by Duncan Lay
Certainly there had been no opposition yet but, instead of reassuring Edmund, it made him feel worse. The elves were out there and planning something, he knew it.
‘Faster!’ he ordered, yet again.
‘Do you think we’ll all carry back a sack of gold?’ Harald wondered as they sat around panting during one of the short rest breaks.
‘I don’t want one, if we have to march like this back down this road,’ Ruttyn grumbled.
‘You want to worry about winning the battle first and dividing the spoils later,’ Caelin warned them. ‘We know how the elves can fight and just appear out of the bloody trees.’
‘And we don’t have any cavalry, like Captain Wulf had. Those elves don’t like cavalry,’ Ruttyn said.
‘I’m going out on a limb here but we should have brought the wife’s mother. She’d guarantee us victory. Not even a magical elf could stand against her nagging. They’d give up within a moon,’ Harald offered, but his heart was not really in the jest.
‘On your feet, lads.’ Caelin levered himself up. ‘The rest of the boys are getting up.’
‘Already?’ Ruttyn groaned. ‘Honestly, if I never see another bloody tree again I’ll be happy. How those elves can sing poems about them, I don’t bloody know.’
‘Oh, leaf it alone, would you!’ Harald nudged him.
Ruttyn stared at him. ‘One more tree joke and I swear I’ll stuff you inside one of the bloody things for an elf to find.’
‘Oh, you wood, wood you …’
Caelin had to hold Ruttyn back.
‘Just eager to get to the elven city, sir,’ he explained to a glowering officer.
‘Scouts, eh? Well, if you’re so eager, get forwards! Quick now!’
Caelin led the other two up the column, swearing. Neither Ruttyn nor Harald said anything.
Gaibun crept through the trees. His orders were not to sacrifice his warriors and, Aroaril knew, he had few enough of those. But he also needed to slow down the Forlish advance and give Dokuzen the chance to prepare. After that disaster down south with Konetsu, he had no intention of trying to ambush a few scouts. All that had achieved was to show the Forlish where the elven positions were and then they used their greater numbers to smash the elves. Here, the gaijin force was even bigger.
His original idea to slow down their advance had been to strike at the head of the snake, hide and wait until the Forlish commanders came past then launch an attack on them, hoping to kill or wound enough to throw the Forlish into disarray. That idea required the sacrifice of every warrior he had, so obviously could not work this time around. But he liked the idea of avoiding the scouts and striking at unsuspecting men behind.
So he had led most of his warriors in a wide loop around the thick screen of scouts that guarded the Forlish advance. Never had his time in the Border Patrol been more useful. Many of his erstwhile comrades had been happy to sit and gamble, or sneak back to the city rather than patrol properly, secure in the knowledge that the barrier kept them safe and there was no need for such vigilance. Gaibun had never made that mistake and he used his knowledge now.
The Forlish scouts were skilled, working in small groups and covering each other as they pushed forwards. They were also ranging far ahead, half a mile in front of the main column and a mile further out. But they were not elves and they did not have any magic. Gaibun watched them go past and then led his warriors closer in to the road. He planned to let the first few companies go past, as they would be ready to respond to an attack on the scouts and could probably withstand an attack on themselves.
The next companies, thinking themselves safe in the middle of the advance — they would be the target.
So he lay there in the bushes, unmoving, watching the Forlish march forwards. He had heard much about them from the Velsh when he had been training them — but even the likes of Cadel and Bowen and Tadd had only ever fought the Forlish as raiders. This was something else again. Gaibun watched carefully as they strode forwards in tight lines, shields on their backs and spears over their shoulders, while short swords sat at their hips. All wore mail shirts made up of interconnected links, which covered their chests and bellies, over the top of thick leather tunics that stretched to their thighs. Their ranks were neat and they marched in silence, the only talking the calls of the corporals and sergeants, as they kept the lines moving and in perfect order.
