Bridge of Swords

by Duncan Lay

  ‘But you have to lie to make that happen, you have to deceive to do the honourable thing …’

  ‘I know!’ Gaibun said fiercely. ‘I shall find a new path to take, I don’t have to make all the same mistakes as my father.’

  Asami reached out to touch Gaibun’s arm — the muscles there were tense, jumpy. Gaibun held her hand.

  ‘Being so close to you and yet so far apart has been tearing me in two. I have not been myself but now I see clearly again. I will help you, you will see I have changed. Do you think there is a future for us?’

  ‘We shall always be friends,’ she told him.

  He squeezed her hand hard and grimaced at the same time.

  ‘But first we have the tombs waiting for us and time trickling away …’

  ‘Fine. I deserve little more,’ he sighed.

  ‘Gaibun …’

  He let go of her hand. ‘Are we going to do this or not?’

  She nodded and they ran silently down the street, keeping to the shadows.

  Apart from the constant tension between Sendatsu and Rhiannon, this was a golden time for Huw. Every village had a few young men who were going to leave anyway — and jumped at the chance to train with an elf; become protectors of Vales. Harlech handed over the weapons they had taken, as well as a dozen horses, which meant they could carry supplies and let the recruits practise riding.

  Rhiannon, with help from some village women, had sewn a dragon on a white square of linen. It was not quite the sort of dragon Huw had imagined from his childhood stories, it seemed shorter and chunkier, but it was unmistakeably powerful.

  Usually they kept it furled, strapped to a saddle, but when they got close to a village it was brought out, tied to a long, straight branch they had found for the purpose and carried proudly. Word began to spread and they were often greeted with cheering children, as well as young men carrying axes and the like, begging to join the ‘Dragon Warriors’. It was a fierce name and one Huw was happy to see adopted.

  Village headmen liked the idea of having an elven-trained army that would ride Vales and rid it of the Forlish menace, although Huw was careful not to say too much about what would happen after that. The Forlish armies were far to the south — and he fervently hoped they would stay there for as long as possible, to give Sendatsu time to turn the Dragon Warriors into something that might stand a chance against the Forlish.

  Sendatsu was still doubtful but he was careful to hide that and instead concentrated on training the young Velshmen. They were fit and strong, used to working long hours — but he made them wish they were back on their farms within days. Straight away they were made to cut bow shafts for themselves from nearby yew trees and, on the rare times when they were not training, had to make shafts for themselves.

  Every day they had to use the bow, until their arms, shoulders and backs were screaming. Then they picked up swords. To begin with, Sendatsu had them use wooden swords, carved from sticks, rather than real blades. But while they used the wooden swords for practice fights, they had to master the three basic blocks and nine basic strokes as they walked or rode to the next village, using the real swords to mimic those until they could barely lift their arms.

  Then they were made to do it all over again.

  Sendatsu thought some would leave, just disappear in the night. But none did. Part of that was undoubtedly pride, wanting to show an elf they were tough enough. Part of that was also Huw and Rhiannon. Each night they would play and sing for the young Velsh. No longer were they performing elven tales and songs, now these were stories of old Velsh heroes, songs of farming, of the girls left behind as young men went off to find their fortune.

  Huw and Rhiannon worked on those as they rode together, while Sendatsu yelled at the recruits behind. Often they were writing the songs from scratch, working off short tales Huw’s father had told him years ago. Rhiannon discovered she had a talent for writing tunes, coming up with the melodies for Huw’s lyre, using her pure, clean voice to give him the notes to follow.

  Also, they were the ones working on the villages they visited. Some of these were quick and easy — ones like Catsfield and Pigstrood that they had helped before. All they needed from there was food, men and horses, if any could be spared. But there were still many others they had not yet visited, which not only needed to be warned and helped, but persuaded to become part of Huw’s plans.

  While Sendatsu worked his young warriors, it was Huw and Rhiannon who spoke to the village headmen, showed them the crossbows and helped build watchtowers and protective walls, patrolled with dogs at night. With all the young dragons, walls could be thrown up in no time at all. Huw was writing down all the headmen’s names now, keeping a long list of villages and the ones who would be eager to join a greater Vales, others who were unsure but would probably go along — and the ones who mistrusted the very idea.

  When he had left Vales, such a thing would have seemed impossible. But the Forlish raiders had changed Vales. Every village had been affected by them in one way or another and even the most stubbornly independent could see the value in working together and having strength in numbers. It was easy to bring these isolated villages in, sell them on the idea of a united Vales. Sendatsu was seemingly content to teach the young dragons — but Huw’s greatest problem was with Rhiannon. Working on the songs, performing for everyone each night — it was hard not to think of themselves as a couple, not just a duet. Once or twice he thought he should act, lean in and kiss her, or at least take her hand. But he could not. After what happened with Sendatsu, he did not think she would appreciate it. Then there was his natural nervousness around her and the fear she would reject him. But most of all there was his conscience. He had lied to her. It might have been for the right reasons but he did not think she would see it like that. Especially as she had said, on more than one occasion, she could trust him. Of course, if he did not act before he told her the truth, then it would be all right. He told himself that anyway. It was the one bad habit he could not break.

