by Duncan Lay
‘As am I,’ Huw said immediately.
‘But you’re needed here!’ Sendatsu exclaimed.
‘I am coming along,’ Huw stated. ‘I need to make sure the new rulers of Dokuzen are willing to help my people — and that you don’t sacrifice Rhiannon to get your children back.’
Sendatsu grabbed him and pushed him back down the trail.
‘How can you say that? After all I’ve risked for you both,’ he said.
Huw stared him down. ‘I think you will do almost anything for your children. I know you have saved our lives before — but I don’t know if you could do the same, if it was a choice between Mai and Cheijun and Rhiannon. And you might dismiss my fears but I know full well your rulers will be prepared to kill to keep their secrets. I’m going to make sure Rhiannon is safe.’
‘She will not thank you,’ Sendatsu warned.
‘I don’t care. Her being safe will be enough for me,’ Huw lied defiantly.
‘This is a mistake. The Velsh need you —’
‘I am going. There will be no argument. The more you try to protest, the more I will suspect you.’
Sendatsu forced a smile. ‘You have nothing to worry about. It seems we are all going.’
3
Our forefathers were friends of the dragons and served these wondrous creatures of magic. But magic has a price to pay and it began to affect the Elfarans, to change the way they looked, while they never grew old, never got sick and never died.
Sendatsu’s song
King Ward of Forland looked out across his capital of Cridianton, his mind on Vales and how his grand plan to take the country by stealth was going. As always, he felt lifted by the sight of work underway, of new stone buildings reaching for the sky. But even the roof going on a new three-storey building near the castle was not enough to cheer him; he had been haunted by a sense of disquiet this past quarter-moon. What he had thought was the moment of his triumph had turned sour.
His southern wars, which had dragged on for years, had finally seemed over. The Landish had surrendered, the Balians were at his mercy. Precious knowledge was flooding back to the Forlish and his only remaining decision had been whether to proceed with the invasion of the Skilly Isles or to gather his troops to push on for an assault on Demetia, the last free country between himself and the southern sea. True, there had been minor concerns, but nothing more than a monarch normally faced. Some were disquieting — for instance, two of his favourite performers had disappeared into the night and nobody seemed to know where. Worse, he had been consumed with thoughts of the girl Rhiannon, and had actually made a deal with her father for her, right before she ran away with a bard calling himself Hugh or something. Then the father had taken a Royal Seal and a squad of soldiers and he had disappeared as well. Ward did not like mysteries. As king he was used to getting answers whenever he wanted them. To be left in the dark was for little people. But no matter what he did, nobody seemed to know what had happened to any of them. The village of Browns Brook, where the bard Hugh had apparently been from, denied all knowledge and kept denying it, even when put to the rack. They had given him only one useful piece of information, revealing that Hector had been there and then left for Vales at speed.
Vales. That was a major source of disquiet. There had been several encouraging reports of villages terrorised, even one village that was leaving out food rather than be raided. It all sounded as though they would fall on their knees with gratitude when he offered to remove the bandit problem and replace it with his rule. But then the reports stopped. He had heard nothing from the north for a moon.
Something had gone wrong but he did not know what. Normally that would have been his only focus but then had come the news that really affected him and soured the taste of victory in his mouth.
He was dying.
Physicians from Landia, the finest in the world, had been brought to Cridianton and made to examine him. He had expected them to be afraid of him but, when they had been terrified, he knew something was wrong.
‘It’s because I can’t go through the night without needing to get up and piss six times, isn’t it?’ he said, to stop them falling to their knees and waving their arms at him.
‘We have seen this before,’ the bravest of them replied. ‘It never ends well.’
Behind them, Ward could see his castellan waving guards forwards, anticipating his king’s decision.
Instead Ward held up his hand. The castellan might control the mighty castle at Cridianton with an iron fist but this was a time for something gentler.
