by Duncan Lay
Rhiannon peered into the distance towards Cridianton.
‘How many oak trees have you found?’ she asked the castellan.
‘Two. But one of them is small, and stunted. Is that good enough for you?’ he replied.
She shook her head. It was strange, speaking to him. He was charged with both looking after her and also trying to kill her, should word come back that something had happened to Prince Wilfrid. Not that he would be able to kill her. But it was still strange.
They had ridden ahead of the army to find the place where they would stop and fight the elves. Faster riders had been sent back to the capital, to bring out food, supplies and more men.
The thousand men who had been guarding the city were now setting up a huge camp, digging endless latrine trenches and firepits, as well as clearing away the handful of families that were farming the area. Those were complaining as they went, as most of their livestock was being slaughtered and set over the fires, to go with the wagon-loads of supplies that were being brought from the city. The army had marched long and hard but lots of hot food would see them revive straight away, the castellan predicted.
‘So you will bring the Velsh through the tree over there?’ he asked Rhiannon.
‘That’s right.’
He turned to one of the runners who followed him around everywhere.
‘I want five companies ready to form up over there on my order, to welcome the Velsh,’ he instructed.
‘Should they load crossbows?’ the runner asked.
Rhiannon glared at him and the castellan shook his head. ‘They will fight with us. We are just here to make sure they don’t get any other ideas in the meantime.’
Rhiannon had seen the men getting ready for the arrival of the Velsh and it had already set her teeth on edge. This was the last straw.
‘You realise they are coming to save you?’ she asked sharply. ‘Without their magic, you don’t stand a chance.’
‘I don’t think that and neither do any of the men marching down that road towards us. We know that we can win this by ourselves. The king is just being cautious.’
‘Were you there, when the pride of Forland was trampled in the mud by a few Velsh and a handful of Elfaran warriors outside Dokuzen? You do know that more than ten thousand are marching down here, every one of them having trained since they were a child with the bow and the sword?’
‘Makes no difference.’
‘You need to open your mind if you are to win,’ Rhiannon insisted. ‘And you will need the Velsh.’
‘I just follow orders,’ the castellan said. ‘My king told me to make sure the Velsh did nothing more than set up camp and get ready to fight the elves. If they do that, we will give them hot food …’
Rhiannon ignored him. She looked over the flat ground and tried to imagine it filled with warriors. The dust being raised by the Forlish army as it marched back here was visible in the distance, while, beyond that, she could see thin columns of smoke as the elves burned out everything as they passed. It was flat, as far as the eye could see, with only a few farms to break it up. This was sheep country and the fields had been filled with the woolly animals. Those were either now penned in roughly or already revolving over spits. There was little for a Magic-weaver to use. She hoped it would be enough.
‘I’m ready to start. Make sure there is plenty of food for me,’ she told the castellan.
He signalled and plates were carried over, while companies of men began to trot into position, forming up in an open-sided square.
Rhiannon shook her head. It was times like these that she felt more Velsh than Forlish.
‘High One, we are coming across larger numbers of human refugees, as well as what looks like injured soldiers,’ Oroku reported. ‘What should we do with them?’
Sumiko yawned. ‘Kill the old, the weak and the very young. Those who could work as slaves should be roped together and brought along. We shall find a use for them.’
‘But we know the Forlish army is heading for its capital city. Once we take that, we shall have more slaves than we know what to do with,’ Oroku pointed out.
‘If you know so much, why did you bother asking me at all?’ Sumiko asked irritably.
‘Some of the clans are questioning the orders to kill the females and especially the children,’ Oroku admitted.
‘Simple. Just tell them the boys will grow up into soldiers and the girls will grow up to bear more soldiers, just like the ones who burned the Council Chamber and killed the Elder Elf.’
‘They do not believe it is honourable,’ Oroku whispered, head down.
Sumiko straightened in the saddle. ‘Don’t they? Well, I had better come and see what is going on.’
