Valley of Shields

by Duncan Lay

  ‘Scouts only. They want to see if we have a trap planned,’ Sendatsu said, turning and waving to the archers behind him, hidden by the crest of the ridge.

  Beyond them was Dokuzen, lying like a jewel in the road, helpless and open to attack.

  To his far left waited his father and a mass of elves wearing armour, more than a thousand of them. They looked wonderful, until you got closer and realised half were barely able to stand due to the weight of the armour and the other half either had it hanging loosely or fitting too tight.

  To his far right were Gaibun and another mass, fewer this time but still an impressive number. At least they would look good from a distance, although only a handful had a weapon.

  ‘Scouts are in range,’ Cadel called and Sendatsu jumped guiltily, lost in thought when he should have been watching the advance.

  He turned and waved to the archers, who bent their bows, even the ones barely able to pick up an arrow without wincing.

  ‘Give me one last arrow. One more and you shall all be heroes,’ Jaken had told them.

  Now a thousand arrows rose high in the air and rained down on the Forlish scouts. They crouched, shields held high, desperately trying to make themselves a smaller target. The arrows turned, dropping down violently, slashing into the ground, bouncing off shields and sinking deep into flesh. In a heartbeat, a score of the scouts were screaming and the rest were backing off, dragging their wounded with them.

  ‘The real test comes next,’ Huw said.

  Edmund was conscious of time running out. The elven army must be racing back to their city. He had to swat away this last line of defence and take the elven city before the warriors returned.

  ‘They obviously think their arrows will have a greater effectiveness from that ridge. Well, we shall prove them wrong,’ he told his officers. ‘Full attack!’

  He managed to get the words out but had to struggle to contain his fear as he watched his men go forwards. If he had believed in anything other than himself and his king, he would have offered up a prayer for victory.

  On marched the Forlish, splashing through the reddened stream, stepping over the bodies and wounded of their comrades without flinching. The stone wall that had checked them for so long proved little of an obstacle now as they flowed over it, while the few remaining stakes caused barely a ripple in the lines.

  Caelin, Ruttyn and Harald were in the fifth line but had no doubt they would be called into the fight, no matter where they stood. Ruttyn was nursing a scratched cheek from a bird, while Caelin had three wasp stings and Harald two.

  ‘See you on the other side, sarge,’ Ruttyn whispered as they strode across the bodies of dead and wounded comrades.

  ‘There’s still enough of them,’ Huw muttered.

  ‘That’s all they have left, every man from their previous attacks and every one of them has run away from us before,’ Sendatsu said.

  It was a fearsome sight and, again, they began to bang swords on shields, making a harsh challenge that echoed across the ground.

  In response Huw began to sing, followed by every other Velsh dragon, even those unable to stand, their deep, rumbling voices making the hair on the back of Sendatsu’s neck stand up. He listened for a moment more and then signalled to the flag bearer, Bowen, who began to wave the dragon from side to side.

  To his left and right, Gaibun and Jaken led their strange groups to the top of the ridge, surging up in a powerful display. One moment there was nobody there, next a mass of brightly armoured elves filled the ridge.

  The Forlish advance checked, the men in the front rank instinctively knocking shields together to make an unbroken wall.

  ‘Come on. Fall into the trap,’ Sendatsu urged. He glanced across to his left, to the trees. This part of the plan had gone exactly as Jaken wanted. Now it was up to the Magic-weavers.

  Edmund raced out of the trees and scanned the ridge wildly. The small force that had blocked his way had miraculously turned into a large force. Still much smaller than his but he had seen only too well how those armoured elves could fight. Just three hundred of them had ripped apart a regiment of his men. Now there were two thousand of them up there. As he stared up at the ridge, wondering how he was going to punch through that many elves backed by those damned archers, the trees to the left and right began to shiver and then he heard the noise of thousands of feet on his left, followed by just as many on his right.

  He watched first one side, then the other. The sound of marching feet and the echo of shouted orders could be clearly heard on both sides. Although there was not a breath of wind, the trees themselves swayed with the force of their passing. It sounded as though thousands of warriors were advancing.

