by Duncan Lay
‘They’re going to let it burn,’ Gaibun said, confirming what she was already thinking.
‘We can’t … we have to do something,’ Asami moaned.
‘We have to get away. That is all we can do.’ Gaibun began guiding her away. She did not have the strength, nor the will to stop him.
‘But Sendatsu …’
‘Will have to find his own way home,’ Gaibun said coldly.
Almost blinded by tears of frustration, her mind a whirl of exhaustion and despair, Asami stumbled along beside him.
Although they had lost three of their dragons, with another eight wounded, it made a dramatic difference. Not only had the survivors gained a swagger but the villagers had seen other Velshmen drive away the Forlish. Their losses were made up in a day, with more than a score of young men eager to sign up, while ‘Land of My Fathers’ was being sung around fires every night.
And the headman was completely won over. Merthyr was a rich village, even able to afford to buy elven buildings from poorer villages, ship them up to Merthyr and then rebuild them there. The tin that came out of Merthyr was much in demand to make brass and Huw had suspected the headman, Griff, would be less than impressed at the prospect of becoming part of Vales if it meant handing over some of his riches. But, after seeing the dragon flag drive back the Forlish, he was caught up in the mood of excitement.
‘I never thought we could do that but if your boyos can keep the Forlish away from us, I’d be happy to be part of your Vales,’ he said.
‘It’s not going to be my Vales …’ Huw began.
‘Come now! Who else is it going to be? It’s you who’s making this all come true,’ Griff declared.
Huw was pleased to have the man’s support — although the rest of the meeting left him feeling discomfited. The richest villagers, as well as their wives and families, had all gathered inside an elven-built hall. While he wanted to tell them about a united Vales, they had other things in mind. Once they discovered he was unmarried, some of the women had almost thrown their daughters at him. He had never seen that before. Usually it was Sendatsu who got all the attention but the elf wanted to stay with his wounded dragons. At first Huw found the attention flattering but he was soon making excuses to get out of the meeting, as well as Merthyr, as fast as possible.
Rhiannon had also seen that, and made her think. She had been enjoying her relationship with Huw, the time they spent together working on songs and plans for Vales. The thought of him accepting one of the young women being propelled towards him, of losing him, began to haunt her. And not just because of their singing and music. She realised, with a jolt, the thought of Huw with another woman was too painful to imagine.
So, that night, while Sendatsu worked with the new dragons, she sat down with Huw.
‘We had plenty of success at Merthyr. What are your plans for the next one?’ she asked.
‘Well, we need to head to the coast, visit some of the shipping villages, where our goods are bought and shipped south to Forland and beyond. Along the way, I need your help,’ he admitted. ‘When I began asking these headmen and village chiefs to join my idea of a united Vales, I did not think it would be me they would want as their leader.’
‘Well, who else would they choose? You have the dream, you have the dragons, you have given them a flag, a song, pride. It is natural,’ Rhiannon said. ‘Sendatsu was right. You are the hero they need.’
Huw shook his head. ‘We all are. We all bring something that the people need. By ourselves we would be nothing — only together can we help them.’
Rhiannon just smiled. Spending so much time with Huw told her he was not merely dissembling. He truly did not see himself as others saw him now. Gone was the uncertain bard, the man with doubt in every line of his face and body. Here was a confident man with a compelling voice and certainty he was doing the right thing for his people. The villagers, the dragons, the headmen — they could all see his vision when he sang it for them and knew only through him could it become reality.
She wished she had seen this Huw earlier.
‘It is not enough to spin a tale of a united Vales. We must have a real plan for how it could work, how we could truly make a country from these scattered villages.’
‘Me?’ Rhiannon laughed. ‘I don’t know about making a country …’
‘Do you think I do? But we must have something ready. Please, help me.’
Rhiannon looked into his eyes and realised he could have asked anything of her at that point and she would have agreed. But, unlike Sendatsu, he was not about to pounce, which made him all the more attractive.
They had a bundle of lambskins to write on, as well as ink, but it was too precious to waste with foolish ideas — they had to talk and think before putting the new Vales down in writing.
‘The main thing has to be sharing some of the wealth around. But it can’t be too much, or we shall put off all the richer villages in Powys,’ Huw grumbled.
‘Maybe each village has to put in a tenth of their goods — and then all of it is shared around equally,’ Rhiannon suggested. ‘Not too much to upset the big villages but enough to make a difference to the smaller.’
They worked on villages sending their chief to a central meeting, where all could decide important matters.
‘But we can’t have it that we need to get everyone’s agreement. Two-thirds should be the figure. Otherwise we’d never agree to anything,’ Huw reckoned.
‘You need to negotiate on behalf of Vales with the Forlish and Balians and Landish. Now, each village is competing against each other, so the buyers can go from one to the next, can beat your prices down,’ Rhiannon pointed out.
And so they went on, trying to come up with a country where life would be fair, where all could live well.
‘Sendatsu can show us how to eat better, live better — live longer,’ Huw said, then moved on hastily when he saw the expression on her face at the mere mention of Sendatsu’s name. ‘I’ll have to give up command of the dragons — they should be independent. Otherwise people will do things out of fear of the dragons, not because it is best for Vales.’