In a way, she was glad of the distraction. Days of riding in pursuit of the Forlish army was beginning to pall. At first she had been excited by having complete control of the elven people and the way they now bowed not just to her but to all the Magic-weavers. If only her father had been alive to see his dream realised; she knew he would be proud of what she had done. But while she knew the Forlish could not run forever, the lack of anything happening each day had grown boring. The last few moons had been like walking a tightrope — danger had been on all sides and the thrill of that had fired her veins. Organising a pursuit down a road was nothing.
The clans were advancing in a broad front, those on foot using the road, those on horseback riding to either side. Once they came close to the human army, she would order them to leave the horses at the rear. Not only did they not have the experience of fighting on horseback, it would make using their long bows impossible. As she rode past the walking warriors, they bowed, a constant ripple of respect that she never tired of receiving.
But it was a different story at the front. There, about a hundred humans sat in a rough circle, looking terrified — as they should be — or defiant, which she hated to see. Around them were several hundred elven warriors, all with swords drawn.
‘What is the problem?’ Sumiko asked as she rode close to the humans, staring down disdainfully at them from the height of her horse.
A clan leader stepped forwards. She could not remember his name and did not care much. ‘High One, there are many children here. We do not feel comfortable with killing them.’
She looked for the Magic-weaver who would be accompanying the clan leader. He stepped out a moment later, a young man whose name escaped her for a few moments.
‘Goshin,’ she said, clicking her fingers. He had been guarding the gate of her compound the night Asami had betrayed her and led warriors in. ‘Did you not tell him my orders?’
‘Yes, High One.’ Goshin bowed.
Sumiko inspected the closest humans. The ones at the front, a dozen of them, looked like warriors, even if they were unarmed and seemed unable to stand.
‘Would you kill them, as ordered?’ she asked, pointing at them.
One of the humans levered himself to his feet, struggling to stand when he could not put any weight on his left foot.
‘You can kill us if you wish, but let the children go free!’ he shouted in his strange accent.
Sumiko looked around and gestured at him. Next moment a tree branch flew across the road like a spear and punched him from his feet, killing him instantly.
The women and children began to cry and plead for mercy.
‘Did the humans show any mercy when they burned down the Council Chamber? Did they show mercy when they marched into our lands, cut the heads off brave elves and stuck them on spears? Did they promise any when they marched up to the gates of the city, threatening to rape your wives and slaughter your children if you did not do what they asked?’ Sumiko roared.
Nobody answered her from the elven side, although several of the humans tried to call out, begged for their children’s lives.
‘Kill them all,’ Sumiko ordered the clan leader. ‘Or you will join them. It is all the same to me. Or do you forget that your oath to the Elder Elf was on your life?’
&
nbsp; ‘No, High One.’ The clan leader bowed.
‘This is wrong. Elder Elf or not, it is not honourable to kill young ones!’ a warrior shouted, striding across to stand between Sumiko and the humans.
‘Have you forgotten what they did to us?’
The warrior shook his head. ‘We are not like them. We are better than they are. Let us show that.’
Sumiko gestured and another tree branch smashed into the warrior, spraying his blood across the humans he had tried to defend.
‘Does anyone else want to be released from their oath to me?’ she asked.
As one, the warriors rushed into the circle of humans, swords hacking down.
Sumiko watched for a few moments, then turned her horse.
‘I don’t want to be bothered by this again,’ she said. ‘Remember that.’
Both Goshin and the clan leader bowed low, while Oroku followed her.
‘A masterful display, High One,’ he said.
‘Don’t talk nonsense, Oroku. It was all about keeping control over the people. Not that long ago they did not trust us. If we allow them to think they can disobey any order, they will begin to disobey them all. Until we can be totally sure of their loyalty, we must be ruthless.’
