by Duncan Lay
Not that they were having any more luck in warning the Velsh people that the Forlish were coming. After the incident at Pontypridd they had tried to talk to the people at another village, with a singular lack of success. They could not understand why the Forlish were coming, did not know what to do — and took little notice of a bard and a dancer. Some thought it was just an elaborate jest.
Now they had arrived at a mining village called Caerphilly, and had been drawn to its elven-built inn. This was another chance to persuade the people, Huw told her.
Rhiannon thought this was hilarious. ‘The Velsh won’t believe us — they think we are fools, like the pair we spoke to a day ago. What was that couple’s name? Blodwen and Bedwin! They thought it was all part of an act, and wouldn’t listen.’
‘Yes, but they were both several sheep short of a flock, if you ask me. But leaving aside idiots, I think we need to try again.’
Rhiannon smiled fondly at him. ‘Fine. One more time. But don’t blame me if it goes horribly wrong!’
Sendatsu was tired and irritable when he came across the next human settlement. He had spent a wet and cold night in the woods and dearly wanted a hot bath, as well as some proper food. He had even resorted to eating animal flesh, rather than starve. He felt so dirty that even his teeth itched. And the business with the women of Patcham bothered him, more than fighting and killing their captors. He had no sympathy for murderers and rapists but having their victims run away from him had left him with a strange unease. Why were they so obsessed with magic? And the power they thought he had … Sendatsu could do a few small things with magic but bringing people back to life …! It was obvious they knew nothing about magic.
How was he going to find the evidence, the answers he needed to return home? What if he could never return …?
That was eating at him as he wandered into the settlement of Caerphilly. This was a mining village carved into the side of a hill. A huge open pit showed where the humans dug out iron ore. Sendatsu knew of such mines, to the far north of Dokuzen, but he had never seen one before. One look was more than enough, he decided after a few moments, and walked into the small town.
What gave him a little hope was some of the houses here were obviously elven-built. They stood out from the low, rounded human huts like fires at night. Although, from the number of drunken men staggering in and out of them, it seemed the humans were using them as halls and drinking houses, rather than for their original purpose. He avoided a pair of humans sprawled in the mud and walked into the largest elven building he could see.
Inside was as bad as he had feared, just like the one at Pontypridd. The windows were all gone, while the tiled floors were ripped up in places, or covered in fetid rushes, while the plastered walls were smeared with grime, the delicate designs obscured by dirt or crumbling off the bricks. He looked around, horrified by the way the humans had treated it.
‘Who are you?’ someone asked, and he turned to see a table of miners staring at him.
‘Sendatsu,’ he said shortly, turning his back on them and walking over to another long wooden table, where a human stood, smearing dirt around on the top with a grubby rag.
‘Are you the owner?’ Sendatsu demanded.
‘What?’ The human glared at him. ‘Who wants to know?’
‘What do you know of this building’s history?’
‘I bought it off my uncle,’ the barman replied, mystified.
‘Where can I find him? Does he know much of elven history?’
‘He’s dead these past eight moons.’ The barman shrugged.
Sendatsu cursed and looked around, wondering if anyone else in here might know something — it looked as though the drinking hall was full.
‘Would anyone here know about the town’s history?’
The barman sniffed. ‘Who knows? But maybe you can ask the performers I’ve got. They’re a dancer and a bard, all the way from the court of King Ward himself!’
Sendatsu stared at him. Was this the same pair from Pontypridd?
‘Do you know them?’ the barman asked.
Sendatsu shrugged and turned to leave, only to see a miner stand and stagger across to join him.
‘Are you going to buy us drinks?’ the miner asked.
‘No,’ Sendatsu said.
‘Who is this? Do you know him?’ the barman asked the miner.
The miner swayed to a halt beside Sendatsu, where he inspected him drunkenly.
‘Well, shag me like a sheep if it’s not an elf!’ he exclaimed.
‘Well, I certainly won’t be doing that,’ Sendatsu told him politely, hoping that was the right response to make the man walk away.
