by Duncan Lay
‘Wait,’ Sendatsu said.
‘Brothers! Where are you going?’ one of the slaves, a big man with scars on his chest and arms, boomed out.
‘Home, idiot!’ someone called back, which received a few grim chuckles.
‘With nothing in your hands and little on your back. I want to take magic back,’ the big man announced. ‘And how will you walk all the way home on an empty belly? Besides, how am I going to find my family in a country being invaded? We have all seen what that is like. I’ll never fight for the Forlish but I’ll fight for that Velshman, then come back here and see my family.’
He turned left and began to stride towards the fires.
‘One man,’ Edmund said flatly.
‘Wait,’ Sendatsu said.
‘He’s right!’ another slave shouted, stepping out of the crowd to follow the big man.
‘We were men once. We can be so again. I will walk home proudly, not slinking away in the night!’ a third roared. ‘And I know I will return to see my family here!’
‘I was a proud man. I never ran from a fight or failed to help a friend. The Velsh are friends of mine, I will help them,’ a fourth man announced.
They followed the big man. There was a moment’s hesitation, then a rush of men turned, more and more of them heading towards the fires. Some of those who had gone right and begun the long walk south swung back and followed.
‘We owe that first man a debt,’ Huw breathed.
‘Yes, we do,’ Sendatsu said softly, as he and the other three who had followed him lined up at the firepits, where Uthelred’s men began handing them thick slices of mutton.
‘Wait, don’t I recognise that face?’ Asami muttered.
‘Ssh!’ Sendatsu said and Huw looked harder at the big slave. He did look familiar and Huw wondered if he had picked the man out in the crowd. Then the man turned and Huw gasped. It was the sergeant they had seen on the gates of Cridianton when they first arrived. Yet here he was, dressed as a slave.
‘Don’t give it away,’ Sendatsu said softly and Huw looked at him ruefully.
‘You had all of this planned,’ he said.
‘Just wanted to help things along,’ Sendatsu said with a wink.
‘Well, it looks like we might have our army of slaves,’ Edmund said, gazing out over the sea of heads. ‘You might need to find some more sheep!’
‘And you had better get someone working on finding these men’s families,’ Asami said.
‘If they stand with us, then every man I have will be sent out searching,’ Edmund said fervently.
‘Good. Or I’ll hunt you down myself,’ Huw said. And there was no humour in his voice.
Mogosai ordered the elves from the five clans sent to pursue the humans to stay where they were for the night. The ones who were not lying dead in a bog, that was. He had taken control and ordered the others back when their attack had turned to disaster. His older brother, among many others, had died there, as had the other four clan leaders. The few Magic-weavers left started fires and Mogosai posted guards and made sure everyone had something to eat, even if it was not much. He walked around the little camp, feeling tired deep in his bones. He wanted to wash off the blood, as well as the memories of the day.
The other clans were now being led, like his own Chenjaku, by younger sons and distant relatives of the original leaders. Even though he was no older than they were, by virtue of his taking command at the bridge, they looked to him for advice.
‘How did the gaijin create so much magic?’ one asked.
‘A very good question,’ Mogosai said. ‘Anyone else think it strange they beat us with magic?’
‘That is dangerous talk,’ someone muttered.
‘But we are all thinking it,’ Mogosai said.
‘Maybe so. But to say it is to invite death from Sumiko.’
They looked over to the fire where the Magic-weavers sent out with them were recovering. They had tried to fight the magic being used at the bridge and been beaten — all had collapsed and had to be dragged away. They were in no condition to report this conversation to Sumiko, let alone do any more magic now. But who knew what they would be like in the morning?
‘Will Sumiko punish us for not killing the gaijin?’ one wondered.
‘I shall take full responsibility,’ Mogasai said, knowing it was something his father would have done. The relief on the other faces told him he had done the right thing. If only he could think of a way to remove Sumiko’s hold on the people.
36
There is a key to every man, something that drives them. It is different for everyone. If you can discover that key, then you can make them do almost anything.
Sendatsu rubbed tired eyes. He had had precious little sleep over the last couple of days, going back to the night before the first battle. It was all beginning to blur — and now he was going to have to fight another battle today. The final battle.
He blinked grit out of his eyes. It had been the work of a night, a day and another night to get ready to face Sumiko. Although he had been living it, it almost seemed like a dream. After winning over the slaves, the first thing had been to find some leaders among them. That had not been an easy task, for Ward had not been merciful to the leaders of the southern armies. Actually, the first task had been to smuggle the Forlish sergeant and his three soldiers out of the ranks of the slaves and get them back into uniform — and north as fast as possible.
Among the slaves they had found a few handfuls of former sergeants and officers, men who the others looked up to and would obey, if orders were given. These men would take up position at the front — but the brunt of the fighting would be done by the Velsh.
Then the former slaves had been loaded into yet more carts and sent north, before they changed their minds.
This time they could not choose their site for the battle with care. They just had to be able to meet up with the Forlish and Velsh. Just getting the two parts together would be tricky, even using magic to talk to Rhiannon and, through her, to Wulf.