Rhiannon raised her left hand tiredly and a Forlish soldier stepped forwards, holding up a skin of honeyed water to her mouth. She drank deeply, trying not to let the pleasure of the taste and feeling of the thick liquid slipping down her dry throat break her concentration. She dropped her hand and he stepped back, holding out still-warm chunks of roasted mutton. She chewed on one and nodded her thanks, keeping the oaken gateway open. Dragons hurried through, interspersed with the human Magic-weavers. All were unarmoured, so the only way to tell them apart was if they carried a sword or crossbow with them. She knew Asami was at the other end of the gateway, with Cedrik standing by to help. She had found thoughts of her father kept her going at these times. When her body cried out for a rest, for mercy from what she was putting it through, she was able to push on. What he had put her through had been so terrible that mere exhaustion seemed like nothing in comparison.
Then Asami stepped through and pulled the staff out of the tree, embracing Rhiannon as she did so.
‘You are getting stronger by the day. You are better than me now,’ Asami said tiredly, drinking deeply from the same skin of honeyed water.
‘That’s only because you can’t keep any food down,’ Rhiannon dismissed.
Asami shook her head slowly. ‘Not true. The only one who could match you would be Sumiko — and maybe not even her.’
‘I still need you when I face her.’
‘I will be there. As long as I’m not throwing up!’ Asami smiled weakly.
Rhiannon grinned, then took back the honeyed water. ‘So, have you made a decision yet?’ she asked.
Asami sighed. ‘Between trying to keep food down and exhausting myself with magic, I have not had time to think.’
Rhiannon nudged her. ‘Come on. This is me you’re talking to. You are thinking about it all the time.’
Asami laughed aloud. ‘I had forgotten how forward you are! And how big your ears and feet are!’
‘That’s only because you are so small. The stars above know what you will look like when your stomach swells. Probably like a ball with pointy ears!’
Asami reached across and hugged Rhiannon. ‘I have missed you,’ she said.
‘What, couldn’t find anyone else to insult you?’ Rhiannon squeezed her friend back. ‘Tell me about Sendatsu and Gaibun. Which one will you choose?’
‘If I knew, do you think I would be throwing up all the time?’ Asami said wryly.
‘If you were not carrying Gaibun’s child, would it be so hard?’
‘No,’ Asami admitted.
‘Then pretend the child is not there.’
‘Easier said than done. And no matter what, it will be a huge part of our lives.’
‘Well, was it worth it?’
‘What?’ Asami asked.
‘You know! You were the one who told me you’d never been with a man before!’
‘Rhiannon!’ Asami jabbed her friend in the ribs. ‘You are as bad as always! I can’t believe some of the things you say!’
‘Well, was it worth waiting for?’
Asami shrugged. ‘Yes and no.’
Rhiannon nodded. ‘It is not the same, when it is not the one you love. Something is missing — everything happening is on the surface.’
Even as she spoke she regretted it, fearing Asami would bristle at the reference to Sendatsu.
Then Asami shrugged. ‘True enough,’ she said.
Rhiannon felt the last ice between them thaw and slip away. ‘Then you have to choose Sendatsu.’
‘That’s what my heart wants. But my head says I cannot send Gaibun away. It is all too complicated,’ Asami confessed.
‘Well, maybe this coming battle will solve the problem for you,’ Rhiannon suggested.
‘How do you mean?’
‘If only one of them lives, it will make your choice much easier.’
‘Or we could die.’
‘Exactly! And then you wouldn’t have this problem.’
‘That is so comforting,’ Asami said wryly.
‘I do what I can to help.’ Rhiannon winked. She handed Asami a ripe pear. ‘Eat up, we have work to do.’
‘More? I thought all the Velsh were through?’
‘Yes. But we need to send away any birds that Sumiko sends over to look at us.’
‘She can just order mounted scouts to find the same thing.’
‘True. But this will infuriate her.’
Asami smiled. ‘I’m happy to help there.’
‘Thanks but I can’t take the credit myself. Sendatsu was the one to talk to me about it.’