Instead he leaned in closer and Sendatsu was treated to the full blast of his foul breath, as well as a host of other smells. He had some food caught in his tangled black beard, and from the colour of his skin he had obviously only washed lightly after coming out of the mine — if at all — while his clothes had been changed perhaps last year.
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, grabbing Sendatsu’s sleeve.
‘I’m here to find some nice woods that I can make up a poem about,’ Sendatsu said shortly, prising the man’s fingers off his shirt. ‘Now please leave me alone.’
The miner had arms and shoulders hardened by days in the mine but could not stop Sendatsu and gasped at a greater strength than his own.
‘So it’s true what they say about you elves — that you’re magically strong!’ He wrung his hand but did not seem too bothered by it.
‘Absolutely. And we live forever.’ Sendatsu could feel his patience slipping.
‘Show us some magic! Go on!’ the miner encouraged.
‘Magic, we want to see magic!’ the table behind him took up the cry.
‘Come on! Do some magic. You’re not getting out of here until you show us something,’ the miner declared, grabbing hold of Sendatsu’s pouch, where his children’s toys stayed safe.
That was too much.
‘You want to see some magic? How about watching a man fly?’ Sendatsu growled.
‘Aye!’ the miner began, but Sendatsu pounced, grabbing him by the throat and crotch, lifting him up and hurling him onto the table full of his friends. Chairs, miners, drinks and food went in all directions and everyone else jumped to their feet as well.
Into the silence that followed, as Sendatsu glared around the room, a lyre struck a single perfect note and the dancer bounded into the room.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, all the way from the court of King Ward of Forland himself, may I present Rhiannon of Hamtun!’ the bard bellowed.
But nobody looked their way as they danced into the centre of the room; all were focused on Sendatsu and the groaning table of miners behind him.
‘You!’ Huw and Rhiannon exclaimed.
‘Not again!’ Sendatsu glanced around the room nervously.
‘Is this some part of the act?’ the barman asked.
Sendatsu did not hang around for what he was sure would come — instead he turned and raced for the door.
‘Get back to your room — I’m going after him, I’ll bring him back!’ Huw hissed at Rhiannon and then tore after Sendatsu.
The inn full of Velsh miners watched the three of them race off, then looked at each other, dumbfounded. One began to clap doubtfully, then they all clapped, before turning back to their drinks with relief.
‘If that was the best entertainment that King Ward’s court can provide, I’m glad I’ll never go there,’ the miner Sendatsu had hurled through the air groaned as he emerged from the wreckage of his friends.
The barman watched him without sympathy.
‘You just don’t appreciate culture,’ he told him, blowing his nose on his rag, before using it to clean out an empty tankard.
Huw raced out of the hall at Caerphilly not far behind the elf and tried to stay with him, ignoring the wobble in his legs and the burning in his lungs. He was not going to let the elf get away this time.
Nobody
stopped them, although plenty stared — especially at Huw in his bright bard costume of red tunic and green trews. By the time they had reached the outskirts, Huw was panting like a dog and almost reeling from exhaustion. The elf, on the other hand, showed no signs of slowing down. Barely a hundred yards from the last house, a wood began. Huw was staggering by the time he reached it, the elf long gone.
‘Wait! I just want to talk! Please!’ he puffed as loud as he could, then leaned on a tree and sucked in great gulps of air.
When his legs stopped shaking and it felt like he could breathe again without coughing, he straightened and looked around. Nothing. He cursed. He spun around desperately and came face to face with the elf. His sword was in his hand and it was pointed at Huw’s throat.
‘You’ve got some explaining to do,’ the elf said coldly. ‘Talk fast.’
‘What happened here?’ Broyle demanded, stamping around the clearing, staring at the bodies of his men they had found littered through the woods. The ones killed by a sword were obvious enough but several had been killed by something else. At first he thought they were from a crossbow but they looked different, with a smaller entry wound.
‘I knew we should have all stayed together. The women are gone!’ Ricbert grumbled.