It was completely different to anything he had seen before. He hated them for their order and discipline but above all for stamping their filth into his land. He was tempted to order an attack but then a new company came into view; these ones had their spears on their backs and carried bags slung on carrying poles over one shoulder.
Gaibun tapped the elves nearest to him on the shoulder, and they passed the message on. About half of his warriors were to stay back and loose arrows. The rest would join him. He expected the Forlish column to coil back on him, like a wounded snake, and he anticipated a fast pursuit through the forest. But he had a few tricks ready for that as well.
‘Ready!’ the elf to his left whispered, a signal echoed a moment later by the one on the right, letting him know the message had been passed down the line.
Gaibun came to his feet in one lithe move and drew his sword. Saying nothing and making little noise, he raced at the lines of marching Forlish.
For long moments, nothing seemed to happen. The Forlish were not looking off into the trees but at each other, or straight ahead.
Then the first arrows whipped in and the Forlish began to drop, thrown backwards by the force of the longbows. Screams and shouts rang out down the column as men were struck, or jostled by hurt comrades, while the injured howled.
All eyes snapped to their right flank, where the arrows were pouring in. The first instinct of the Forlish was to duck away, to cover up, and they fumbled for shields, looking to see where their attackers were — and how many. They peered into the trees — to see Gaibun emerge at the head of a band of grim-faced elves, long swords in hand.
A Forlishman thrust his spear at Gaibun but it was simple to twitch his sword and flick the point aside, then his speed took him past the spearhead and the terror on the Forlishman’s face was almost comical. Gaibun used the dragon-tail cut to remove the man’s head, then he was among the disordered ranks, cutting and slashing as though crazed. The Forlish tried to swing their spears around, but did not have the room to wield the weapons properly. Others grabbed for swords, and their shields, but the precious heartbeats needed to get them around and onto the arm were often the last that soldier had before an elf cut them down.
Even if they did get their sword out, the short sword they all carried was no match for the longer, curved elven sword.
Gaibun ducked under a spear butt and used the windmill stroke to take an arm; a shouting Forlishman rushed at him from the left but he sidestepped and used zigzag strokes to befuddle the soldier. His sword cut deeply into the man’s mail-clad chest, but the mail and leather backing slowed it enough that he knew it was not a fatal blow. The Forlishman reeled away a couple of paces and then pressed forwards again, mouth open to scream hatred. Gaibun picked his spot and drove his sword into the rent he had cut into the mail shirt and deep into the lungs beyond. All the long lessons, the years of practice, made this seem like second nature as he twisted the blade to break the flesh’s suction and rip his sword clear, spraying blood over his face and the surrounding fighters.
He pivoted smoothly, keeping himself in balance and picked out his next target, cutting him down with the tiger-claw stroke across the neck. He was close enough to smell the breath of the men he was killing, the odour of rotting flesh coming from their filthy teeth, while the coppery tang of blood and the foul stench as the bowels of the dead opened was thick in his nose and throat. The road was turned to mud by a revolting mixture of blood, shit, piss and brains to make the footing even more slippery. The Forlish ranks were all mixed up and Gaibun’s elves pressed their advantage, hacking and slashing. They fought alone
but so did most of the men.
Gaibun felt his sword bite into the edge of a shield and he overpowered the man, using a series of high blows. Then, while the man was dazed and his shield up in the air, Gaibun plunged in low and ripped up, hearing the man’s bubbling scream cut through the battle sounds as the steel bit into his groin. The horrid noise brought Gaibun back to his senses and stopped the battle lust.
‘Enough! Back!’ he called, waving his sword high. Better to leave now, before the Forlish cut off his escape.
His band heard him and followed him back, although he had to grab a couple of them and drag them away, they were so caught up in the fighting.
Some of the Forlish pursued them, but the elven archers were still out there and the bows sang once more, picking off men as they rushed forwards.
