by Duncan Lay
And, barely a turn of the hourglass later, it seemed that Huw was right. The headmen had been relieved to hear the Forlish were defeated and running for home but aghast to learn that their promised of elven magic and help had turned to nothing, they had lost more than two hundred dragons — and now the elves saw them as a threat.
Griff was the first to say what many were thinking. ‘If they wanted Rhiannon as the price of an alliance, then what is she still doing here?’
‘We will never give up Rhiannon. She is the first human to do magic in three hundred years and the hope for us all.’ Huw showed fire for the first time since he had told them how the Dokuzen expedition had gone so wrong.
‘But she’s Forlish. And with the elves on our side, we would have all the magic we wanted.’
‘We would have only the magic they were prepared to give us. Nothing more. And they still think of themselves as elves. They refuse to accept they are Elfarans and just the same as we are.’
‘So why did we go to help them in the first place? You were the one who said this would secure our future. All you have managed to do is anger the Forlish and make enemies of the elves, Elfarans, whatever they are.’ Griff looked around the room, emboldened by the nods of agreement he was getting.
‘That is true,’ Huw said. ‘But it is even more reason to keep Rhiannon close. She is our best — indeed our only — hope.’
‘But why should we keep you as our leader? We listened to you and it has got us nowhere. When all’s said and done, you are nothing but a lad,’ Griff declared.
Huw raised his hands. ‘If anyone thinks he can do a better job, he is welcome to step forwards, and then those here can vote for who they want.’ He knew Rhiannon, Cadel, Bowen, all the dragons, wanted him to continue but his heart was no longer in it. He was happy to see someone else take up the responsibility.
‘No!’ Rhiannon cried. ‘I will not stay if you get rid of Huw!’
‘That might be a way out for all of us. If you make me leader, I will negotiate with the elves, do a deal with them using Rhiannon,’ Griff announced.
Huw’s head snapped up and his despair melted away in his anger. ‘She saved us! And you would throw her to the elves?’
‘I would do what’s best for Vales,’ Griff replied. ‘You are willing to do anything that gets her into bed with you, no matter the cost to the rest of us.’
Huw stared around the table. ‘This is unworthy of a Velshman,’ he said slowly. ‘And I will not allow this to happen. I got us into this mess, I shall get us out.’
‘If you are no longer leader, then you will be doing nothing.’
‘Then let us vote — and see what happens,’ Huw challenged. ‘I know no true Velshman would sacrifice a woman to save themselves.’
Again he looked around the table and, this time, was horrified to see only a handful of headmen were willing to meet his gaze.
‘Time to take a vote,’ Griff announced. ‘All with me, come over here.’
‘Wait!’ Cadel cried and all turned to see him, Bowen and another dozen dragons walk in, all looking tired but, equally, like the grim-faced warriors they were now. ‘We shall not serve anyone but Huw!’
Griff surged to his feet. ‘You are sons of Vales and will do what this council tells you to!’
‘Hold!’ Llewellyn clambered onto the table just as another dozen headmen jumped to their feet to add their voices to the argument. He stared around coldly. ‘I say we need to cool our heads for a day, think about what we are about to do. All we shall do today is argue. We need to think, then come back tomorrow and vote then.’
‘You just want to give your friend time to wriggle out of this!’ Griff accused.
‘Wrong. I want to preserve Vales. We have created something special here. I would not throw that away in the heat of the moment.’
Griff looked around the table but, this time, few would meet his eye.
‘All agreed raise your hand!’ Huw called.
A forest of hands went up and Huw smiled coldly at Griff. ‘Then we shall consider things tonight and vote tomorrow.’
‘You only put things off for a little while,’ Griff warned as he stalked out.
‘He is right,’ Rhiannon murmured.
‘Then so be it. But while I am leader, we shall send the healthy dragons out to search for people who dreamed of flying with dragons.’
‘Would it not be better to keep them here, to win you support?’
‘Vales comes before me,’ Huw said. ‘But one thing is certain, I will not let them take you. I must talk to Cadel and Bowen.’
‘He needs to speak to the other headmen, explain what happened and win them over. The dragons are already behind him,’ Kelyn told Rhiannon.
‘That is why he should be leader. He thinks of Vales before himself,’ Rhiannon replied.
‘Look, do you want to leave tonight, get clear in case Griff does become leader?’
Rhiannon shook her head. ‘My powers are too great for Griff and his allies. But we have to stop Griff from taking power. Huw has to lead the Velsh, magic has to be restored to the human lands and the elves broken. I will do it but I need Huw’s help.’
‘One battle at a time, eh?’ Kelyn suggested.
40
No matter what happens to us, we must spread this news across the lands, so all humans know the truth. We have magic, and the Elfarans are just the same as us. If we all know what really happened, they cannot go back to how it was. We shall be free.
