by Duncan Lay
‘On your feet! Everyone is to go forwards this time! We won’t stop until every one of those pointy-eared bastards is choking on their blood!’ a captain shouted, pushing the scouts up.
‘But, sir, we stood guard all night. We were told we would not fight today —’ Caelin began.
‘Everybody fights now. If we don’t get through this time, then we’re all dead men. On your feet and into line!’
Caelin found himself in the fourth rank, Ruttyn and Harald to either side.
‘Stick with us, sarge, we might get lost when out scouting but we know about this sort of fighting,’ Ruttyn said.
‘Fourth line? Surely we are safe enough here?’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ Harald said.
Priests were healing as many as they could, although any of Gaibun’s warriors that had fallen had been hacked to pieces. Only those who had stayed on their feet had stayed alive.
‘Are you hurt, my son?’ one asked Gaibun, as he drank water.
‘Think I have broken ribs,’ he said, grimacing.
The priest took his hand, stained with blood and brains, and closed his eyes, muttering a prayer of healing. Gaibun felt his ribs grow warm, then relaxed as the pain slipped away.
‘Thank you, Father.’ He bowed his head.
‘Gaibun! Lord Jaken approaches!’
The shout made him turn and he picked up his helmet, sighing with relief that there was not agony with every movement, then went to see what was happening.
‘They’re going to attack with everything they have this time,’ Jaken predicted. ‘But if we can hold them off then they will doubt, they will wait and Retsu will be here with thousands more warriors. So we cannot hold back anything. We must use all the magic we have, every arrow, every man and every elf.’
‘But what about Retsu —’ Sumiko began.
‘If we do not hold back this attack, he will arrive to find Dokuzen aflame and the rest of us dead,’ Jaken said bluntly. ‘The people will be told who saved them, how the Magic-weavers proved the difference and how the Velsh came in our time of need. But we have to be here for that to happen.’
‘We shall need magic to help us,’ Gaibun said. ‘They would have been through us if the Magic-weavers had not sent the other attack backwards.’
‘No thought to boast of your abilities?’ Sendatsu asked.
Gaibun shrugged. ‘All saw how well my warriors fought. But there are not enough of us. It is too important to risk losing the battle for foolish pride.’
‘Well said,’ Jaken agreed. ‘Sumiko, who can you send over?’
‘Oroku and four others are all I can spare,’ she said.
‘Then that will have to do. I shall also stand with you.’
‘Father —’ Sendatsu began, while the archbishop and others also looked ready to protest.
‘The Elder Elf is not too important to fight. Besides, my blade is worth at least three others, as the Forlish shall find out. And that will be the end of it.’
The blare of Forlish horns ended any more discussion.
‘Go, all of you. And may Aroaril be with us,’ Jaken said.
‘Wait until the Forlish are close before you use magic on them. We need to disrupt their lines and that’s the best weapon we have,’ Sendatsu said.
‘What should we do?’ Rhiannon asked.
‘Well, we have plenty of old stone left here, including some large pillars,’ Asami said.
‘Leave nothing back. We must do whatever we can to stop this attack,’ Sendatsu insisted.
‘Sir, does that mean I can fight?’ Gareth, who had been at Sendatsu’s back during the first attack, asked eagerly.
‘I think everyone will need to fight this time.’ Rhiannon pointed towards the trees.
This time the Forlish did not wait but advanced steadily, banging their swords and spears on their shields, a steady, loud noise that grew deafening as more and more lines of Forlish emerged from the trees. This shield wall was twice the size of the first one, five hundred shields long and twelve ranks deep, a mass of men that trampled everything underfoot and advanced implacably, most of them fresh, compared to the Velsh and elves, who had already exhausted themselves.
The end of the shield wall matched up with the end of the stone wall, stretching across to outside of the last of the timber stakes protecting Gaibun’s warriors.
‘Arrows!’ Sendatsu signalled, a gesture repeated a moment later by Gaibun and Jaken.