‘Back! Follow me!’ Gaibun waved them away. He glanced left and right to see fresh companies of Forlishmen hurrying around to catch him, shields in a tight wall, spears bristling out the front. If he had stayed more than a few heartbeats extra, they would have swooped around him and all the skill in the world would not have saved his warriors.
‘Faster! Don’t slow down! We can’t wait!’ he told the puffing members of his little band. All carried bloodstained swords, the evidence of their victories painted red across faces and hands. He could also see they had left a dozen behind and he hoped they had been killed quickly, for he dreaded to think what the Forlish would do to them if they were just wounded. Three more were stumbling along, being helped by friends and comrades, after being cut themselves.
‘Keep moving. If we stop, we die,’ he warned them but there were more than enough hands to help them.
The angry shouts of the Forlish were behind them, evidence they were being pursued, and he kept up the pace, heading south and then cutting back east in a wide loop that he hoped would again take them past the Forlish scouts. The real battle was still to come.
‘How could this happen? I thought we had a wide screen of scouts out?’ Edmund raged.
‘Half a mile ahead and a mile wide,’ the scout captain confirmed. ‘We saw and heard nothing.’
‘And how many dead for your mistake?’
‘A company was gutted. They will need to go back to the rear and plug holes elsewhere,’ someone replied.
Edmund took a deep breath. He was tempted to rage and shout but it had been his orders that sent the column marching fast, far faster than they usually advanced. And to expect the elves to let them walk into Dokuzen unopposed was foolish to the extreme.
‘Keep the scouts at the same distance. But I want another screen down our flanks, fifty yards from our main advance. This time it was just a probe but next time it might be a full-scale attack.’
Nervous officers breathed again, and nodded enthusiastically.
‘Get the men moving again. We have already lost more than a turn of the hourglass searching for the elves who ambushed us. And every time a bloody twig cracks, whole companies are dropping into shield walls and refusing to move until they are sure there is nothing there. We’re miles behind where we should be today. Tell your sergeants — keep the men moving. If we can’t get to Dokuzen before their army gets back home, we really will be dead.’
‘How are we going to find elves in these woods, on their own land?’ Harald protested when the orders came through.
‘We won’t. They find us. But our deaths will give others warning,’ Caelin said grimly.
‘Oh, well that’s all right then. I wouldn’t want to die pointlessly,’ Ruttyn snorted.
Asami was at a loss, waiting for word from Vales that Huw, Rhiannon and the dragons were ready to come through. Until she heard from them, she had nothing to do. For want of something better she wandered over to where Sumiko was directing the efforts of a small group of Magic-weavers.
‘Sensei, do you need my help?’ She bowed respectfully, ignoring the glares from Oroku and the other Magic-weavers.
‘Aren’t you to bring through our human allies?’ Sumiko asked.
‘Yes, but I wanted to help the other Magic-weavers. So far nobody wants to work with me,’ Asami said levelly.
Sumiko smiled briefly. ‘Well, you were the cause of them working in the mines and nearly being starved to death. You can hardly expect them to embrace you. But they will accept you again, as I do, once we have been hailed as heroes.’
Asami watched her return to the others and speak to Oroku and Jimai and shivered a little.
29
They even stole all the languages from the other human tribes, using magic so that everyone spoke the same words and there was no difference between the other humans. They plotted to rule the humans, who they called gaijin.
Sendatsu’s song
‘Do we have to stay with Grandmother?’ Mai grumbled.
‘She has missed you, and it will not be for long. Just a day or so — and I hope to be back this evening, to put you to bed,’ Sendatsu said gently.
‘That was what you said last time — and then you didn’t come back!’
‘This is different,’ Sendatsu insisted. ‘I will never leave you. Whatever happens, I shall come back for you.’
He looked into her eyes and she nodded slowly. ‘I know that but Cheijun won’t understand,’ she warned.
‘Well, I need you to keep him calm, to tell him I will be back. I have to go and fight the Forlish, to protect you all.’
‘I help!’ Cheijun announced, brandishing his toy sword.