The three parts of the human army, the slaves, the Velsh and the Forlish had come together a little after midday, when the real work began. Former slaves had to be given swords and tunics as soon as they arrived. Their leaders had to make sure the men who got the shields were ready and able to stand in a front line and face an elven attack. The best of those were also given armour and helms. There were enough swords and tunics but nothing like enough shields or helms or armour.
That went on and on, with plenty of arguments and shoving and pushing, because many men wanted more protection than they could get. Then the former slaves had to be put through their paces. None had handled a sword recently, some not for years. Their building work had kept them strong but their last memories of battle were of defeat and Sendatsu worried that would return to haunt them.
Many were looking less than enthusiastic, as well. Putting on Forlish tunics — the hated symbol of their conqueror — had wiped away any smiles, while the memory of Huw’s speech and the taste of the roasted mutton was long gone.
He spread the Velsh among them, had them boast of how they had defeated the Forlish and driven them out of Vales, hoping that would have some effect. His plan called for them to take one volley of arrows then pretend to break, running back a hundred paces to reform. But he suspected they would simply keep running.
He would normally place the ones who looked happiest to have a sword back in their hands at the front, but this time he decided to put them at the back, to both protect them from arrows and hope they would stiffen the line. Some of them were quite skilled and it was obvious that most of the southern countries had a small warrior elite that they filled out with whoever could be found in the cities and farms. Against the Forlish, that had proved to be a recipe for disaster; against the elves, it might work. There were men from every southern country there: Nevlanders, Breconians, Landish and Balians; with the Forlish and Velsh, this was truly an allied army. He found leaders for them all, although
all he really needed them to do was follow the orders he sent them. The different leaders were brought together, all looking suspiciously at each other — and glaring daggers at Edmund and Wulf. It seemed none of the southern countries were allies, having long regarded each other with suspicion and often fighting among themselves. Even in the face of the Forlish invasion they had not banded together and, in fact, had cheered the Forlish on in their conquests. Until the Forlish arrived in their country, of course. Hatred for the Forlish was the one thing they had in common.
Then there was the Forlish. Their arrogance had suffered with their defeat and the loss of their king but they still sneered at their allies and complained at having to hand their tunics over to their former slaves and cover their armour in old cloaks and tunics.
Even the Velsh had to be watched, for they all remembered what the Forlish had done to their villages. The various parts of his army were far from being allied.
Sendatsu worked furiously nonetheless, one eye constantly over his shoulder in case the elves arrived. In a strange way, he was hoping for it, thinking that might bring the disparate parts together. But the elves did not appear, all through that long day. Wulf’s riders had scouted down the road but it seemed Sumiko was in no hurry. Whether it was her overconfidence, or the trap they had fallen into, the elven advance was slow and deliberate.
As a second night fell after the death of Ward, Sendatsu did not know whether to be pleased to have this time to work on his army or fearful that many would run in the darkness. He had barely slept, instead going from fire to fire to talk to the men, try anything he could to keep them there. He had finally fallen asleep just before dawn.
His stomach growled and he forced himself to sit up. The elves would come today and this ragtag army would have to fight. Sendatsu knew he had to get them all to agree to obey his orders — and do it this time. The first battle had been lost because the Velsh and Forlish had not worked together. This really was the last chance. He stood and began pacing, wondering how to do it, when Asami found him.
‘Are you sure about this? These southerners look like they will run at the first chance they get. You basically tricked them into doing this and they don’t look happy,’ she said.
‘I’m hoping Sumiko will help us out there,’ he said absently.
Asami laughed. ‘You need to get your mind on what is happening! How is Sumiko going to help us? Are you perhaps thinking of me, or Gaibun?’
Sendatsu smiled. ‘No, I meant Sumiko. Remember what she said to us in that tent before springing the trap with my father on us? She cannot stop herself from gloating. If I challenge her, try to turn the elves against her, she will reply and threaten every man we have here with death, slavery or worse. At the moment they have no quarrel with her but, if we are lucky, she will make one.’
Asami looked at him quizzically. ‘Disguising soldiers as slaves and slaves as soldiers, offering them food and now getting Sumiko to pick a fight with them. Where did you learn to try to weave such a complicated web?’
Sendatsu sighed. ‘I never thought I would be doing anything like this. But ever since that night when I fled Dokuzen, I have been learning: from you; from my children; from Huw and Rhiannon; from my father — even from Sumiko. I don’t have to be like them, but I can put what I have learned to good use. Did you know my father’s study, the one everyone thought was filled with strange and terrible secrets, was full of empty papers and useless maps? My mother told me. He had filled up these shelves with useless, empty pieces of parchment but told everyone they were terrible secrets. So everyone with a secret — and that truly means everyone — thought he knew what they had done and so let him manipulate them. I will never do that but I see now that if you present men with a choice, you can usually predict what they will do.’
‘So what do you predict I will do then?’ Asami whispered. ‘Will I choose you or Gaibun?’
Sendatsu reached out and took her hand. ‘That I cannot predict, because I am too caught up in the choice. I want it to be me with all my heart, with everything I am. I realised too late that I am not complete without you, that my life will always be grey without you there.’