Huw’s song
‘Have we made the right choice?’ Asami asked. ‘Maybe Sendatsu was right and we should go out and help the humans.’
Gaibun gasped. ‘What? We should leave Dokuzen as well, go and live among the humans? Are you serious?’
‘But did you not feel anything when you escorted Huw and Rhiannon out of Dokuzen? What about those dragons? You helped train them, you fought alongside them! They saved Dokuzen, no matter how Sumiko tries to pretend otherwise.’
‘They are not like us.’
‘Not true and you know it!’
‘You know what I mean. This is a new beginning for Dokuzen. Do you really want to miss that? Do you want to live in a muddy hut?’
‘They don’t have to live like that. They do so because of us.’
‘So they say. A convenient excuse. They have had three hundred years to learn better ways of doing things. That they have not found any tells me all I need to know.’
‘And Dokuzen? Have we changed over the last three hundred years? Has anything changed and improved for us?’
‘That is completely different!’
Asami shook her head. ‘How can you not see they are one and the same?’
‘Fine! Shall we pack now? Go and grub a living out there, when we could enjoy all we have fought and risked for here?’
‘No.’
‘Then why are we having this conversation?’
‘Because Sendatsu has left — and because I am pregnant with your child.’
Gaibun stared at her for a long moment before letting out a whoop of pure joy, grabbing her hands and then picking her up in the air.
‘We must tell our parents, tell everyone — it will be a boy, I can see him now …’ He could not stop talking.
As for Asami, she could not feel anything.
The Forlish army had made it back across the border, leaving a trail of dead men behind it as soldiers succumbed to their wounds. Ward had sent the first of his Landish-trained healers north to help and ordered both Edmund’s battered force and Wulf’s returned cavalry to stay close to the border.
‘Wulf can be trusted to keep an eye on things, while I train you,’ Ward told Edmund.
The heir apparent found it hard to know what to say. He could feel the hatred of the nobles, and especially the two princes. It was a hidden hatred, locked behind a wall, but no less deadly for that. They bowed and smiled when he and Ward went by but he could feel it radiating out from behind their eyes.
‘As long
as they fear you more than they hate you, you will be safe,’ Ward told him. ‘As soon as I am dead, you must seize my wife and sons and have them put to death publicly, in the bloodiest manner you can imagine. I would imagine a flogging and then impaling but it is up to you.’
‘Sire, I could not — your wife and sons!’
‘Ruthless!’ Ward barked, glaring into Edmund’s eyes. ‘You must be prepared to do anything and the people must know that. Terrify them and they will obey you forever more. Let my two foolish sons live and my wife will have a revolt going before next midsummer. Show everyone that you are to be feared and none will dare speak a word against you.’
‘But, sire —’
‘We are like the wolf pack. Only the strong can rule. You have to prove you have the biggest teeth before they respect you. The people want to see strength, not kindness. You can show mercy now and again, to keep them off balance, but you can never show weakness.’
Edmund bowed his head. He did not want this. That march through the elven forest, feeling as if the whole of Forland rested on his shoulders had shown him that. But he had sworn an oath to king and country and he had come to accept this was the only way to protect Forland. Wilfrid or Uffa could not take the crown — they had no idea of how to fight the elves. They would merely get thousands of men killed. Edmund had always done what was needed for victory in war. This was no different.
‘I will do what needs to be done,’ Edmund said hoarsely, lifting his head again.
‘Good!’ Ward patted him on the shoulder, then slumped back into his chair.
‘Did you want to rest, sire?’ Edmund asked, looking worriedly at Ward’s pallid face. The flesh had melted off him in the past quarter-moon, although his eyes had lost none of their fire.
‘I will have more than enough time to rest. Until then, I shall work. Now, let us talk about dealing with the nobles again —’
‘Sire!’
They spun, to see a pair of worried-looking guards escorting a frantic court official.
‘What is it?’ Ward asked ominously.
‘Sire, I know you do not want to be disturbed, b-but this …’
‘Spit it out, man!’
‘Sire, there are elves here!’
‘Elves?’ Edmund jumped to his feet, hand going for his sword. ‘How many? How did they get past our army at the border?’
‘Sire, they want to talk to you! There is only a handful of them and they promise they come in peace!’
Ward and Edmund exchanged glances.
‘Bring them in. We need to hear what they are saying,’ Ward said immediately.
‘But I want a company of crossbowmen in the gallery. If one of them so much as blinks too hard, fill them full of bolts,’ Edmund added.
Ward nodded approvingly. ‘Good. You are learning.’
He made the elves wait while he prepared for them.
‘They cannot see that I am weak,’ he said grimly. ‘I do not know why they are here but I know it will be for their benefit, not Forland’s.’