‘We sacrificed much to gain these men’s knowledge. They shall not suffer for it,’ he declared. ‘I cannot kill men for telling me the truth.’
The youngest of the physicians burst into tears of gratitude.
‘Is there anything you can give me — herbs or potions or the like?’ Ward asked.
‘There are herbs, sire. But they are not a cure.’
‘How long have I got?’
‘Less than a year, sire. It depends on the strength of the man.’
Ward smiled a little. ‘Then I have two years. Go, make your potions, prepare your herbs. My castellan will give you anything you need.’
The physicians had left, singing his praises.
‘Sire, we shall make sure nobody knows of this. If it was to get out that you are … sick … it would give new hope to our enemies,’ his castellan had said softly. ‘I think we should ensure their silence.’
Ward shook his head. ‘If I die, it will give them greater hope again — and those men are my best chance at surviving.’
He did not regret the decision then, or now. The southern countries he had conquered might think him evil, might scare their children with tales of what he had done, but his belief in his actions was strong enough to brush over such nonsense. In years to come, men would point back to this time and say he changed the course of human history. He would raise mankind back up again and future generations would sing his praises, even if those he enslaved today cursed his name. But only if he finished what he started. He had almost completed his mission. Within a couple of years, every human country would be his, their knowledge to be shared among all. And if he was gone, who would carry on? His sons were fools, the pair of them. They cared only for conquest and slaughter, not understanding his greater purpose. His wife was bitter — made so by his behaviour but twisted nonetheless. It was no use trying to tell her his attempts to bed half the court were to prove to himself he was still as hearty as ever, as much a man as he had always been — despite the evidence of his weak bladder and the pain every time he pissed. No, it was too late to win her back. If he was to die before he was finished, then the knowledge would be lost and humans would slip back again.
He could not die — he would not die until his life’s work was complete!
But looking out over Cridianton, at the buildings still taking shape, he felt a touch of fear for the first time.
‘Sire?’ The voice of his castellan interrupted his thoughts.
‘Summon my war captains. We shall need to act faster. Time is running out. I want my wars finished before the end of winter,’ he said.
‘Sire, that is what I am here about,’ his castellan said nervously.
‘Well?’
‘Men have returned from Vales with news, sire.’
‘And it is not good news,’ Ward said flatly. ‘Come then. I have already heard the worst. Now I need to know what is happening around me.’
Sendatsu settled down to sleep in Huw’s house with the greatest of difficulty. The day had not improved after they returned to the village.
The villagers had greeted them by rushing out to throw petals and celebrate with the newly joined couple. That ended swiftly when they saw Glyn’s body and the blood on Huw’s face. Rhiannon had rushed away and he and Huw had gone through the motions — sending his Dragon Warriors out to search for Hanto, getting their burns treated with a compress of honey and goose grease and answering dozens of confused questions from
worried people.
They would ride out with the dawn and he should be overjoyed at the thought of seeing Mai and Cheijun again — but he worried about Rhiannon. Though she ate ravenously, she had said nothing to them.
As for Huw, he had a new ruthlessness about him. He had ordered the dragons to ride out and summon all the village headmen to Patcham, to wait for his return.
‘If they hesitate, remind them of their promises to me. If they don’t come of their own free will, tell them I shall visit them on my return, with every Dragon Warrior we have. They have to understand we must be as tough as Ward if we are to survive,’ Huw had told the dragons.
Sendatsu tried in vain to get comfortable and avoid lying on his burns. He pushed his thoughts towards Mai and Cheijun. Soon they would be together again. But Huw’s words haunted him. What would he have to do to keep them? How could things go back to the way they were?
Huw paced around the kitchen. Between the fire of his burns, the jagged pain of the cuts and bruises Hector had given him and the sour agony of losing Rhiannon, he could not rest. Time and again he walked towards the door of his father’s old bedroom, where Rhiannon had gone after eating, slamming the door behind her. Each time he stepped away before knocking.