‘They’re going to hold us then try to loop around our flank and finish us off that way,’ Jaken decided, staring at the Forlish formation. ‘Oroku, I’ll need you to seal that off for us. Gaibun, warn the archers to protect that side as well.’
He watched as the archers began loosing.
‘Order half the archers helping Sumiko to come over here. We shall need them more,’ he said, watching the Forlish end their noise, stop banging sword on shield and hunch down and put shields up.
‘And the Magic-weavers?’
‘Look, they are not seriously threatening them, just trying to hold them in place.’ Jaken pointed to where a light line, no more than one hundred men, advanced loosely at Sumiko, watching the trees nervously.
Gaibun raced off, allowing Jaken to watch the Forlish advance. They were packed tight together, which made them impossible to miss, but their armour made them difficult to hit. Arrows struck shields or helms and, while gaps appeared all the time, they were quickly filled. It was obvious they were not going to be stopped by arrows alone.
‘Time for magic yet?’ Rhiannon asked nervously as the Forlish marched closer.
‘Wait,’ Asami said. ‘When we do this, we work together, so none can see you are performing magic.’
Sendatsu could feel every arrow now as he drew and loosed. Even though the distance was down to less than fifty yards, he still needed to pull the arrow all the way back to his ear to give it the power to punch through the chainmail. Each time was harder and harder and only the brutal lessons in his father’s garden, with Jaken standing over him, prepared to thrash him with a bowcord if he faltered, kept him going. Each draw of the longbow was the equivalent of lifting Asami over his head and it hurt.
Behind him, the elven archers were dropping like flies, muscles tearing or simply giving up as they found themselves physically unable to bend a bow one more time. Perhaps half were down, while the others had slowed considerably, having to work themselves up to draw back the cruel bowcord one more time.
But it was hurting the Forlish. The never-ending stream of arrows was nibbling holes in their long lines, men falling as they were struck. Sendatsu ignored the discomfort and looked for a target. The closer they came, the easier it was to pick your spot. To his left an anxious face looked up from between shields and his arm twitched, changing his aim so the arrow leaped across and vanished into an open mouth. A stumble to his right exposed an arm, so he flicked back that way and put a shaft through an elbow, which would never wield a sword again. He forced the pain of drawing the big bow to the back of his mind and hauled on the cord again, taking up the strain.
‘Crossbows!’ Huw bellowed and Sendatsu was about to order them to wait when he realised the Forlish were preparing to jump into the stream one more time.
The cloud of crossbow bolts enveloped the Forlish, looking more impressive than the arrows but doing less damage.
‘Get ready!’ Sendatsu loosed one last arrow and then laid down his bow and drew his sword, stretching sore muscles in his back and shoulders.
The Forlish let out a roar and charged — and then the magic hit them.
Part of the wall was one of the big columns that had fallen when the tombs of the forefathers had burned. Asami and Rhiannon stood behind this and now reached into the magic, making it roll forwards. It hit the edge of the stream bank and took off, soaring at the Forlish.
Horrified soldiers looked up from behind their shields to see tonnes of stone flying at them. They were packed so tightly they could not get out of the way. S
ome tried, pushing to the sides, others attempted to jump over or dive under the pillar but it crushed and smashed its way through those unable to get out of the way. A wide hole was punched through the line and the whole Forlish advance paused at the impact.
The crossbows concentrated on the gap and for a few moments it seemed like the sheer number of vicious little bolts would stop the Forlish line sewing itself back together. But they pushed in from the back and sealed the gap finally, forced to step over the bodies of the dead and wounded.
Asami and Rhiannon used the time well, moving down to where a pile of rubble waited. These stones had broken when the tombs fell and ranged from the size of a man’s fist to the size of a man’s head. Standing over the pile were Cadel and a squad of dragons.
‘Pick them up and throw them,’ Asami ordered.
‘But they are too heavy,’ Cadel said.
‘We wouldn’t tell you to if that was the case,’ Rhiannon said impatiently.
