by Duncan Lay
‘No, that was us.’ Harald chuckled.
Caelin could feel the tiredness among the men around him. They had marched hard, fought hard and then run — and now they were being asked to march harder and fight harder that night, with no prospect of victory. He sensed that some would simply give up and sit there on the side of the road waiting for death, or maybe run and hide. But he did not know what to say to keep them going.
‘Sergeant!’
He looked up to see the Magic-weaver called Rhiannon riding beside him, holding on to the reins with one hand — and Hild with the other.
‘She spotted you and nearly jumped off the horse to see you! Would you like to carry her for a while?’
Caelin broke ranks and walked across to them, heedless of the others. Behind him, men stopped and watched, the story of how Caelin had rescued the girl from the march south and fooled all the officers being whispered around — and growing with the telling, as well.
‘Sag!’ Hild cried in delight.
‘Wouldn’t you rather ride?’
In answer, Hild wriggled free and Caelin had to step forwards to catch her as she jumped.
‘Does she have any milk left?’ Caelin asked.
A smiling Magic-weaver behind Rhiannon tossed down the bladder, which still felt half full.
‘Smelly!’ Hild said, wrapping her arm around his neck.
‘There’s always the horse,’ he offered.
‘No,’ she told him.
The men clustered around him as he walked back through them and out to the front.
‘Sing!’ Hild said.
‘She’s going to know some strange words when she goes back to her mother,’ Harald said.
Men laughed at that, then someone started up a marching song and they began to walk again. But it was a completely different feeling now, and Caelin felt sure none would drop out — and all would fight.
‘A clever move,’ Gaibun said as Rhiannon rejoined him.
‘They needed something,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I’ll take her back later, if we need to run.’
‘We won’t run. Sendatsu said we have to stop the pursuit, give the Forlish a little victory, so they forget about the defeat. Well, I might not be the great leader Sendatsu is, nor understand how small the human memory is but I know how to use the ground. Ride ahead with me and we’ll see what we can do.’
As promised, a wood stretched across the road, which was forced to go through the trees by a boggy stream, crossed by a crude log bridge. Beside them, Forlish soldiers hurried past, crossing the bridge or splashing through the stream.
‘We have to stop the elves. Those soldiers won’t even fight if they get here,’ Gaibun said critically.
Rhiannon nudged her horse towards the lower ground. Unlike the cultivated farmland around, it was wild and full of weeds. The stream was neither wide nor looked particularly deep. It would not give their pursuers more than a momentary pause.
‘This will make a better wall than anything of stone,’ she mused.
‘What?’
‘Wait and watch.’
She let the mass of Forlish splash across to safety, then reached into the magic, bringing the water bubbling out from underneath, turning the marshy land into a true bog.
Gaibun nodded approvingly. ‘A few crossbowmen here and they’ll never get across. As long as the Forlish get here in time, that is!’
35
Many things in life will knock you down. Expect it. But get up again afterwards. It doesn’t matter how many times you are knocked down. It matters very much how many times you get up again.
Mogosai had refused to take part in the butchery after the battle. The humans had fought bravely and to slay unarmed warriors was dishonourable. He noticed many others felt the same, for it was only really those in clan Kaneoki who rushed to kill the wounded. Even many of the esemono, the so-called lowest of the low, held back their swords from such an evil duty.
But while he was disgusted at the killing, he could not say anything — not unless he wanted to join the growing pile of corpses. He rested instead, cleaning his sword and trying to wipe the worst of the blood off his armour. The stench of the battlefield, the blood, spilled intestines and opened bowels, was sickening, and he longed to be away from there. He moved across to where a familiar priest, Father Hiroka, was healing some of the many wounded.
‘Do you need help, Father?’ he asked.
The priest looked up at him with haunted eyes, blood spattered across his face and staining his hands and forearms.
‘You can stop this madness,’ the priest said bitterly.
‘It is over. The humans are broken,’ Mogosai said, thinking the priest must be losing his mind.
‘No, I mean what Sumiko is leading us too. Killing women and children, killing wounded men — it is beyond dishonourable.’
‘I agree. But perhaps you should not say that too loud. There may be Magic-weavers around.’
‘They cannot hide the truth forever. Did you not see the humans use magic?’
Mogosai stopped looking around and nodded. ‘I did.’
‘And we learned at the battle of Dokuzen that Aroaril will heal them, also. They are just like us. What we are doing is wrong.’
‘You are not the only one who thinks that,’ Mogosai said with feeling. ‘Will the church do anything?’
Hiroka wiped his face with his arm, smearing blood across his forehead. ‘Not while Sumiko rules, I fear. But I shall keep speaking of it, all the same.’
Mogosai wanted to say more but esemono were dragging screaming warriors over to them and he left Hiroka to his grim duty. He walked slowly back to his clan, thinking hard. He spotted his older brother, Yamamoto, appointed clan leader by Sumiko after their father had been killed, and hurried across to him.
‘There is something very wrong about what we are doing. Let us get away from this place,’ he said.
‘I am glad you said that. The Elder Elf has ordered our clan, and others, to mount up and pursue the humans, chase them down and kill any we find before dark.’