Finally he sat in his father’s chair. As always, it seemed to clear his mind. They might need the elves to save them from the Forlish but they would not trust them. He would see not just the Velsh but all humans rise. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.
Rhiannon did not think she could possibly sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the branch pierce her father, heard and smelled his death. But she was so tired her legs were shaking and she fell onto the bed. This time, as her eyes closed, a flying dragon swooped to catch her on golden wings and she flew away to sleep.
Ward listened to the reports in silence. He had already heard from his scouts that the Velsh villages were fortified, that his grand plan to use soldiers disguised as bandits to terrify the Velsh into submission had not only failed but somehow united the Velsh and given them teeth. Now he was listening to how well the Velsh could defend those villages, from three survivors of a failed attack. He could feel the terror flowing off the three men but he did nothing to reassure them. They had not come to Cridianton but instead tried to rejoin their units in Balia. Of course they had been spotted by their captains as soon as they arrived, and questioned. The answers had been so alarming that the captains had sent them back to Cridianton by fast horse, under armed guard. They had arrived almost at the same time as the scouts.
‘So the peaceful Velsh have discovered how to fight?’ Ward mused, when the disjointed tales from the three soldiers had petered out. ‘How good was this Sergeant Osric, who took these men north?’
‘Not my best sergeant but a very experienced man. He would not have been defeated easily,’ a captain declared.
‘So they have some strange crossbow that can fire many small bolts at a time, and they have elven help.’ Ward tapped the rim of his throne, a gesture that caused one of the three soldiers kneeling before him to wet himself with terror.
‘Should we put these men to the rack, see if the story is the same, sire?’ the castellan asked.
‘Of course. Yet I think men in fear of their lives would not make up something so ridiculous to save their skins,’ Ward said softly.
‘What do you want us to do, sire?’ the castellan asked.
‘I already have a picture of what is going on in Vales. But I need more. Send another company of scouts to the north-east to see what is going on with the elves. Are they looking to rejoin the world once more? Is the barrier keeping all humans out still as strong as ever?’
‘Your will, sire.’ The castellan bowed. ‘We shall make sure their story stays the same, no matter what we do to them.’
Ward ignored the cries of the three men being dragged away. An elf helping Vales? Dokuzen had always been the last name on his list — only when the human lands were under his control would he turn his attention to the elves. But he knew his time was slipping away. Dokuzen had everything he had ever dreamed of. It was the ultimate storehouse of knowledge. But best of all was the secret the elves guarded so carefully — immortality. Ward remembered reading about elves still young when the grandchildren of the humans they met had grey in their hair. He was sure his name would live forever but that was not enough. Not when he could feel the cold breath of death on the back of his neck. To live forever — he would risk everything for that.
‘Change of orders. Summon the regiments back and muster the men we were planning for the assault on the Skilly Isles,’ he ordered. ‘And find me a way through the barrier around Dokuzen!’
Sendatsu woke just after dawn, thinking there was somehow another attack by the Forlish underway. People were shouting and screaming and, as he fumbled for his sword, Huw burst into the room.
‘We have to leave! Now!’ he cried, his eyes wide.
‘Why? What is it?’ Sendatsu rubbed sleep out of his eyes and cursed his still burning wounds.
‘The villagers. They have learned about Rhiannon’s magic and they have come here to beg, plead and demand it,’ Huw said grimly. ‘It is worse than ever it was with you — and I have no idea how to stop it. Luckily Cadel had a squad of guards around my house or they would be in here now.’
‘But why now?’
Huw smiled humourlessly. ‘Word got out and spread like wildfire. One person came here and then the crowd. You know what we think about magic. Now there’s a human who can make magic happen — and they have learned she is about to leave for Dokuzen. Half of them out there want her to save them or their families before she goes, the other half want her to show them how to do magic themselves.’
‘We need to get out of here. We have to protect Rhiannon.’ Sendatsu blinked his eyes clear.
