by Duncan Lay
‘And what sort of a father were you?’ he spat, stringing together a pair of dragon-tail cuts and finishing with a waterwheel stroke that forced Jaken to jump backwards. ‘I would have done anything for you!’
‘You were never good enough! You always shamed me!’ Jaken sliced high then kicked out at Sendatsu’s knee when that was blocked.
Sendatsu slid his knee outside the blow, keeping in balance before lunging once, twice, three times.
‘You were supposed to protect me, not to hit me.’ He aimed a reverse-cut at Jaken’s throat.
‘Do you know how many times I had to deny you were mine, when others pointed out the foolish boy running around Dokuzen?’ Jaken let Sendatsu’s cut miss by a mere inch then swung hard for his head and turned that into a chest-ripper in midair.
Sendatsu parried the second stroke. ‘Nothing I learned about being a father came from you. I do the very opposite.’
They lashed at each other, Sendatsu no longer caring that he was supposed to be merely stopping his father.
‘I want to forget you were ever mine,’ Jaken hissed. ‘You wasted your worthless life. I gave you everything and it spilled out of your empty head and hopeless hands.’
‘You are nothing to me or my children. You only ever cared about yourself.’
‘I was so happy when you born but you turned that into ashes. You are not fit to stand with me.’
‘I worshipped you but now I hate you.’
‘I wanted a son to make me proud. You only made me ashamed.’
Then they came together, swords grinding in a deadly circle. Around and around their swords went, neither giving an inch. Both knew the first to break would die. Sendatsu had always lost this contest before. In his father’s garden, thoughts of his children had let him hold on for long enough. Now he took every blow and sneer and shake of the head Jaken had ever given him and pushed them back at his father. For the first time, it was Jaken who could not hold the circle. His sword was flung high and wide and Sendatsu followed through without a moment’s thought.
His sword ripped low into Jaken’s chest and tore upwards. The razor-sharp steel scraped on his father’s ribs and then burst through his back. In his state of heightened awareness, Sendatsu could feel Jaken’s shock and agony.
He was instantly horrified at what he had done — and exultant at the same time. Now he cannot say I am not good enough to defeat him. Is he ashamed of me now? Then the knowledge of it crashed upon him and he let go of his hilt, catching his father as he sagged.
He stared right into Jaken’s eyes and saw the madness drain from them, like the lifeblood pouring out from the terrible wound.
‘Thank you,’ Jaken said, clearly and distinctly, in his own voice again.
23
When you see your father for the man he truly is, you can either confront him or befriend him. If you do neither of those things, then you will always be fighting with him. I wish you had the chance to confront me.
Sendatsu stared at his father in shock and fear.
‘Don’t talk, Father, we need to get you to a priest,’ he begged.
‘That was all the help I needed,’ Jaken choked, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth.
Sendatsu looked up and across to Asami and Rhiannon. Surely they had beaten Sumiko by now. He needed help or his father was going to die and he would be left with the memory of their last words.
But the four Magic-weavers were still locked together. Sendatsu reached for his father’s sword on the ground, trying to grab it and support his father at the same time, thinking he could hurl the blade at Sumiko and perhaps tip the contest.
‘Now!’ Sumiko cried and the tent supports exploded into splinters as she flicked her power out.
Asami and Rhiannon ducked and had to turn their powers to protect themselves as flying chunks of wood peppered the sides of the tent.
Sumiko and Oroku turned and ran, disappearing back through the partition as the tent came down with a creaking of tortured wood, the remaining supports outside unable to hold it up. Sendatsu could hear Rhiannon cursing as she tried to free herself. He and Jaken were on the ground between a pair of chairs that formed a small cocoon as the fabric fell, a miniature tent of their own.
The world had shrunk to just the two of them and Sendatsu reached out to the hilt of his sword, thinking to draw it out and staunch the blood that was pulsing out of his father.
‘Don’t,’ Jaken said distinctly.
‘I can’t leave it in there. You will die,’ Sendatsu said. ‘I have to stop the bleeding.’