‘I am still torn,’ she said. ‘My heart wants me to choose you but my head fears for what will happen with Gaibun and our child.’
‘You don’t have to make the decision now.’
‘But one or both of you might not be here tomorrow!’
‘Then that will make your choice much easier.’
‘That is the coward’s way,’ Asami said fiercely. ‘I have never let fear rule my life. Yet I worry that whoever I choose will not survive today.’
‘None of us might. You are right about the southerners — they are afraid and reluctant to fight. And even with them, Sumiko might be too much for us. Even the worst of the esemono is the equal of the best of these human warriors.’
Asami held up her hand. ‘I don’t want to listen to that. This is my decision.’
She took a deep breath and Sendatsu felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and his heart pound as though he had run all the way from Cridianton.
‘I will not say my choice now. But I tell you this. Survive the battle and we shall spend the night together.’
‘So is that me?’ he asked cautiously.
‘I don’t want you to think about dying today, I want you to think about surviving and what awaits us tonight, after the battle.’
Sendatsu leaned in quickly and kissed her. ‘You do realise that is all I can think about now?’ he said throatily.
Asami kissed him back, gently. ‘If all looks lost today, think of what awaits you.’
Sendatsu could think of nothing else. He looked into Asami’s smiling eyes and saw she understood that.
‘You know me too well,’ he growled.
‘We have both waited for a long time. Far better for that thought to keep us going today, if we are tempted to give up.’
Sendatsu moved in to kiss her again but she skipped out of the way.
‘Tonight, I said!’ She smiled at him.
Sendatsu turned away, trying to get himself back under control. He could not talk to the southerners feeling like this.
‘Remember. Tonight!’ she called out lightly and hurried away.
Sendatsu swore softly. That would be in the back of his mind all day. He did not know whether she had gone mad or if this was the most inspired idea she’d ever had. Either way, he needed a few moments before going to speak to the southerners.
‘I will choose you,’ Asami said.
Gaibun gaped at her until she felt like reaching out and lifting his jaw up to close his mouth.
‘I thought you would be pleased, not looking as though someone had clubbed you,’ she observed.
That seemed to break Gaibun’s spell. ‘This is the greatest day of my life! The only thing that will be better is when our son is born!’
He reached for her but she held up both hands to warn him off.
‘What? I thought we were going to be together now?’ he protested.
‘Not today, nor tonight,’ she said. ‘And it is on one condition.’
‘What? Anything! Anything you want, I will give you! I have dreamed of this day but never thought it would arrive!’
Asami grabbed his hand as he waved it around. ‘Keep Sendatsu alive today,’ she said.
Gaibun stopped instantly, his smile slowly dying. ‘Why do you ask that?’
‘Why do you think? Sendatsu is so determined to defeat Sumiko, he will risk anything and everything to reach her. I want you to bring him back to me, alive.’
‘But I thought you had chosen me?’ Gaibun said suspiciously.
‘And I have. But that is a condition of me being with you. Sendatsu must live, get a chance to be with his children.’
‘It might be easier for us all if he did not come back. You might have chosen me but he will be reluctant to accept that,’ Gaibun said gently.
‘Let him die and we shall never be together,’
Asami said firmly.
Gaibun held up his hands. ‘I will do whatever I can to keep him alive. I promise on our child. But what about me? What will keep me alive?’
‘The thought that I have chosen you and we shall be husband and wife, a family together, just as you wanted.’
Gaibun grinned. ‘That is enough to make me cut my way through a thousand of Sumiko’s finest warriors!’
‘You need to find Sendatsu. He’s speaking to all the leaders about today,’ she said.
He held out his arms wordlessly and Asami let him embrace her. She turned her head to the side, pressing it against his chest, hearing his heart thumping, and she gritted her teeth to keep herself under control. Her heart told her it was the wrong choice but her head insisted she had done the right thing. Sendatsu had shown he would accept her choice, where Gaibun would not. She hoped the unusual way she had told them would be effective. After all, it was not just Sendatsu and Sumiko who could say the right things, make people do what they wanted.
‘Do you want to explain to me what in Aroaril’s name happened?’ Sumiko screamed.
‘We rode into a trap,’ Mogosai replied simply. He stood straight, his shoulders back. If she was going to have him killed, then he would not beg and plead. He had seen his brother drown in a bog, not even given the chance to die with sword in hand, dying to fulfil idiotic orders that had already killed scores of brave elves.
‘They had Magic-weavers use bogs and trees against us, backed up with Forlish using crossbows. Our own Magic-weavers could not reverse it and collapsed. Daizuke died leading the first charge. We kept trying but when my older brother was killed, leaving me as leader of clan Chenjaku and the last surviving clan leader, I ordered us to stop and fall back.’
He stared her in the eye, braced for the order that would end his life.
‘You are Lord Ichiro’s last son. No doubt you are eager for revenge for his death?’
‘Oh yes,’ Mogosai said softly, wondering if she had anything to do with it.
‘And you killed the Forlish king, did you not?’ she asked.