‘That’s what I am doing,’ Huw told him. ‘Bowen is bringing horses to us, as well as more dragons. They’ll escort us out of here but we need to go now. We can worry about eating later.’
Sendatsu pulled on his tunic and grabbed his few possessions before joining Huw and Rhiannon in the main room of Huw’s house. The walls of Huw’s home were stone but out here the noise of the people was even louder. He was surprised he had stayed asleep through it as long as he had. Rhiannon was staring at the door, which shook occasionally, and the room echoed to indistinct shouts and yells.
‘Once we are in Dokuzen, you shall be safe from this,’ he said reassuringly.
She turned to face him, her face still so much colder than usual. ‘I am safe here. Nobody will harm me again,’ she promised. ‘But I need to go to Dokuzen. The people need more magic than just I can provide.’
Sendatsu nodded.
The door burst open and Cadel jumped inside, the noise from outside doubling. They could see the crowd being kept at bay by the young dragons, who were shouting and pushing back.
‘Here comes Bowen with the horses. You need to move fast — I don’t know if we can hold them once they see you,’ Cadel warned.
Huw smiled briefly. ‘We’ll be fine. You know what to do when we’re gone?’
‘Aye. All will be ready for your return,’ Cadel promised.
Sendatsu also forced a smile, although could not help wondering if they would return.
Bowen and his squad used horses to create space so the villagers were not able to get past and Huw, Rhiannon and then Sendatsu were able to step outside and get into the saddle. The extra height just made the crowd look worse. Almost all the village was there, Sendatsu reckoned. They were shouting, demanding — and begging — for help.
‘Come on! The longer we delay, the worse it is. They’ll calm down once we have gone!’ Huw shouted over the hubbub. He turned to the crowd. ‘We’ll be back, with magic for all!’ he bellowed, but even his trained voice was lost in the din.
He signalled to the other two, and to Bowen, and they rode through the space the dragons created for them, people pressing in on all sides.
/> ‘We’ll be back! Magic for all!’ Huw called out several times, but it did little to calm them.
Finally they managed to kick the horses into a gallop, outpacing the pursuit and getting clear of the village.
They paused outside the village, the calls and cries of the villagers still faintly reaching them.
‘This is what the elves did to us. This is what they robbed from us,’ Rhiannon said harshly.
‘You don’t know that. We still don’t know what really happened,’ Sendatsu pointed out.
‘We know that the elves kept magic and Aroaril to themselves, when there was no reason we could not share with them,’ Huw added.
‘We can’t say that once we are in Dokuzen. We have to be careful,’ Sendatsu said.
‘Well, what can we say in Dokuzen? If we are going there, you have to tell us what it is really like, what we need to do to fit in there,’ Huw said.
Sendatsu choked back a laugh. Fit in there? That was hard enough for him! They began riding again as he tried to explain.
‘Elven society is strictly structured, and all must hold to their social class. The only exception to this is when we learn to defend ourselves, as youngsters. But once we are adults, we are always mindful of who we are talking to and the danger of offering insult. And it is easy to offer insult. A careless comment, even a sideways glance, can be construed as an insult. Sometimes this is merely noted and remembered later, usually if the insult was from someone of high rank to another of their class. But if someone of a low class insults someone far above them, they will be punished for it — possibly even killed.’
‘That is what the elves are really like?’ Rhiannon asked disdainfully.
Sendatsu tried a smile. ‘You have met me, learned what you have — and you can still say that?’
‘You’re right — I can believe that now,’ she said.
‘At the top are the clan leaders, who sit on the Elven Council. Below them are the elves of the first rank, the richest and most powerful supporters of the clan leaders. Below them sit the Border Patrol and Council Guard, below them the merchants, then the craftsmen, then miners, farmers and fishers and finally the servants and lowest labourers, called esemono by those above them. Off to the side are the Magic-weavers, who are feared by the lower classes and despised by the upper.’