‘What? But they are beaten! They will not fight again,’ Mogosai argued.
‘You can tell the Elder Elf that. I will obey orders. If you want to keep your head, I suggest you do the same. There are thousands of humans who escaped. We shall punish them for what they did to our father, so they bow down before us forever more.’
‘But did they really do it? How could one man kill Lord Jaken, our father, Lord Retsu and all the others? It makes no sense!’
‘You think too much,’ Yamamoto said. ‘You always have. You just need to obey. Lady Sumiko tells her Magic-weavers, who tell me, then I tell you. Break that chain and you will be the one losing a head. I have buried a sister and now a father. I will not bury any more of my family.’
Mogosai walked away, swearing, but knew his brother was right about one thing. With this victory, Sumiko was all-powerful. It would not do to cross her now. But this mindless following of orders was dangerous. The humans were not stupid. At this rate, they could ride into a trap.
Wulf finally called a halt for the night at a farming village, some five miles down the road. It was fewer than a hundred homes, all of them crude wooden huts with low roofs and stinking dung piles. It looked like nothing much but his men could go no further. He just had to hope Caelin and the Velsh had held off the elven pursuit.
The villagers had left for the imagined safety of Cridianton as soon as the first soldiers arrived, and each home was quickly filled with tired, bloodstained men.
Wulf made a rough wall across the road, a mixture of overturned carts and beast sheds ripped down and piled up. He knew the elves would simply ride around it if they got this far, but it was better than nothing. The animals whose homes were ripped down were roasting over a score of fires but even the smell of the cooking meat could not distract Wulf from watching both the road and the sun sinking below the horizon. Every moment the sun got lower and the road stayed empty, he felt himself r
elax — but then a fresh fear started. Where were Caelin and the Velsh Magic-weavers? What would they do without them tomorrow? He thought again of the men he had left to die in the elven forest, to encourage the pursuit there. It still burned — and now he had done it again.
By the time the road had vanished in darkness he could stand it no more. He had to find out what had happened, even if it meant his life. He turned to call for his horse.
‘Sir! What’s that?’ one of his men hissed.
The company watching the road all froze and listened. Wulf could feel the tension — then he roared with laughter.
‘What is it, sir?’ someone asked.
‘It’s “The Sergeant and the Merchant’s Daughter”, if I’m not mistaken.’ Wulf chuckled. ‘Give them the chorus to guide them in!’
In a few moments all could hear the booming roar as Caelin’s company sang and men forgot their tiredness and wounds to rush out to see the company walk in, dozens of elven helmets on the point of their swords, which they punched into the air as they sang.
Wulf pushed his way past the barrier to greet Caelin.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘The Velsh turned the stream into a bog. The elves tried to charge through it and got nowhere, so we picked them off easy as pie. They tried again and the Velsh made the bridge explode under them, then the trees come to life. All we had to do was shoot them down. It was like being back on the practice field, aiming at straw targets.’ Caelin grinned. ‘Once they pulled back, we grabbed all the elven helmets we could find to show the men what we have done.’
‘You did well. Bloody well,’ Wulf told him. ‘Congratulations, Captain Caelin.’
‘Captain?’ Caelin gasped, trying to keep hold of Hild, who was doing her best to sing along to a tune about a soldier and a farmer’s daughter. She only seemed to know the worst words.
‘You have earned it. Keep going like this and you’ll be running the army before long!’
‘Three cheers for Captain Caelin!’ Harald roared, and the company bellowed its approval.
‘And Sergeants Harald and Ruttyn!’ Caelin added, provoking more roars.
‘The wife’s mother might even crack a smile at that. If it doesn’t crack her face,’ Harald said.
‘Three cheers for our brave boys, who showed the elves how Forlishmen can really fight!’ Wulf ignored him and bellowed at the mass of men watching them. The cheers really began to ring out as the tale spread around campfires.
‘Go on, get some food into your company, and some rest as well,’ Wulf told Caelin.
‘Hey, sarge, I mean captain — can I choose who goes on latrine duty?’ Harald asked eagerly.
Wulf watched them go, grinning, seeing how they were changing the mood of the men as they went.
‘Not mentioning how magic saved the day?’ Rhiannon asked softly, leaning down from horseback.
‘Let’s keep it simple, for simple men,’ Wulf suggested with a wink. ‘Get down and get some food, get some rest. Then we’ll see if your friends can return with some more men in the morning.’
‘There will be no rest for us,’ Rhiannon said, turning to her Magic-weavers. ‘We need to find some oak trees and then start bringing the Velsh in.’
There was a crowd of people outside Cridianton trying to get inside the thick walls; farmers, merchants, beggars and families, all seeking safety.
‘Do they realise I only left a company of men to watch the gates and the castle?’ Edmund remarked. ‘They would stop the elves for perhaps a few heartbeats.’
‘It is in everyone’s nature to find the safe thing to do, the easy way forwards,’ Sendatsu said, looking at Asami. ‘But I learned that is not always the best idea.’
‘Took you long enough. And I don’t think I meant us to end up like this,’ Asami replied.
The dozen remaining marshals forced a path through the crowd, to where those at the front were arguing with the gate guards, who were trying to close the door.