‘You can do many things, my son. But you cannot do that,’ Jaken said. ‘Take it out and I will die in a few heartbeats and there are things I need to tell you, before the end.’
‘This is not the end. I will find Father Hiroka and he will heal you.’
‘There is no saving me now. I would not be able to talk like this otherwise. Sumiko promised I would only get my voice back when I was dying.’
‘I am sorry,’ Sendatsu said, his voice breaking. A few moments ago he had hated this man and wanted nothing more than to drive his sword into him. Now he could not stop his tears, which made his father’s face blur and shift before him.
‘Don’t be sorry. I am glad. Sumiko had beaten me and was going to humiliate me. To die with a sword in my hand, killed by a better warrior than I — I could wish for nothing more.’
‘I wanted you to see what I have become, what my children are becoming …’
‘I am not the fond grandfather type. I am not suited for the new world you are creating.’
‘But you cannot die,’ Sendatsu said. ‘I cannot kill you.’
‘You put me out of my misery,’ Jaken said, then gasped and coughed, spraying blood into the air. He grabbed Sendatsu’s arm fiercely. ‘My time grows short, so listen carefully. I am proud of you, my son. Those words I said were not mine but Sumiko’s. They may have been mine once but no longer. She planned this, so I would suffer to the last. Who was it I was trying to kill, and you trying to save?’
‘Asami.’
Jaken tried to smile but it was a weak, bloodstained effort. ‘I thought it might have been the human girl, Rhiannon. I think she is the greater threat now. I am sorry for many things but especially for not letting you marry Asami.’
‘It does not matter,’ Sendatsu lied. ‘I will kill Sumiko.’
‘Do more than that. Take power yourself. You don’t want it, which makes you the best person. Don’t put your trust in others. If you want a better world for your children, make it yourself.’
‘And will that make you proud of me?’ Sendatsu asked, the words jumping out of him before he could stop them.
‘No, because I am already proud of you,’ Jaken said, then stiffened with pain. ‘Only a true son of mine could have defeated me, could have freed me from Sumiko. I will go to our ancestors and tell them you will be the Sendatsu we need.’
‘Wait,’ Sendatsu begged.
Jaken shook his head and reached out to grab the hilt of Sendatsu’s sword.
‘Tell your mother I am sorry,’ he said then twisted the sword viciously. Sendatsu cried out in shock, echoed a heartbeat later by Jaken’s gasp of pain, then a fresh wash of blood poured out of his father’s mouth and his last breath rattled in his throat.
Sendatsu closed his father’s eyes with gentle fingers, and bowed his head. Awash with grief, fury at Sumiko consumed him. He took hold of his sword and drew it slowly, reverently, from his father’s body. He would bury it in Sumiko’s heart, he swore.
Awareness began to return to him, the feeling of being cocooned away with his father vanishing as he heard shouts and cries from the others. He looked around, trying to spot the best way to get out of the collapsed tent, when it flew off him, lifting up and away.
‘Nice work,’ he called. ‘Where is Sumiko?’
‘She has run off. Where is Jaken?’ Retsu replied.
Sendatsu gathered his father’s body in his arms, heedless of the blood
smearing him and stood. His father was thinner than he remembered but still had a powerful frame and he grunted as he stood with him. ‘He is here,’ he said raggedly.
Next moment Asami was at his side, staring down at Jaken’s head, which hung at a strange angle, blood leaking from his open mouth. Sendatsu thought she was going to say something to him but instead she grabbed his arm.
‘We didn’t take the tent away. Sumiko did,’ she said urgently.
He looked at her, seeing the dark circles around her eyes and noticing she was out of breath from her magical struggle.
‘Which means?’ he asked, his mind still full of his father’s last words.
‘Treachery! They have killed the Elder Elf!’ Sumiko’s voice boomed out of the darkness. Next moment fires leaped into life, the fallen lanterns burning high and lighting them all up. And more fires flickered into life by the elven lines, a hundred paces away, revealing a mass of archers. ‘Make them pay!’
Sendatsu heard the noise of hundreds of bows being bent and realised instantly the danger they were in.