  With a sinking heart, Edmund realised the elven army must have arrived. Worse, his men also knew that. He and his officers had drummed into them the need for speed, kept telling them they had to take Dokuzen before the elven army returned. Now they could see and hear that it had returned and, although the Forlish were holding in place, he could sense they did not have the heart to take on a bigger force of elves. For a moment more he was tempted to draw his sword, lead his men forwards in a desperate race to get into Dokuzen before the trap closed around him but then sense reasserted itself. It would be death for every man under his command and leave Forland defenceless against an enraged elven army.

  He felt like vomiting. He had taken his army right to the gates of Dokuzen and been unable to finish the victory. He had let his king down and betrayed his country. He could not finish his disgrace by killing his men as well.

  ‘Sound the retreat,’ he croaked, then cleared his throat and forced the words out once more. ‘Pull them back. Do it! Now, before it is too late!’

  The horns sounded and the Forlish turned and began marching back hurriedly.

  ‘They believed it! They’re going!’ Huw crowed.

  ‘We have to chase them away, not let them regather themselves.’ Sendatsu drew his sword and began to walk down the ridge. ‘After them!’ he bellowed.

  As they had been told to do, the Velsh followed, giving a full-blooded roar as they advanced.

  That was enough for the Forlish. The sounds from either flank were getting louder, trees closer were quivering as if a great host was marching past and the Forlish broke. One moment there had been an orderly wall of men, the next there was a mob running for their lives.

  ‘Stop! Stop by the wall!’ Sendatsu jumped on top of the stone, stained with the blood of Forlish and Velsh, and the Velsh checked there, falling to the ground, too tired to even cheer.

  The last Forlish disappeared into the trees and, from the noise they were making, would not stop until they were clear of the elven forest.

  The trees all around stopped shaking.

  On the left Rhiannon and Asami appeared, along with a squad of Velsh. To the right Sumiko and Oroku walked out, followed by six elven warriors.

  Jaken had ordered horses brought to the rear of the ridge, in case it all went wrong. Now he galloped over on one of them and watched the last of the Forlish vanish into the trees.

  ‘We’ve done it! Dokuzen is saved — and the people shall not forget your human friends.’ He grinned, offering his hand to Huw, who took it with a smile. ‘We shall never forget what you did. We are in your debt. Our two people will be forever linked.’ Jaken hurried off to congratulate others.

  Huw staggered across to Sendatsu’s side, dropping his crossbow along the way, and offered his hand.

  ‘I did not think we would survive,’ he said.

  Sendatsu nodded, unable to speak. He ignored Huw’s hand and embraced him instead.

  Father Hiroka approached them next, his hands and arms stained with the blood of the men he had saved.

  ‘There are many who still need my help but we shall talk more about what happened here. The fact we could heal humans says there are mysteries we have not yet understood about Aroaril. It may be that today was a message, for us to spread the word of Aroaril among the human lands
. I must talk to my archbishop but I want to return with your people and see what I can do to begin the worship of Aroaril,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘You would be most welcome,’ Huw said enthusiastically.

  Sendatsu patted him on the back. ‘It is all coming true. All you wanted.’

  ‘It is almost too good to be true,’ Huw agreed. ‘Rhiannon, elven friendship, worship of Aroaril — I feel like I am dreaming!’

  ‘Except for the smell,’ Sendatsu pointed out.

  ‘Indeed.’ Huw turned to see dead Velsh wherever he looked. ‘We have paid a high price for this.’

  The two of them walked across to where Asami and Rhiannon stood awkwardly with Sumiko and the two squads of warriors who had proved so effective in fooling the Forlish.

  ‘Magic saved us here today — none should forget that,’ Sumiko said loudly, smiling as the warriors nodded agreement.

  She stepped closer to Asami and Rhiannon.

  ‘So, now we have won, have you considered my proposal? Are you willing to pledge your obedience and absolute loyalty to me?’ she asked gently.