‘But you will need them. People don’t do things because it is right. Often only greed or self-interest or fear will make them,’ she warned.
‘Then perhaps you should command the dragons.’ He grinned.
‘I would do a good job. After all, I am a better fighter than you.’ Rhiannon smiled back.
‘Oh, really? Is this the same girl who froze on stage in front of King Ward, and had to be saved by me playing the “Song of Elves”?’ Huw teased.
‘I’ll show you!’ Rhiannon laughed, leaning across to try to push him over.
Moons of riding and days of wielding shovels to help villages build defensive walls had added muscle to Huw but she caught him by surprise and he went over backwards; he flailed his hand, trying to stop himself, and only succeeded in bringing her down as well. Next moment they were lying down, side by side, just inches away from each other.
Huw’s laugh died as he realised just how close they were. Her thigh lay across his, while her tunic was rucked tight around her breasts, which were almost touching his chest. He looked into her eyes and wanted so much to kiss her. And more than kiss her.
But then he found himself thinking about her father, perhaps out in Vales this very night. And the lies he had told to get her up here — and he could not.
‘I am sorry. I did not mean to …’ he said hurriedly, then rolled to his feet and strode away, trying to control himself — and stop himself from going back.
Rhiannon lay there, bewildered. She had been sure Huw had been about to kiss her — she had seen it in his eyes. She was tempted to go after him but could see him walking over to where Sendatsu and the new dragons still worked by firelight.
‘Here’s Huw now! Will you give us a song to ease these brave lads’ sleep?’ Sendatsu called.
Huw forced a smile. ‘Of course. And then I need to talk to you.’
&n
bsp; Sendatsu nodded. He sat and listened, watching the faces of his dragons as Huw sang to them, and realised he loved them. He had given them his knowledge but they had also given him something as well. Huw was the leader here but he could not just sit back and avoid responsibility any longer. He had run away from things all his life — now he felt the temptation to make changes to his own life, even to Dokuzen. With a force like this, he could make a difference.
‘Sleep well — you’ll need it for the morrow,’ Huw told them. ‘If you are to march and fight with the dragons!’
They cheered him, but Sendatsu could see there was something wrong with Huw, and willingly followed the bard away from the new dragons.
‘What is it?’ he asked urgently.
‘Rhiannon — we were about to kiss!’ Huw said desperately.
‘So? Isn’t that what you wanted? Why not kiss her?’ Sendatsu grunted, trying not to think of Rhiannon’s long, slim legs …
‘But I haven’t told her about her father yet!’
Sendatsu groaned. ‘What did I say? It is going to come back to bite you. You have to tell her, and tell her now. Why have you left it so long?’
‘Well, I wanted to make sure she would listen to what I had to say and not think I was a liar like …’
‘Like me,’ Sendatsu finished grimly.
Huw shrugged. ‘Sorry.’
‘No matter. Look, you have to do it now, or she will be asking questions. If you were so close, she will want to know why you did not kiss her.’
Huw nodded shakily. ‘I shall.’
‘Do it! Explain what happened but don’t say her father is loose in Vales. Not yet anyway. Let her digest that he is a bastard who was about to sell her to Ward for gold. When she accepts that, then let her know he is up here looking for her, trying to drag her back to Cridianton and Ward’s bed.’
Huw nodded again. ‘I shall,’ he declared.
‘Good man! You two should be together. Just don’t tell me what happens afterwards.’ Sendatsu clapped him on the back.
Huw threw back his shoulders and strode towards where he had left Rhiannon. He would tell her. It was time to get it off his chest, he resolved. Then they could have a real future together.
But Rhiannon was not by the fire, where he had left her. He looked around, suddenly afraid, to see her beckon to him from the shadows, then walk away, down into a hollow, far from where Sendatsu and the dragons were around other fires.
Feeling his stomach swooping around, Huw hurried over, trying to stop his hands shaking and his mouth drying out. He was more nervous now than he had been before performing for Ward at Cridianton. But he had to get it out. They could not have a life together until she knew the truth.
‘Rhiannon, there is something very important I need to tell you,’ he began as he walked down into the grassy hollow, trying, unsuccessfully, to see in the darkness.
But he did not get the chance to say anything else. Rhiannon took his hand and pulled hard, yanking him down to the ground. She leaned in and kissed him on the lips for what seemed like forever and no time at all.
All other thought fled from his mind and he helped her to rip his clothes off.
24
I can remember only too well what snapped me out of my melancholic mist. I was visiting my wife’s grave and kneeling beside her gravestone, wishing she was there with me, when a pair of young elves attacked. How they did not kill me I do not know. I heard a whisper of movement behind me and, even in my grief, still retained enough of my skills to roll to my left, so the sword struck the top of my wife’s gravestone, rather than the top of my head.
I always carried a sword and it was in my hand when I rolled to my feet. My eyes cleared for the first time in moons and I recognised my young attackers — both Council Guards and members of my own clan. Too late I remembered that Naibun had removed my guard detail, at my request.
‘What are you doing?’ I demanded.