Cadel picked up a foot-sized stone and gasped in surprise. ‘It weighs nothing at all!’ he exclaimed.
‘To you. But when it lands on the Forlish it will be a different story,’ Asami said.
The Velsh grabbed and threw the rocks high, laughing as even something as big as their head seemed to weigh no more than a pebble. But as they crashed down among the Forlish, crushing arms and shoulders and heads, the stones returned to their proper weight.
While Asami kept them going, Rhiannon turned her attention to a pile of weapons collected from the first Forlish attack. Sending swords and even broken spears raining down on the Forlish carved new holes in their lines and slowed them still further.
But that was just a distraction and next moment, the Velsh were fighting again with the Forlish all along the length of the wall.
Caelin marched towards the elves, keeping his shield high as arrows dropped down with every heartbeat.
‘Close! Keep the shields close!’ other sergeants yelled every time there was a scream and someone went down — which was often.
Caelin, Ruttyn and Harald kept knocking their shields together, the solid sound a reassuring noise. An arrow sank into Caelin’s shield and he grunted with the force of the impact, which drove him almost to his knees.
‘Close up!’
Caelin knew he should be calling something similar but he did not know enough about shield wall fighting, so he kept silent, for fear of saying something wrong.
Every few paces they had to step over a body, or worse, a man thrashing and writhing as his blood poured out from an arrow wound.
Then, blessedly, the arrows slowed down.
‘First three ranks forwards! Next three wait for my command!’ an officer roared.
Caelin and the rest of the fourth rank lined the stream bank, shields high, watching with a mixture of defiance and fear as the front three ranks splashed through the muddy, bloody water towards the waiting elves.
Jaken was proved correct when several hundred Forlish swung out to his right, looking to loop around his open flank and then roll up the defensive line that way.
But he was ready. Nearly three hundred archers drew and loosed, knocking down the Forlish with a steady stream of shafts. Then the grass and bushes around the side grew impossibly tall, forming an instant barrier.
The Forlish fell back immediately, fearing the same fate that had befallen their comrades at the hands of the Magic-weavers earlier and Jaken was able to turn to the danger to his front.
The Forlish jumped into the stream again, heedless of the bodies, blood and screaming wounded left there by the previous attack.
‘Ready to send them back to the pits from where they came?’ Jaken asked Gaibun.
‘I shall be right behind you, lord,’ Gaibun said.
Jaken pulled on his blue helm and drew his sword.
‘For Dokuzen!’ he bellowed, and led the charge forwards, meeting the first of the Forlish as they clambered out of the stream.
Worries about saving the city, Retsu arriving in time, what was happening elsewhere and even Sumiko, all vanished as he carved his way through the Forlish, Gaibun at his side. The two of them were like engines of destruction — no Forlishman could face them.
Jaken rejoiced with every blow, enjoying even the human blood spraying across his face and fine armour. This was why he had trained so hard for so many years. The gaijin horde was at the gates of Dokuzen and he was the warrior to stop them.
Humans thrust swords or spears at him and it was child’s play to flick them aside or slide past them, then flick his sword out to skewer chests, open throats and take heads. The Forlish shields were a problem but he was faster than these humans, who were half his age but lacked his speed, skill and strength.
Gaibun marvelled at the way Jaken moved. He made the Forlish look foolish and clumsy as they tried to match him. Nothing was wasted, every movement led to another stroke, zigzag flowing to cartwheel, dragon-tail to tiger-claw, leaving behind a trail of dead and maimed humans.
Dismayed, the Forlish fell back and Jaken stood his ground, blood soaking his blue armour, dripping from his blade, painting his face.
‘You were magnificent, lord!’
‘Now I shall leave it to you and check elsewhere,’ Jaken said and Gaibun glanced at him, seeing him trying to hide the fact he was breathing heavily and sweating.
Abruptly Jaken snapped his blade back into its sheath and stalked back slowly, stepping over the moaning, flopping bodies of the men he had felled.
Gaibun beckoned to the Forlish, who surged forwards again, only to be met by flashing swords.