  Rhiannon stared at her in surprise and dislike. ‘Never!’

  ‘Wait, we have not spoken about this yet,’ Asami said urgently.

  ‘But I think I have my answer anyway.’ Sumiko smiled at her. ‘And now I have business elsewhere.’

  ‘What was that about?’ Rhiannon asked as they watched her walk away.

  ‘I don’t really know. But I hope it was not important.’ Asami yawned. ‘I shall speak to her tomorrow, when we have had time to rest. We shall be able to work it out, whatever it is.’

  35

  But the barrier was linked to the magic and, as time went by, it got weaker and weaker. And while the truth about who could use magic might have been hidden, the truth always comes out in the end.

  Sendatsu’s song

  Edmund rode back through the forest, a black gloom around him. He had never failed before, never had to go in front of his king and admit defeat. He was tempted to draw his blade and end it all here but he could not leave it to another man to tell the king what had happened.

  That sent Edmund off into another spiral of depression. Without King Ward on the throne, what would happen to Forland? He had little confidence in either of Ward’s sons. They were good brawlers but poor leaders. He had seen their type many times in the armies of the king. They were fine to fight beside but you wouldn’t want them planning a war. He would have made them sergeants but never captains in the king’s army. King Ward’s vision of a united land, peace and prosperity for all was beyond them. They wanted conquest and plunder. They would doom Forland to endless war, for they would never be satisfied.

  But, after this, Edmund doubted he would be around long enough to see that happen. His fate would be swift and certain. In the meanwhile his duty was to his men, and getting as many of them home as possible. He had hundreds of wounded, who were dying all the time, as well as little supplies.

  He still had their obedience and discipline. A hundred or so had broken for good and run off into the forest, where no doubt the vengeful elves would hunt them down, but the rest had returned to orders once they had got out of that terrible clearing. He also had plenty of supply horses, and these were being used to carry the wounded out. Starvation seemed a real possibility — except the forest animals seemed strangely tame. Obviously they had never been hunted before, because the scouts reported they seemed unafraid of men. Certainly they stayed still long enough for men to put a crossbow bolt into them.

  He believed he could get almost all of them back to Forland, as long as the elves did not swoop down on them out of the forest. That seemed a real possibility. Edmund insisted on riding at the rear of the column. If the elves did attack, then he would die fighting. It was the least he could do.

  Caelin, Ruttyn and Harald led the column. They were scouts, after all, and that was the safest place.

  ‘What do we do now, sarge?’ Ruttyn asked.

  ‘Buggered if I know,’ Caelin admitted. ‘We’ve never lost like this before. Let’s get back to Forland first and we can worry about it then.’

  ‘Even the wife’s mother is going to look good to me if we make it back,’ Harald said.

  Nobody had the will to even smile.

  Lord Retsu waited at the oak tree impatiently. He had heard nothing more from Dokuzen and he was deathly afraid that meant he would arrive to find the city in flames and his family dead. Behind him, several hundred Tadayoshi warriors stood, ready and eager to fight but also terrified of what they might find on the other side.

  An oaken staff appeared out of the middle of the huge oak tree.

  ‘At last!’ Retsu said, relieved.

  ‘Lord, let me go first.’ A warrior stepped forwards but Retsu merely stared at him until he bowed his head, abashed.

  ‘There are still elves on the other side,’ Retsu said loudly. ‘I shall go first and you shall follow, and keep following until Dokuzen is safe or we are all dead.’

  The warriors roared their approval as Retsu grasped the staff and pulled himself through. As always, he experienced a moment of darkness and disorientation, then he stepped into the gardens around the lake at the heart of Dokuzen. He glanced around swiftly, his hand slipping down to his sword hilt, ready to draw and fight at a moment’s notice.

  Instead he looked into the grinning face of his son Gaibun, as well as the smiling face of his bitter rival Jaken. Behind them were a mass of elves, many of whom he recognised, all cheering and embracing.

  ‘Gaibun! My son, what is going on?’ Retsu demanded.