‘Well, I think we can safely say they didn’t do this!’ Broyle snarled. ‘Cenred was one of the best swordsmen in our regiment. There must have been dozens of them — enough to kill our boys and then enough to take their own dead away.’
‘You think the Velsh did this?’ Ricbert asked.
‘Well, it wasn’t a bunch of woodland elves!’ Broyle growled.
‘So what do we do, sarge?’
‘Horse tracks lead towards that village we raided. We shall head back there. But slowly. Cautiously. I want them to think they got away with this,’ Broyle said carefully.
‘Why?’
‘So when I do rip them apart, I can enjoy it more,’ Broyle vowed.
Sendatsu had made the shelter of the trees easily and watched the bard stumble to a halt and then lean against one, gasping for air. He was the most unlikely opponent Sendatsu had ever seen but it never hurt to be cautious. He used the bard’s heavy breathing to cover the slight noise of his own approach and to draw his sword. When the bard turned, he was ready.
‘Talk fast,’ he ordered the frightened Velshman. ‘Why are you following me?’
The bard gulped. ‘I need your help to save my people. We’ve come from the court of King Ward in Cridianton — he’s the king of Forland, a country to the south of here that wants to rule the world. He’s sending soldiers north to raid and attack my people and I have to warn them. You can use your magic to save them — what are you doing here …’ he gabbled.
Sendatsu sheathed his sword. There was no danger here. ‘Do you want to slow down a little?’ he suggested.
‘Yes!’ the Velshman breathed out. ‘Only you said to talk fast, so I thought …’
‘Look, how about going back to the beginning?’
‘Yes! Great idea!’ the bard said excitedly. ‘But maybe you should come with me first — I have a couple of rooms back at that inn and we can talk there in more comfort. Besides, Rhiannon wants to meet you, and needs to speak to you as well …’
Sendatsu hesitated. ‘Fine. Lead on,’ he said shortly, to cut off the bard’s flow of words.
‘Sensei Sumiko, what can we do? The thought of Sendatsu out in the human world is eating me up inside. He could be dead already!’ Asami declared.
‘Hush!’ The High Magic-weaver looked around dramatically, which set Asami’s teeth on edge. She knew Sumiko’s powers would have told her if someone had been within hearing distance, while her garden would have seized anyone who dared enter it without her permission. It was particularly vibrant today and Asami wondered what that meant for her.
This had been her first opportunity to come here. The Elven Council had forbidden mention of Sendatsu’s name. Everyone was talking about it, of course — it was the topic of conversation in every part of Dokuzen. But only with trusted friends and family. Clans were quick to point the finger at each other for disloyalty to the Council and the Council Guards were always ready to pounce. Gaibun had also had many angry words about that kiss she and Sendatsu had exchanged in the garden.
‘I know your feelings for him. But to do that in front of others! You shamed me!’ he spat at her.
‘And you taking lovers across half of Dokuzen does not shame me?’ she fired back.
‘At least I am discreet. At least I do not do anything in front of servants and mere soldiers!’
‘No, just in front of enough people that all our friends gossip about it behind my back!’
‘I would not expect a woman to understand honour!’
‘If that is your version of honour, then I am glad it makes no sense!’
They had not spoken since, except for him to forbid her going near Sumiko. But he was out on patrol near the border and she was willing to take the risk — any risk.
‘The Council has ears everywhere. We must be careful …’
‘Aroaril curse being careful! Sendatsu saved us and is now risking his life to help us again. We need to give him all the aid we can,’ Asami argued. Behind her, a vine exploded into life, silently twisting and crushing the rose bush next to it.
‘Agreed,’ Sumiko said quietly. The vine slithered back into the earth, leaving the rose bush to collapse noiselessly to the ground. ‘The best way is to do something here. We both saw the effect one scroll from the tombs of the forefathers had on Jaken and the cursed Council. One scroll! And yet there are dozens still in there. We must go through them, find what is inside.’ Another bush burst into life, rich red berries on its stems tempting a pair of birds who sat on the wall overlooking the garden.