Once again the stone wall proved its worth to the Velsh. The Forlish seemed content to thrust spears across the wall, rather than surge over it.
Anywhere they tried to gain a purchase, they were counter-attacked furiously. Bowen, Cadel, Tadd and Sendatsu all led small groups, who raced to any weak point and threw themselves at the press of fighting Forlish. The Velsh line bent but it did not break.
For a while Sendatsu dared to hope but then the numbers of Forlish built up. The ones at the back pushed the front ranks on and they used the bodies of the fallen as a step to clamber onto the wall.
Where Asami and Rhiannon met them. The rocks and scavenged weapons all used up, they stalked behind the Velsh line instead. The idea had been for the two of them to stay together but this was no time to be prudent. This was a time to do anything necessary to keep the Forlish back.
Asami raced to where one Forlishman had jumped over the wall, created enough space for two more to follow and now those three threatened to let more through. Velsh dragons desperately tried to close the gap but the Forlish had linked shields, while more of them scrambled onto the low wall and were about to fling themselves into the battle. To their right, Tadd and his group were sealing off another such attack and there were no reserves to stop the Forlish.
But Asami did not need them. She reached into the magic and lifted the thick stones of the wall, sending the Forlish climbing across them flying back into the massed attack. The three Forlish who had broken through heard the screams and instinctively turned, opened their defences for a few moments, long enough for Velsh swords to cut them down. Asami felt her vision swim and gulped down honeyed water, following it up with fruit, until everything steadied and she could feel the strength back in her legs. Then she ran off to the next crisis.
This time she sent a broken hunk of pillar bouncing over the Velsh, then made it scrape across the top of the wall, smearing the Forlish off as blood and bone, then crushing those behind.
‘On your left!’
A warning shout made her turn to see two Forlish crash past a Velshman and race at her, swords high above their heads and lips drawn back to reveal snarling teeth. A quick glance told Asami there was nothing to use for magic but that was not her only defence. She unsheathed her blade in an instant and darted forwards. Using muscle instead of magic was almost a relief and she locked her elbow and wrist, driving her blade through the first man’s
throat before he could bring his sword down, then she ripped the sword clear and went down on one knee, ducking under a wild cut and thrusting up into the second man’s groin, going underneath and inside his mail shirt.
The man’s high-pitched shriek echoed across the battle, cutting through the shouting and the noise of steel of wood, steel on steel and steel in flesh. The Forlishman drew in a shuddering breath to give voice to his agony once more as Asami ripped her blade free in a spray of blood and then cut down to end his howling.
She wiped blood off her face with her sleeve and looked for the next target.
Rhiannon watched Sendatsu carve a bloody path through the Forlish, while behind him Huw triggered crossbow bolts into Forlish faces and eyes.
But the Forlish pressure was non-stop and they could not be everywhere. The Velsh line gave way for a moment, Forlish flooding through, and she was the fastest to react. She reached into the magic and heated the armour they wore, making it blisteringly hot. Men dropped swords and shields, screaming, trying to rip off their chainmail shirts as the metal burned through the leather backing and into flesh beyond. In an instant the attack was stopped, other Forlish falling back in fear and dread at the sight, many of them clutching at their own armour, ready to rip it off.
Bowen and his group finished off the screaming Forlish for nobody could stand to hear their cries.
Rhiannon shuddered as their noise ended, tried not to look at the bodies and moved away so she could pretend the burning smell was not her work. I will not do that again, she vowed. Not unless I really have to. Then she pointed and sent another group writhing and screaming, thrashing around on top of the wall, unable to do anything other than yammer their pain. The Velsh left them there, for they were a more effective barrier than the stone; no Forlish wanted to go near them, for fear of suffering the same fate.
Sendatsu, finishing off another Forlish breach, saw a gap appear to his right. A glance told him there were no reserves, while Rhiannon was too far away. In desperation — and shame — he pointed to Gareth, waiting a dozen paces behind the line, as he had done the whole time.
