown out what they’re hearing.’
Huw glanced left and right, at the white faces and open mouths, and nodded. ‘Rhiannon, are you ready?’
Their powerful, beautiful voices began ‘Land of My Fathers’, thin and tiny against the din coming from the Forlish. But then other Velsh began to join in, first the dragon leaders, then the oldest dragons, the ones who had fought and beaten the Forlish at Morpeth and Patcham, then all of them. Louder and louder they sang, taller and taller they stood, until they were booming back at the Forlish and even the elves were watching them.
For a long moment the two sides faced each other, making the same amount of noise, but then the Velsh began to strike the stones in front of them with the hilts of their swords, in time to the song, a deeper, sharper sound than the one the Forlish were making.
Almost as if that were a signal that the Forlish could not bear to lose even this battle of voices, the shield wall went silent and began advancing, each man in perfect unison, feet stamping into the ground at precisely the same moment.
‘Keep singing!’ Sendatsu bent his bow and swiftly strung it. There was no shortage of arrows — the city had been scoured for them and sheaths of arrows waited behind the Velsh lines for their bowmen, a fraction of the piles that waited with the elven archers. But, best of all, the elves had made sure all the Velsh had swords, the longer elvish swords going to the best-trained dragons and the older Forlish swords passed down to the new recruits.
The Forlish were barely one hundred paces away, an easy distance for Sendatsu, and the sheer size of the shield wall made it impossible to miss. He drew back, exhaled, then in between breaths, loosed.
Everyone watched the arrow soar high and then drop steeply. Shields went up in the Forlish second and third lines but Sendatsu had aimed at the back of the Forlish wall. The arrow vanished into the midst of them and he had no idea whether it hit a man, was blocked by a shield or landed between. But it was a signal.
Bows were bent by every dragon who knew how to use them — which were only about fifty �
� as well as every elf that carried one. By the time Sendatsu had grabbed a new arrow and bent his bow again, hundreds of shafts were arcing through the air.
Some arrows were snapping in flat and hard, others soaring high and dropping steeply. The Forlish advance slowed as men tried to cover up, the front rank tilting shields up while the other ranks held them high, over heads.
Sendatsu loosed four arrows in quick succession and then paused to see what was happening. Gaps were appearing here and there in the Forlish line at the front; gaps that were filled swiftly because they attracted arrows the way wasps flocked to honey. The sound of arrows striking shields had replaced the beat of swords against shields. There were endless little ripples in the rear ranks as men fell and their neighbours shuffled together, knowing that to stay close and link shields was the only way to survive.
Sendatsu clambered up onto the stone wall for a much better view and laid an arrow on his string, but did not bend his bow just yet. This time he waited until an arrow knocked a hole in the careful line of the shield wall and then he drew and released, snatched another, drew and loosed as fast as he could, sending three arrows into the space before it could be closed up. Two more Forlish went down and now Cadel and several other dragons followed his lead, directing their arrows into that weak spot.
The Forlish wore chainmail vests and thick leather boots, none of which offered the slightest protection against a longbow arrow. Their solid wooden shields and metal helms held out the long shafts but they could not protect a man’s whole body. Men were struck in the legs and arms by the low arrows and fell, dragging others down with them, or were hit in the shoulders or necks by the ones coming in from high.
Their advance was slowed, as they hunched over like men advancing into a heavy storm, but it was not stopped. For every arrow that struck, three sank quivering into shields or fell uselessly to the ground. The Forlish were hurting, leaving behind scores of dead and wounded — but they were getting closer and closer.
‘Should we use magic?’ Rhiannon asked Huw, who was hefting one of the new double crossbows and checking its large hopper was full of the short, wicked bolts.
‘Not yet. Wait until we really need it,’ Huw shouted back.
The noise of steel tips hitting shields, the shouts and cries of men and the hiss of arrows was already loud but, from bitter experience, Huw knew this was nothing. Only when men fought hand to hand did the battle reach its crescendo.
Sendatsu loosed one more arrow, watching it vanish behind a shield and knock a Forlish soldier over, then jumped back down. His back was aching, while his arms and shoulders were sore from loosing so many arrows so quickly. He stretched and flexed, trying to get ready for when he would need his sword.
‘Here.’ Asami laid a hand on his arm and he felt some of the tiredness vanish.
‘Thank you.’ He smiled at her and they both began to say something, grinned and then invited the other to speak.
‘Sendatsu!’ Huw shouted and they split apart instantly.
The Forlish shield wall was now inching into the stream. One rank, then two, then three wading forwards, barely ten yards from the Velsh, all struggling to keep their formation. This close to the Velsh lines, they were protected from the elven archers and their lines became ragged as men fought through the fast-flowing water. It was no more than knee height at its deepest but that was enough to disrupt them.
‘Now!’ Sendatsu shouted, his words echoed by the dragon leaders a moment later.
Huw surged onto the wall, the rest of the dragons with crossbows a heartbeat behind him, and bolts soared into the mass of Forlish. At that range the bolts flew flat and true, a massive cloud of them. Like a swarm of biting insects, they found the gaps between shields and armour and burrowed in, sinking half their length into arms, faces and necks. They bounced off helms, armour and shields but made the Forlish duck and flinch, just when they wanted to charge home.
‘Stay off the wall — make them come to us!’ Sendatsu shouted, repeating what he had told them all before. They were used to following orders but, in the heat of battle, anything could happen.