‘We helped you train the Velsh,’ Mai reminded him. ‘And you told us how good we were!’
‘And you are. But I need to look after the Velsh, and I can’t do that and watch over you as well. I don’t want to do this but I have to, if we are going to live happily.’
‘That wasn’t what you said earlier. You said we would always be together and all the danger was over,’ she reminded him.
‘Yes, I did,’ he said. ‘But it just shows that I can be wrong sometimes.’
She patted his face. ‘I can forgive you. And I will look after Cheijun. But I cannot promise he will be good for Grandmother Noriko. He doesn’t like her stories.’
‘I’ll speak to her,’ Sendatsu promised. Holding Mai’s hand and with Cheijun in his arms, he walked across the city to his father’s villa. There were no guards on the front and he walked through to where his mother was supervising a pair of elderly gardeners.
‘Sendatsu! What are you doing here?’ she asked. ‘As you can see, I am still trying to clean up the mess left by your last visit. But my gardeners have gone off to fight the gaijin and those I have left are not up to the task.’
‘Mother.’ He bowed slightly. ‘I need you to look after Mai and Cheijun while I lead the Velsh against the gaijin horde approaching.’
Her mouth tightened. ‘I have heard from your father what you have done to make amends for your betrayal.’
‘Mother, I did not come here to fight with you. I have much to do if we are to save Dokuzen. Will you please look after Mai and Cheijun?’
‘Of course.’ She nodded. ‘Although I am not sure who I can find to cook for them. I might have to do it myself.’
Sendatsu kneeled and put his children down, along with the bag of toys he was carrying.
‘See if you can catch me a butterfly,’ he suggested and Mai took a reluctant Cheijun’s hand and they raced off through the garden.
‘They should be able to wreck most of the progress we have made by the time they leave,’ Noriko observed.
‘I hope to return for a turn or two of the hourglass this evening. But I cannot promise it. I do not yet know Father’s plan for defeating the Forlish.’
Noriko stepped closer and placed her hands on his shoulders.
‘My son, do you know what you are getting yourself into?’ she asked gently.
‘What do you mean?’ Sendatsu had grown used to not having much to do with his parents. Now both of them wanted to talk with him. It was a little disturbing.
‘You have never wan
ted to play a game of power, never wanted to risk everything on a single decision, the way your father does. Now I see you doing all sorts of things. You betray your father, then you rescue him and help him become Elder Elf —’
‘I do what I have to,’ Sendatsu said defensively.
‘I have often wondered if there was something I could have done differently,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘What do you mean?’ He turned from watching Mai chase Cheijun through the new flower beds, much to the consternation of the elderly gardeners.
‘I have never interfered with what your father wanted to do. He is the head of the household, as well as our clan, and I have always obeyed him. But you are my son, my only child, and I stood back as he tried to mould you into something you are not. I knew you would rebel against him. But perhaps, had I tried, he might have listened more.’
‘Why didn’t you try?’ Sendatsu blurted. ‘I would do anything for my children. I could never abandon them to Father’s training.’
Noriko said nothing for a long time and he wondered if he had gone too far.
‘We are from different generations. I was taught to obey my husband always —’
‘Mother, that is not true. It is the same today. But some, like Asami and even older elves like Sumiko, chose a different path!’
Noriko smiled wanly. ‘You are right. The truth is I am not brave enough to face Jaken. That is why I agreed to marry him, although I loved another, why I have tolerated the many mistresses he has had over the years and still enjoys. I am a wife to him in name only.’
A memory stirred in Sendatsu then, of when he and Gaibun had left Dokuzen.
‘You loved Lord Retsu,’ he said.
‘How … when did you …?’
Sendatsu took hold of his mother’s hand. ‘In the last moon only. And he felt the same about you?’
Noriko grimaced. ‘He is too honourable to say anything. When your father was disgraced and his death was a possibility, we began to talk again. But that cannot happen now. The Elder Elf can have lovers but his wife cannot.’