  And none of that was helped by Sendatsu. The elf would always ask if Huw had come clean with Rhiannon.

  ‘You have to tell her. She has to know. Not only for the two of you — but also for her. Hanging over her all the time is the legacy of her father. It was one of the reasons she was able to believe me, the lies I told her,’ Sendatsu admitted. ‘She was used to being ordered around, used as a piece in her father’s game. We both know what the result of that game was going to be — she needs to know as well. At the moment she still holds to his memory, still thinks everything he did was for her. Learning the truth about me was painful for her but it was also valuable …’

  ‘Really?’ Huw could not help but ask.

  Sendatsu grimaced. ‘Not for me,’ he agreed. ‘And she wouldn’t see it like that just yet. But it has changed her. She is stronger in herself, more confident. She has more of her own opinion — and certainly doesn’t agree with me all the time any more.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll thank you one day,’ Huw said dryly.

  ‘Well, she won’t thank you if you don’t tell her the truth — and soon! Sit her down and explain everything. She will be angry but she will also understand. What she will never forgive is if we run into her father. Seeing as you told her he was dead, who do you think she will believe?’

  ‘I will tell her. I just have to find the right time,’ Huw insisted.

  ‘There is no right time. Just tell her!’

  But he could not bring himself to say it. There was always a really good reason — usually because he had seen her rip Sendatsu apart, then turn back to him with a smile. He could not bear the thought of her leaving, of never seeing her again.

  I just have to get her to fall in love with me, then she will listen, he told himself.

  And that did not seem too far-fetched a prospect.

  Rhiannon found herself thinking about Huw, more and more. When she had first known him, he had been a friend — but she had never imagined it being anything
more. She had seen the way he looked at her, read the way he acted around her but she had always been confident there would never be anything between them.

  After Sendatsu, she had not wanted to be involved with anyone. She never missed a chance to remind Sendatsu of what he had done, although he always refused to fight back. The sign of a guilty conscience, she told herself. But she could not help comparing Sendatsu with Huw. She had thought the elf was everything Huw was not — strong, powerful, confident, a warrior, as well as exotically good-looking.

  But Huw had never lied to her.

  And since he had come up with the idea of the Dragon Warriors, he had shown his strength, his courage and confidence. The way he dealt with the various village chiefs had been impressive. He used persuasion, conviction and inspiration to get them to come along with his dream of a free, united Vales. Watching the recruits sit around a fire, spellbound, as he told them of his dreams, watching village chiefs shake his hand and declare he was the man to lead Vales — it was stirring.

  Yet he was still the gentle, kind Huw she had first grown to know in Cridianton. Singing and performing with him, she had been able to put Sendatsu out of her mind. Once or twice she thought Huw might have tried to kiss her, indeed at one point their heads had almost been touching — but then he moved away.

  She wondered if he was thinking of Sendatsu, and her reaction to the elf’s lies and betrayal. And she wondered if she might be better off making the first move. It was strange, as she had been sure she had wanted nothing more to do with men and their lies and their lust, but time softened that stance, slowly. And she could see the village women looking at Huw differently. When they rode in, their eyes always went to Sendatsu. But when they rode out, it was to Huw that they looked.

  Not that Huw noticed. But perhaps, if she left it too long, he might …

  For now it was safe enough but she resolved to keep an eye on the young bard.

  With almost all of Gwent protected they headed north, into Powys, the part of Vales with the mines and the riches. Here they found the Forlish raiders again, looking for the gold that followed the precious metals being dug out of the ground. The big mining villages had been hit and hit again, usually when most of the men were underground. Here the people had become desperate. Miners did not want to leave homes and families unprotected, so production from the mines had dropped right away. People were scared and more than scared. Families were leaving, looking for somewhere safer, and the village chiefs were at their wits’ end.

  When Huw arrived, riding at the head of more than a hundred men, he was the answer to their desperate prayers. At first, of course, he nearly caused a panic. Nobody recognised the dragon banner and the mere sight of so many armed men had women and children running, screaming. They were met with a grim-faced mob of miners, faces and hands streaked with dirt but the picks, axes and shovels in their hands were clean and well cared for. It took some quick talking — mainly to hear the Velsh accents — before they were accepted.

  The presence of so many miners, as well as huge piles of spoil from the pits, made protecting these villages fast and easy. Even though Forlish raiders could arrive at any day, between the dragons and miners, earthen walls were thrown up in a day, while in another day there were enough elven crossbows to leave it well protected. There were always men willing to join the Dragon Warriors rather than dig for a living, although Huw could promise them no money, just food and a great deal of pain at Sendatsu’s hands. The pits also used small horses, ponies really, to drag carts of soil and ore around and Huw used almost all of his remaining Forlish gold to buy the small, tough horses, as well as pay smiths to make hundreds of arrowheads.

  They had quite a force now, an impressive sight, even if most of them were mounted on pit ponies rather than battle chargers, and there was not one of them over twenty summers.