‘The gates always shut at sunset. Come back at dawn!’ a burly sergeant shouted at the protesters.
‘Hold the gates for Captain Edmund!’ one of the marshals roared and the arguments stopped to watch the small, grimy party ride past — then the whispering started in their wake at the sight of officers, a couple of elves, a pair of Velshmen and some of the king’s marshals.
‘Leave the gates open, sergeant. This is going to be an unusual night,’ Edmund ordered. ‘You can make yourself useful by finding me your officer, as well as every town crier in Cridianton. While you are at it, I’ll need the army storehouses opened as well.’
‘But why? We always close the gates, sir,’ the sergeant spluttered.
Edmund leaned down in his saddle and grabbed the man’s tunic, lifting him up slightly.
‘Leave the gates. Do what I said or it will only be your head that guards these gates from now on.’
The sergeant nodded convulsively and Edmund let him go, watched him gather his men and sprint away. With the huge gates left open, the crowd outside milled around for a while then began to walk in, cautiously at first, before beginning to shove and push their way inside.
Edmund led the little party of riders away from the gate to a small, empty market square that was usually packed solid with people and animals.
‘What is your plan for tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘I need to have some hope that this is more than just desperation that will only massacre thousands of men.’
Sendatsu leaned on his saddle, looking up at the tall buildings, which seemed to lean in on each other, making them loom over those below and shutting out much of the darkening sky. He could see a fat full moon rising and wondered if that was some sort of omen.
‘Today they were able to match their best warriors with yours. But behind the armoured men come the esemono, the poorer elves who have a sword and bow but little else. We gave Sumiko a huge target and she kept hitting it until we broke. We need to change things completely. I want your men to dress as slaves, and dress the slaves as Forlish.’
‘What? Our armour and shields are our biggest advantage! We cannot give them up!’ Edmund cried.
‘I am not saying that. We dress the slaves in your tunics, have your men wear rags over their armour. Sumiko will see what she expects to see. She will send her best warriors at what she thinks are your men but will be the Velsh and slaves, then send the esemono at you.’
‘And what if she stands away and looses arrows at us? We won’t have enough shields to go around.’
‘They won’t have enough arrows for that; they used most of them up today. Besides, if they try it, we pretend to run and then turn and face them once they charge.’
‘You are gambling everything on Sumiko doing what you expect,’ Edmund accused. ‘If she tries something else, we are done for.’
Sendatsu sighed. ‘We are done for anyway, if we do nothing.’
‘She will be overconfident tomorrow. She is arrogant enough as it is, thinking her personal power gives her the strength to do whatever she will,’ Asami said. ‘It will be her downfall.’
‘You know Ward would never agree to this.’
‘Of course. But he is dead, so look where that got him. You are different.’
Edmund snorted. ‘I won’t be any kind of a ruler if Mildrith gets her way.’
‘Save Cridianton and the people will love you. Trust me, I have done this a few times now, replacing leaders with others,’ Sendatsu said, with a wink at Asami.
‘Yes, and that has worked out so well so far!’
‘Practice makes perfect.’ He grinned.
‘How can you make light of something so serious?’ Edmund demanded.
‘How does imagining defeat help us? The people who are coming now need to see some confidence.’
‘And you really think they will fight for me?’
‘No, but they will fight for Huw. He’s given some good performances but today will need to be his greatest.’
‘Good to know there is n
othing riding on this then,’ Huw muttered.
Sendatsu patted him on the shoulder. ‘This is what you were born to do.’
‘Well, I hope you are ready, for here they come,’ Asami said, pointing at a procession hurrying towards them, led by the big sergeant.
‘I think the first part is down to me,’ Edmund said, guiding his horse forwards a little.
‘Captain Edmund! What can we do for you, sir?’ the young guard officer asked. Sendatsu doubted he was even shaving yet. He had long blond hair and his armour seemed to hang awkwardly on his thin frame.
‘What is your name?’ Edmund asked brusquely.
‘Lieutenant Uthelred, sir.’
‘Well, Uthelred, the king is dead and the army has been forced to retreat. I am in command and I am not lying when I say the future of Forland rests on your shoulders.’
‘On me?’ Uthelred looked as though he were about to faint.
‘I need every town crier you can find. Wake them, drag them out of their bed if need be. But bring them here.’
Uthelred turned and pointed to a group of his men and they hurried off.
‘Next, you need to find every cart you can lay your hands on, take it down to the armouries and load it up with every sword, shield, helm and tunic you can find, then send it north up the main road, where it will meet our army, falling back on Cridianton.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Uthelred grabbed his sergeant and pushed him, sending almost all the rest of his men running to follow the orders.
‘I need you and some of your men to come back here, where we are going to be talking to the slaves of the city. We need torches in this square, as many as you can get. And lastly we need some food.’
‘You can count on me, sir!’ Uthelred saluted with such force he actually quivered, then rushed away.
‘Think he can handle all that?’ Sendatsu asked.
Edmund sighed. ‘I hope so. We don’t have much time, if we are going to get the slaves to not only help us but meet up with the rest of the army and send them far enough north to make a difference.’