‘But I thought that was what Sendatsu had to do, why he was sent into the human world?’ Asami could feel the magic flowing around her, worried what it meant, but dared not look behind.
One of the birds could not resist the beckoning berries and flew down, looking for a place to land.
‘Yes,’ Sumiko agreed. ‘But we would be foolish not to try this. If we can get the evidence first, overthrow the Council, then there is no need for Sendatsu to be out there and we can bring him home. We have already begun the process, the people are already being prepared …’
Awareness came to Asami then. ‘You were already planning this, even before Sendatsu,’ she breathed.
Sumiko smiled thinly. The bird had now landed on the very top of the bush and was edging lower, looking at the plump, ripe berries with a hungry eye.
‘Of course. We have seen the magic dying within the elves, the barrier protecting Dokuzen decaying. We had to find out why. The history of the Magic-weavers makes for interesting reading but that alone would not be believed. After all, the Council has seen to it that we are despised. Every child is taught we are not to be trusted, and should be watched always. But the words of our forefathers themselves carry even more weight.’
‘But will it be in time? He will not know how to deal with humans …’
‘We have to move carefully. The Magic-weavers have been working towards this for too long to risk revealing ourselves too soon. You have to trust me,’ she said persuasively.
Asami felt a chill. She could not turn back but neither would she walk blindly into Sumiko’s plans.
‘So you seek to use me to achieve your goals, with no guarantee that it will save Sendatsu?’
The vine suddenly surged behind Asami, rearing tall above the slim elf. ‘Yes,’ Sumiko admitted. ‘But you asked me for help. And this is your only chance.’
‘Then tell me what to do,’ Asami said simply.
The vine disappeared back into the ground, leaving the plants to their ordered beauty, while beyond them the bird jumped down a branch and reached for the first berry. Before it could pick one, the vine exploded out of the ground and plucked the bird from the branch, taking it so fast that barely a leaf was di
sturbed, the both of them vanishing below the ground in the blink of an eye.
One solitary feather floated down, landing on the patch of disturbed soil.
‘You are going to break into the tombs of the forefathers and steal every book there.’ Sumiko smiled.
Rhiannon paced nervously up and down. The thought of meeting an elf was so thrilling she had forgotten for the moment what she was doing here and why she had fled Cridianton. Geography had not been one of the things Hector insisted she learn but even she knew Dokuzen, the fabled land of the elves, was to the north-east. If one elf was walking among the humans again, who knew how many might be out there? Perhaps they were even now thinking about rejoining the world!
The idea of dancing for the elves, with the elves, consumed her. She even tried out a few steps, to see how it felt. She was spinning around when a knock on the window almost made her fall. She rushed over, to see Huw and the elf standing there. It took her a moment to work out how to open the crude horn panel that served as a window, then stepped back as Huw waved the elf forwards. ‘This is Rhiannon of Hamtun, the most talented dancer that Forland, perhaps any land, has seen. Rhiannon, this is …’ Huw paused as he realised he did not know the elf’s name.
‘Sendatsu,’ said Sendatsu as he hauled himself through the window, dropping lightly to the floor and straightening up.
Rhiannon had a thousand things she wanted to say but her throat seemed too tight, while her feet seemed too big, so she did not think she was capable of speech or movement.
‘Sendatsu?’ Huw asked. ‘I thought elven names were longer …’
Sendatsu looked from Huw to the blushing Rhiannon. Huw grunted and wriggled his way into the room, dropping in an ungainly heap on the floor.
‘Well, it’s Tadayoshi Moratsune Sendatsu,’ he said pleasantly.
Rhiannon swallowed. It was as if something forgotten or long-hidden had come alive within her. She could feel everything around her, sense the mice in the walls, the insects under the floor. It seemed as if she had but to ask, and the world would do her bidding. It left her feeling faint. ‘Tadayoshi Moratsune Sendatsu,’ she whispered.