  Gaibun bowed his head. ‘Father, the gaijin have been defeated and are running for their lives!’

  ‘That is glad news indeed, but Lord Jaken — I thought he was imprisoned. Where is the Elder Elf?’

  Behind him, another elven warrior stepped through the gateway and relaxed when he saw the cheering crowd waiting for them.

  ‘I am the Elder Elf, Retsu,’ Jaken said. ‘I took over when it became obvious Daichi could not make the decisions necessary to save Dokuzen from the gaijin.’

  ‘You are the Elder Elf?’ Retsu asked.

  ‘I am. And I need to know if you will support and obey me. I offer a clean start for all, a fresh beginning not just for Dokuzen but for all of these lands. If you are willing, you shall be the new clan leader of Tadayoshi and a trusted adviser on the new Council.’

  More elven warriors were spilling through the gateway and looking around in wonder.

  Retsu saw Sumiko and the other Magic-weavers standing close by.

  ‘I see things have already begun to change,’ he commented.

  Behind him, the arriving Tadayoshi warriors recognised Jaken and Retsu could hear the muttering. He knew without hearing the words what they would be saying. There were some who still saw Jaken as their rightful clan leader, as well as others who had suffered under his rule and preferred their chances with Retsu. Of course he had no way of knowing how many of each faction were coming through. With Dokuzen at stake, he had not given a thought to politics.

  ‘Please, Retsu, there has been too much death here already, too much suffering. We cannot have elf fighting elf,’ Jaken said seriously. ‘Daichi is already dead and the old way of doing things almost led to our destruction. Should our feud lead to bloodshed in Dokuzen, when there are already many grieving families?’

  Retsu stared at Jaken for a long moment, before glancing around. All he could see were elves of his own clan, Tadayoshi elves he had known all his life, waiting for his decision.

  ‘You have never given me a reason to trust you, yet now you demand it?’

  ‘Father, things have changed,’ Gaibun said.

  Retsu smiled briefly. ‘As I can see. Well, Lord Jaken, this is your lucky day. It seems you are Elder Elf and I shall be your loyal right hand.’

  Jaken stepped forwards and embraced him as the elves around them cheered. ‘You shall not regret this,’ he whispered.

  ‘Oh, I
have no doubt I will,’ Retsu murmured back. ‘What happens now?’

  ‘Now we need to make sure there is no bloodshed from the other clans,’ Jaken said.

  Sendatsu watched as the takeover of Dokuzen was completed. Like the other Tadayoshi elves, he stood near the trees that were bringing Lord Moshin’s army home. At first it was easy, for the clans coming through were supporters of Jaken anyway, starting with clan Chenjaku, their loyalty so famous that Jaken had chosen Kayiko, the daughter of their clan leader, to be Sendatsu’s wife. These clans were used to being on the bottom of the social scale in Dokuzen and the news they were about to rise to privileged positions, coming on top of the news that Dokuzen was saved, had them rejoicing.

  On and on it went, Jaken taking aside clan leaders and other nobles to promise rewards and obtain promises of obedience until word came through that Lord Moshin and the lords of the other clans loyal to Daichi had arrived, on the last of the horses. Jaken snapped out orders so, when Moshin and the others finally stepped through, it was to see Jaken standing there, flanked by Retsu and four other lords, while behind them were more than a thousand elven warriors.

  ‘What is the meaning of this? Jaken, you are a traitor! What are you doing here? Where is Lord Daichi?’ Moshin demanded.

  ‘Daichi is dead. As you will be in a few moments if you do not stop talking and listen.’ Jaken stepped forwards a pace, while behind him, a hundred bows were raised.

  ‘Go ahead.’ Moshin glanced nervously to his left and right. More bows waited there.

  ‘I did what must be done to save Dokuzen. Daichi was not willing to make the necessary sacrifice to protect the people, so he betrayed us all. When I offered him the chance to make amends, he tried to have me killed. He is now dead and you have a choice: join me in a new beginning for Dokuzen or join Daichi in death.’

  ‘And you ask this question with a hundred arrows pointed at me?’