‘The chairs!’ he cried, dropping his father’s body.
The wooden chairs were scattered across the grass; each had a wide base and a solid wooden back. Sendatsu grabbed one even as they heard the deep thrum of hundreds of bows being released.
‘Save Retsu and the others — I’ll protect you!’ he cried.
Of the others, only Rhiannon was close enough to reach the chairs. Gaibun was standing in front of Retsu, who was in turn in front of the other clan leaders. But a sword was not going to stop the hundreds of shafts that were even now whistling through the air, sounding like a flight of deadly birds of prey.
Sendatsu pushed a pair of chairs together and then raised another over the top. Asami and Rhiannon grabbed others and balanced them on top as well, creating a solid wall of wood to their front, the three of them clustering close together.
The sound of the arrows changed as they tipped over and began to fall. Sendatsu felt the surge of power as Asami and Rhiannon reached out, trying to deflect the shafts aimed at the knot of clan leaders.
‘Concentrate on Retsu!’ Sendatsu shouted.
Before either of them could reply, the arrows arrived out of the night, thumping into the wooden chairs with enough force to drive them down. The back of a chair bounced off Sendatsu’s head and he pushed upwards to protect Asami and Rhiannon, cursing as an arrowhead punched through, scraping against his hand. But the chairs took the brunt of the strikes, the noise of the impact almost deafening them.
Outside, it was far worse.
Rhiannon burned arrows up, and the clan leaders were bathed in a shower of ash, while Asami sent others spinning out of control. But there were hundreds, aimed by expert archers. Half the clan leaders went down, screaming in pain as one or more arrows sank deeply into their flesh.
Retsu was safe, as was Gaibun, while the others crouched down low, arms over their heads in a futile effort to protect themselves.
One last arrow tore a strip off the edge of a chair and bounced away, then the arrow storm was finished. Sendatsu lifted his head, letting the shattered chairs he was holding fall — and then heard the ominous sound of bows being bent yet again.
‘Over here, quick!’ He waved to Retsu and the others, then he grabbed Rhiannon’s arm. ‘There’s too many arrows — you need to make a shield with these chairs, a proper one.’
Rhiannon nodded and the other chairs scraped together, the wood warping and knitting to form a shelter that could hold all of them, without the need for risking hands and fingers and heads to hold it up.
Asami looked out on her feet and he dragged her to safety as the arrows began whistling again. The clan leaders ran for the shelter that Rhiannon had created — those who could still run. Gaibun grabbed his father and hurled him towards the shelter as the arrows dropped.
Again they smashed into the wooden cover Rhiannon had made, sending splinters tumbling down. Two more clan leaders were snatched away in an instant, although Rhiannon and Asami burned up arrows as fast as they could.
‘What do we do? Another volley will be coming in a moment and this wood is not going to hold,’ Retsu said grimly.
‘Asami?’ Gaibun cried, taking her hand.
‘I am fine,’ she said, but her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell forwards.
‘I can’t do it alone,’ Rhiannon warned.
‘We need a distraction,’ Sendatsu said. His eyes fell on his father’s body, riddled with shafts also and knew there was only one way. ‘I’ll run at them. When they switch their attention to me, get out of here.’
It was a mark of how desperate they were that nobody tried to contradict him.
Rhiannon whistled and the horses ran towards them, summoned by magic, while Sendatsu stood, preparing to make a last charge.
‘No, this one is mine.’ Gaibun grabbed his ankle and tripped him, then began to run.
Before Sendatsu could even shout out in protest, Rhiannon cried and pointed.
Out of the shadows, racing into the light of the fires, came Bevan, the Velsh Magic-weaver they had left back at the oak tree. He was not riding towards them, but at the elven archers. As those nearest turned their bows on him, he unleashed his magic, warping bows and arrows, turning the whole right of the line into disarray.
The warning shouts and protests threw the elves into confusion.
‘Quick!’ Retsu roared.