‘You must die, traitor!’ one roared and then they were both rushing at me. But although my hands had held tears rather than swords since my wife’s death, the old moves came back to me. My first attacker lost his head, the second could not move with my sword deep in his lungs.
‘Who sent you? Why did you do this?’ I demanded of the dying youth. ‘Answer me and I shall ease your passing.’
His only answer was to spit in my face.
I finished him off and wiped my face clean. Now I knew I was in danger — but I still did not realise the direction.
‘Work harder!’ Broyle ordered.
Sweating men cursed him under their breath but redoubled their efforts.
After a day of fruitlessly searching for the elves who had escaped from him, he had discovered his prey had slipped past him and were now fortifying the village of Brynmawr. He was tempted to launch an attack but he had too few men — and the business with the elves escaping had shaken his men’s confidence. Better to stick to his original plan, he reasoned.
He found a pair of farms nestled in an isolated valley, surrounded by thick woods. And once the families living there were buried deep, it became the perfect base. He had men out hunting, others raiding villages for items they needed — sometimes he even sent Hector into a village to buy something they would have struggled to find in a night-time raid — and always he rode the trails, searching for more men. He had put together nearly two hundred now, not quite as many as he wanted but probably sufficient for the task. Through much trial and error, he had managed to create a crude catapult and was now working on another. Men had slaved to build it and now to master it, able to hurl a boulder several hundred yards. It was nothing like the huge trebuchets and ballistae down with the army in Balia but he hoped it was easily enough for a walled village.
With that was a huge ram, an entire tree trunk with its roots trimmed to make a fearsome club head. Just getting it to the village was going to be a feat in itself. Once there, he planned to build a wheeled base for it, shielded, where twenty men could push it in close in relative safety and then smash a hole in the walls.
The men had also been working with axes, building huge, heavy shields, which covered not just the chest but the whole body. Any advance would be slow but completely protected. His whole battle plan called for getting as many men as possible inside the walls. There they would be like foxes in a hen house. He planned to kill everyone and everything, save perhaps one person, who could then tell the tale of the fools who tried to defy the might of the Forlish!
‘Are we ready?’ Hector asked impatiently. Sitting here, having little to do, had grated on his nerves but he recognised Broyle’s drive and vision and was not prepared to defy him.
‘Yes,’ Broyle said finally. ‘It will take us until the next full moon to get everything across to Patcham. And hopefully we can find a few more men on the way. Go into every village we come across. Spend some money and leave the message for the elf and bard with your daughter. We want them to reach the village before we do. If they arrive afterwards, they might be too scared or too clever to go inside.’
‘What if they don’t take the bait?’ Hector demanded. ‘I did this because you promised me my daughter back!’
‘If they fail to save Patcham, it will destroy their plans. They have to try and save the village,’ Broyle dismissed. ‘If they do not, they will betray everything they have done. I hope they are too afraid! It will make the rest of the country easy pickings. They will run and nowhere will be safe for them.’
‘But what if they bring in extra men?’ Hector pressed.
‘Let them. They won’t stand against us,’ Broyle boasted. ‘One last thing — don’t let anyone know it is your daughter. If word gets back to them, they will know it is a trap for sure and might do something clever, like emptying the village. And we can’t let that happen. We have to make an example of them, show the Velsh they cannot hope to stand against us.’
Hector looked at the busy camp and nodded. There was no way a pack of ragged-arse sheep-shaggers cou
ld stand against these men.
‘We move at dawn! Move or I’ll strap you to the front of the ram and wheel you out for the Velsh bows myself!’ Broyle roared.
Nothing grew in Sumiko’s garden. The earth was bare, hard and smooth, revealing nothing. It had been two days since the tombs were destroyed, although that knowledge had been kept from most of Dokuzen’s residents. As few had ever visited — and all had been discouraged over the last few years — Sumiko doubted it would ever become wide knowledge. She had raged around her garden, wiping out everything when she heard — although she had had time to think since, to try to see how she could drag something out of this disaster.
‘Jaken suspects my hand in this but, seeing as I and the rest of the Magic-weavers were sitting with Daichi and the Council while you were at the tombs, there is nothing he can prove,’ she said. ‘Does he suspect you?’
Asami smiled wanly. ‘Of course — but he can prove nothing. Gaibun got me away from there safely before returning and joining the search, to cover himself.’
‘But did he betray you from the start? Did he guide Jaken to you?’
Asami shook her head defiantly. She had lain awake, worrying that very thing, but could not force herself to believe it. ‘He is an honourable elf. He would not do such a thing. Besides, he did not have the time. I barely had time to get into the tombs before the Border Patrol were on us. No doubt Jaken was ready for us.’
‘And the books were destroyed — you are sure of that?’
Asami hesitated. The race away through the woods had been a blur. She had been so tired, so drained by the magic and failure that she expected to be caught at any moment. Yet the dozens of Border Patrol had missed her. ‘The tombs were ablaze when we left and I dared not wait and see. But nobody was making any move to fight the fire.’
Sumiko sighed. ‘And you were not even identified?’
‘I do not believe so.’
‘It seems too convenient you were able to get in there, see the books, yet not be able to take them away — and still be able to escape,’ she said absently.