  But they believed. They believed in Huw when he told them about a free Vales, where all would help each other. They wept when he sang them the song he and Rhiannon had written for them and for Vales itself. Huw called it ‘Land of My Fathers’ and they clamoured to learn the words, the lilting Velsh voices joining together each night to shout them to the skies. They sang it when they rode into a new village, to announce their presence and prove they were Velsh.

  They even sung it when they trained, although they only just had the breath for it. Sendatsu was ruthless with them, holding nothing back when it came to improving them.

  ‘Better take your punishment here, rather than when you meet the Forlish,’ he told them.

  He did not know whether he was teaching them the right way to fight, for the Forlish did not battle man to man but stood shoulder to shoulder in the shield wall. But it was all he knew — for now, it would have to do. They were changing every day, getting stronger, faster, more skilful.

  Sendatsu had had many sensei during his years of training, as well as his father’s methods, and he tried to take something from all of them. As for his father, Jaken’s way was his inspiration — to do exactly the opposite.

  At first he praised the recruits grudgingly but when some of them began to hold their own against him, force him to fully exert himself to beat them, the praise came naturally.

  Initially he tried to stay apart from them. After all, soon he would be returning to Dokuzen. But, even in Powys, the same old stories about the elves had been spread far and wide and the answers he sought were as elusive as ever.

  It was doubly frustrating. At every mining village, or farming village or fishing village they stopped at, there were elven buildings. Most were beautiful, some were wrecks and some had been crudely rebuilt, but all were poignant reminders of home. Or was it still home? With each passing day, Dokuzen seemed further away, both literally and figuratively. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from becoming involved with the Velsh struggle.

  He missed his children, an ache so deep it physically hurt, but now he was imagining a different way to get them back. More and more, the temptation was there to take them, get Asami and leave behind Dokuzen, live out here. The days were passing swiftly and Huw’s plan was coming to fruition — there was a real chance of making a whole country out of Vales. If that happened, then they could search for magical humans much more easily.

  But, if Huw was planning to trick him once more, he had a new plan. At the next full moon he would talk to Asami, get her help to get his children and bring them all out of Dokuzen. His young dragons might not be as good as the elves just yet but, with more training, they would be the match of a Council Guard. If he could but march into Jaken’s villa with a score of them at his back, then he would hold his children in his arms once more … it was a thought to give him hope, at least. No matter what, there would be an end to his torment out here.

  The recruits fell asleep each day, completely exhausted by the endless marching and training. At first the only ones awake barely an hour after dusk were usually Sendatsu, Huw and Rhiannon. Sendatsu left the other two to talk and instead wrapped himself in a blanket and dreamed of his children.

  But the recruits thrived under his training and soon he sat with the best of them, talking about many things. He liked their company, which was something he had never imagined — although it had the bonus of not having Rhiannon make endless sharp comments about him.

  The tombs of their forefathers were nestled beside a stream that fed the lake at Dokuzen’s heart and supplied water for much of the city. So making their way out to the tombs was easy enough. But, as they saw instantly, getting inside was going to be difficult.

  Torches burned at every corner of the building, while a squad of guards patrolled, or sat in the shadows of the ornate front entrance.

  ‘It looks like Jaken has left plenty of guards here still, despite the festival — almost as if he knew someone might be coming,’ Asami said, looking hard at Gaibun.

  His face was partly obscured but it did not seem to change.

  ‘It was an obvious precaution. I am sure he knows much of
what the Magic-weavers plan,’ he said coolly. ‘Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?’

  ‘What choice do we have, if we want to get Sendatsu back?’

  ‘Well, are you doing it for the right reasons?’

  ‘What do you mean? If you are not here to help me, then you can go any time …’

  ‘That’s not what I said,’ he interrupted. ‘But are you trying to get Sendatsu back to help him or to salve the guilt you are feeling for helping Sumiko send him away? I will help you either way but you should be certain in your own mind which it is.’

  ‘It is to help him,’ she said immediately.

  Gaibun smiled. ‘Well then, we only have the guards to worry about.’

  Asami ground her teeth in frustration. ‘Sumiko knew guards would not stop me, where they would give any other Magic-weaver pause,’ she spat.

  ‘Then we shall just have to get in there without being seen,’ Gaibun said lightly.

  Asami studied the area carefully. Once this had been beautiful gardens but they had been allowed to grow out of control over the past century. Now, however, someone had cut most of them down, clearing an open space for twenty paces in any direction around the building. But they had forgotten about the branches of the closest trees, which stretched almost to the roof.

  ‘I’ll need you to cause a diversion at the front, lead as many of them away as you can and keep them looking in that direction while I go in from the back.’

  ‘They will expect something like that,’ Gaibun warned.

  ‘Not like this, they won’t,’ Asami promised.

  Sendatsu’s dragons had their first real test outside the large mining village of Merthyr. This village was set up high, giving it a perfect view of the surrounding countryside. They had only arrived the night before and work had barely begun on defences, let alone building enough crossbows for the villagers. But the lookouts they posted had seen a band of Forlish approaching.