‘Did he say anything else?’ Asami asked before she could stop herself.
‘Nothing about you. But then he didn’t need to. I saw him when he came to Vales, after you sent him away from Dokuzen. That was enough for me to know what he feels about you.’
Asami said nothing but took a bite of the pear.
‘I knew that would make you feel better,’ Rhiannon said shrewdly, which made them both laugh.
28
I promised to protect a friend. But I also promised to protect you and your mother, and promised my dead father that I would take revenge on Sumiko. It is very easy to make promises. Keeping them is the real trick.
‘What are we going to do with Hild?’ Ruttyn asked.
Caelin shrugged worriedly. Hild had been happy on the march, despite the discomfort the men were all feeling, but the positions were reversed when they made it to the camp. There were food and fires and no sign of the elves as yet, meaning they would not fight until late tomorrow, yet Hild was soon crying. A quick sniff inside the bag told them why and they had to fashion something for her from the bottom of a cloak, cut off raggedly with a sword and made into a crude wrap, then have a complaining Harald drop her soiled clothes into a latrine trench. That problem over, they had to still feed her and keep her quiet. Plates of roasted mutton, some sort of vegetable stew and fresh bread were waiting for them and they devoured the hot food like the starving men they were. But while they ate, she turned her nose up at the meat and picked at the vegetables and bread, and then began howling for her mother, and for milk.
The men around had responded with several rousing songs but they were running out of tunes to bellow, as well as the breath to do it, while Caelin, Harald and Ruttyn were at their wits’ end as to what to do with her.
‘Maybe say we found her wandering into our camp. Give her to an officer and get her taken into the city for safety?’ Harald asked.
‘She wandered past ten thousand men unseen, and ended up with us?’ Caelin asked.
‘Well, when you say it like that, of course it sounds stupid,’ Harald grumbled.
‘I don’t think we can find her mother any time soon,’ Ruttyn sighed.
‘Mayb
e you could pretend to be one. Stick a bit of blanket on your head. You’re always going on about how good your chest looks,’ Harald suggested.
‘My chest is hard like a rock. I think she’d notice the difference,’ Ruttyn told him loftily.
‘Not to mention notice the smell.’ Harald nudged him.
‘This is not helping!’ Caelin shouted, as he jiggled a crying Hild up and down in a vain attempt to quieten her down.
‘Sarge. There’s a whole flock of sheep penned up over there. At least one of them would have milk,’ Ruttyn suggested.
‘You’re sure?’
‘We’ve been eating lamb all night. Stand to reason.’ Ruttyn shrugged.
‘One problem. There’s guards all around. And anyone caught wandering off is going to find themselves with an appointment for a whipping tomorrow,’ Harald said.
Caelin looked at the way the guards were chatting to each other and taking it easy. He reached out and handed a wailing Hild to Harald.
‘Give me her empty milk bladder and I’ll be back soon,’ he said.
‘Sarge — let me do it,’ Ruttyn pleaded.
‘Thanks — but you two really are terrible scouts. I’m the only one who can do this.’
He stripped off his armour, taking only the empty milk bladder.
‘Hurry, sarge,’ Ruttyn said, trying to make amusing faces at Hild and making her cry harder.
The rest of the company would have echoed Ruttyn’s words but they were too busy singing ‘The Merchant’s Daughter’ for the sixth time.
Caelin flitted from campfire to campfire, feeling light as a feather without the weight of his armour for the first time in days. Most of the men were focused on food, with some already sleeping. Any who noticed him merely nodded at the stripe on his sleeve, which said he had a right to be looking at other fires. He was deliberately casual until he got close to the crude animal pen. No doubt these were the best of the bunch, the ones the farmers had begged to keep and punishment would be severe for being caught in there. Not to mention the questions as to why he was milking one into an infant’s food bladder. He passed one of the deserted firepits and scooped up a handful of ashes, which he used to darken his face and hands. His tunic and leggings were already dark, made more so by days on the road.