The horses raced up, more than they needed given eight clan leaders were dead, while Gaibun ran back to join them. Sendatsu threw Asami over a saddle and jumped onto the horse, grabbing the reins and holding her in place as he kicked it into a gallop. The others followed his lead, turned the horses and raced for the dubious safety of the darkness, knowing they were still well within range.
Sendatsu looked back over his shoulder to see Bevan’s brave but doomed ride.
‘No!’ Rhiannon cried, tears rolling down her face, as the arrows converged on him and plucked him out of the saddle. As she watched Bevan’s crumpled body, another volley was launched at them.
Rhiannon began burning the arrows up as they fell but, despite Bevan’s best efforts, there were still hundreds aimed at them. Most fell to the ground, ahead and behind them, as the archers struggled to find them in the dark. But a handful flew in on an impossible angle, powered not just by cord and wood and muscle but magic too.
The first warning they had was when one of the clan leaders screamed, his voice cut off as he dropped from his saddle to hit the ground with bone-crunching force. They turned to see Ichiro and the other remaining clan leader falling also, pierced by several arrows, with not even the time to cry out.
Rhiannon reacted instantly. She sent the four flying for her face spiralling away and burned up another dozen searching for Asami and Sendatsu, as well as a swarm hunting for Retsu.
‘We’re almost clear — keep going,’ Rhiannon called.
But then one more came in low, almost skimming along the top of the grass, to hit Retsu’s horse in its hind leg. Instantly it broke stride, coming to a halt, screaming with pain.
‘Father!’ Gaibun cried.
Rhiannon and Gaibun skidded to a stop, turning their horses to go back and help, Rhiannon flicking arrows away left and right. But still too many were coming in.
‘Ride! Get away! Stop Sumiko!’ Retsu roared, then he was hit twice, high up in the chest and in the stomach, doubling him over before he was struck in the back of the neck. He toppled off his horse.
‘No!’ Gaibun roared, racing his horse back to where Retsu lay limply. Retsu’s horse, struck several times, lay kicking and screaming.
Rhiannon stood in her stirrups, her face furious. As another swarm of arrows rose in the air, she clenched her fists — and they reversed their course, thumping down among the elven archers, the screams thin at this distance but still distinctive.
Sendatsu was about to ask why she had not done that earlier, when her eyes closed and she fell from her horse.
He cursed and urged his horse across, with some difficulty, as he was still trying to keep Asami with him, and grabbed the reins of Rhiannon’s horse. He clambered down, easing Asami to the ground and then looped the reins around the arms of Rhiannon and Asami. The horses were snorting and blowing from their exertions but they were also well trained and even that little effort to hold them seemed enough.
He ran over to where Gaibun was cradling the body of his father. Rhiannon had sent the archers into disarray but Sumiko still had her powers and, with Asami and now Rhiannon unconscious, they were defenceless — to say nothing of the thousands of elves who thought they had killed the Elder Elf and could ride across and take revenge before they had the chance to explain.
He grabbed his friend by the shoulder. ‘Gaibun, we have to go now!’
Gaibun was weeping over Retsu’s body, broken and bleeding. The first two arrows would have done damage but the last had torn his neck open. Sendatsu wondered what he was going to say to his mother when he returned. If he returned.
‘Move it! We stay here, we die. Asami dies. Your child dies. Get up!’ he barked.
‘My father is dead!’ Gaibun howled.
‘So is mine. But we are alive and their deaths will be in vain if we let Sumiko beat us.’
‘What’s the use? She has won!’
Sendatsu dragged his friend to his feet, using all his strength.
Gaibun cuffed tears from his face with his sleeve. ‘Do you not have a heart?’
Sendatsu dragged him across to his horse. ‘Not today.’ He grabbed hold of Gaibun’s stirrup and used it to run them back to where the other two horses were cropping the grass beside the limp figures of Asami and Rhiannon.
He glanced back across to the elven camp, which was a flurry of activity. No riders had appeared yet but they could not be far away — and they had little lead and would have to ride double.
‘Take Asami,’ he said, lifting her up and depositing her in Gaibun’s lap. ‘You’re responsible for her and your child now. Keep your mind on them, not on your father.’