The Forlish let out a huge roar and raced at the wall, desperate to close with their tormentors.
Sendatsu let them come. The stones of the wall were not right on the edge of the stream but there was no room for more than one man to stand on the space between the water and the wall.
The first Forlish arrived and tried to swing up at the Velsh but they only had their short swords, perfect for the close confines of a grinding battle but useless now. They tried to clamber up but the Velsh hacked at any arm and hand that came across the wall. Sendatsu sliced down, opening a man’s sword arm to the bone. The Forlishman reeled back, howling, and Sendatsu used his sword’s extra length to lunge at the soldier next to him, the tip of his blade sinking into the man’s eye. He heard the scream above the clash of swords.
The second rank of Forlish arrived, carrying spears. Trained to push the front rank onwards, over and across any resistance, they hustled the first line forwards, thrusting their spears up, creating some space as Velsh dragons ducked away from the threat of the sharp points. Some of the front rank used this opportunity to jump or clamber onto the stone wall, trying to take the fight to the Velsh.
But they were easy meat there. Velsh dragons thrust and slashed at Forlish legs. Burdened with shields made heavy by arrows and bolts sticking into their surface, weighed down by the armour and wet boots they wore, they were slow and couldn’t dodge. All were brought down swiftly, either to fall back into their comrades or onto the Velsh side, where shouting dragons found the gaps in their armour at the throat and groin and thrust swords home, soaking the ground in blood. The screams and pleading of the fallen Forlish were echoed by the Velsh shouts now. The Forlish line was disordered and more crossbows were triggered, dragons pumping bolts into men just one or two paces away. At that distance, they could almost aim accurately and even the small area of undefended Forlishman was an easy target.
Huw was right behind Sendatsu, crossbow at the ready. To their right, a Forlishman clambered up onto the wall and prepared to jump down. Before he could, Sendatsu used the cartwheel stroke to take the man’s leg off below the knee, the sharpened steel tearing through leather boot, flesh and bone as if they were straw. Shrieking, spraying hot coppery blood in all directions, the Forlishman toppled backwards, knocking others down behind him. Huw jumped forwards and worked the crossbow’s lever like a madman, pumping bolts into the space. Forlishmen cried out as the bolts gouged into faces and hands, one silenced in an instant as a bolt disappeared into his eye, sinking deep into the brain beyond.
Beneath them the stream ran red with blood and brown with shit as dead men clogged the water and live men used their bodies to climb closer to the Velsh.
The third rank of Forlish arrived then. Held back from the wall, some of them hurled their spears in anger and frustration.
Some found their mark, for they arrived out of nowhere, Velsh falling screaming or simply dead as the wicked spearheads ripped through clothing and flesh.
‘Let me at them!’ Gareth surged forwards but Sendatsu, blood covering his face and arms, pushed the frustrated dragon away.
‘Use the spears back on them!’ Sendatsu heard Bowen shouting and stepped back, risking a look to see what was happening.
Each spear was nearly the height of a man. Dragons picked up fallen weapons or pulled them out of the corpses of friends and turned them back on the Forlish. Trapped by the crush of men behind, the front rank had no hope of avoiding them and barely any chance to get their shields up. Not that those did any good. The heavy iron heads splintered shields and crushed armour, impaling men and leaving them dangling like bloodied dolls.
All the time the crossbows were finding chinks in armour, burrowing into faces and necks and eyes and hands, or taking fingers.
That was enough for the Forlish. Horns sounded and they backed away, not running but keeping their lines, still losing men
to bolts as they retreated, leaving a thick tangle of dead and wounded — far more wounded than dead, screeching and moaning as they bled and thrashed and splashed in the water, some men drowning faster than they bled to death.
The stream was horrid with bodies, blood and shit, the dead men’s bowels opening to stain the water and foul the air.
‘Stay where you are!’ Sendatsu ordered. The noise was hard on the young dragons and distressing to listen to — but it would be worse for the other Forlish.
The problem was the dead and wounded were making it easier for the attacking force to get up to the wall. Blood and brains covered the stones and made them more slippery but, in places, two or even three Forlishmen lying on top of each other at the edge of the stream reduced the height of the barrier.
‘Don’t throw any Forlish bodies out in front of the wall!’
The Forlish who had fallen or been dragged across the wall were left where they lay, although the Velsh picked up their shields, helms and swords.
Sendatsu and Huw walked down the wall, patting dragons on the back and exchanging grins with the delighted Velsh.
‘We beat them!’
‘For now — they will be back,’ Sendatsu warned.
‘How many are hurt? How many dead?’ Huw demanded as they walked.
The dead were being laid out by friends, while the wounded were helped away from the wall.
Sendatsu and Huw looked back to where Jaken stood surrounded by every priest of Aroaril in Dokuzen.
‘We need their help,’ Huw said angrily, looking down at one choking dragon, whose stomach had been opened by a Forlish sword.
‘Come, let us try now,’ Sendatsu suggested, glancing to where the Forlish were falling back in disarray. They used the break to hurry back to where Jaken stood, surrounded by elven boys who were running messages for him, as well as the priests.
‘Lord Jaken, we need priests to help our wounded. We defeated that attack but we have suffered dearly,’ Huw said.
‘Father, the dead and wounded are our most experienced fighters. Without them, I doubt we can stand another attack like that,’ Sendatsu added.