A magnificent helm with sweeping engraved cheekpieces was selected.
‘They will see my eyes and little else,’ Ward decided. His stewards dressed him in mail and then helped him onto the throne, while others had ensured the throne room was filled with both nobles and a company of guards dressed not in mail but in fine clothes, with swords hidden under cloaks and the like, and another company of guards was arrayed ostentatiously around the top gallery, crossbows trained downwards.
Ward inspected the throne room and nodded. ‘Show them in,’ he ordered, snapping shut the cheekpieces of his helm.
Trumpets blared and the doors were swung open to reveal a small party of elves.
Ward looked hard at the group, which walked forwards as if it owned the room. He could hear the mutters and whispers as they strode arrogantly down the length of the throne room. He was not overly moved. They were dressed impressively enough, their armour brightly coloured and elaborate, their helms a strange mixture of horns and fans that seemed to be more ceremonial than functional. But not all wore armour. One of them, a female, wore long red flowing robes, made of some strange, glossy material, while an older male also wore robes of a golden colour, with a strange, tall hat. He held a long staff.
The group of elves looked neither left nor right, just followed the female. On they marched, until they were at the foot of the stairs leading to Ward’s throne. Ward examined the female. Her face was strong, her hair tied back harshly. Once she had been beautiful, now she was striking — and she exuded power.
‘Greetings from Dokuzen to King Ward of Forland,’ she said, her voice loud in the silent room. ‘I am Kaneoki Yonetsu Sumiko, emissary of the ruler of Dokuzen.’
Ward exchanged a meaningful glance with Edmund. He felt his heart beating faster. The next few moments could decide the fate of Dokuzen.
‘Greetings, elf. Why are you here and what do you want?’
Sumiko smiled up at the Forlish king. She had been prepared for anything but now it seemed he would talk rather than fight, she let go of the magic she had gathered. He was taking the bait. ‘Less than a moon ago, you attempted to invade Dokuzen. You burned through the barrier surrounding our city and sent armies in to attack us. You learned the power of the elves and left thousands of your soldiers dead and dying on our land. If we wanted, we could march down here and destroy this castle and wipe Forland from the map and the pages of history.’ She paused and looked around the room. ‘I say these things only to convince you of our serious intent. We are here not to destroy you but to offer you everything you wanted.’
Even behind his helmet, she could see him react. ‘What?’
Sumiko smiled. ‘What I have to say is not for any ears but yours.’
Ward flipped open the cheekpieces on his helm.
‘So tell me,’ he said, leaning forwards.
Sumiko walked up the stairs to the throne, smiling a little at the way the crossbows followed her every move. She could destroy them all but was happy to leave them their little illusion of safety. Up close, the Forlish king looked like flesh stretched over a skeleton, his eyes burning with impatience. Perfect.
She leaned forwards, until her mouth was near his ear.
‘I can get you into Dokuzen, so you can take its wisdom and treasures,’ she whispered seductively.
The story continues in
WALL OF SPEARS
EMPIRE OF BONES, BOOK THREE
Author’s Note
Many of the place names in the Empire of Bones series are real names, to be found in the pages of history or even on today’s maps. However, the fictional towns and villages named in this series bear no relation to their real counterparts.
There are also several historical hints and notes, from the Chinese repeating crossbow to the Welsh flag and anthem. Again, there is no intention to make this, or them, real.
This is not only a work of fiction, it is a work of fantasy.
Acknowledgements
A book does not end up on the shelves without a great deal of work by a great many people. I need to thank my beta reader Belinda Lay, agent Sophie Hamley, publisher Deonie Fiford, editor Kate Burnitt, copy-editor Kylie Mason, proofreader Annabel Adair and designer Darren Holt. Without their help, advice and eagle eyes, Valley of Shields would not be the same book. My name is on the cover yet they all helped to make it better and stronger, as well as hide flaws, correct mistakes and eliminate my talent for repeating key words and phrases.
About the Author
An interview with legendary American fantasy writer Raymond E Feist inspired Duncan Lay to try his hand at fantasy writing. He writes on the train, while commuting from his Central Coast home to his other job as Masthead Chief of The Sunday Telegraph. This is his second fantasy trilogy.
Connect with Duncan Lay at:
duncanlay.blogspot.com
facebook.com/duncan.lay
Twitter @DuncanLay
Books by Duncan Lay
THE DRAG
ON SWORD HISTORIES
The Wounded Guardian (1)
The Risen Queen (2)
The Radiant Child (3)
EMPIRE OF BONES
Bridge of Swords (1)
Valley of Shields (2)
Copyright
HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
First published in Australia in 2013
This edition published in 2013
by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
ABN 36 009 913 517
www.harpercollins.com.au
Copyright © Duncan Lay 2013
The right of Duncan Lay to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
HarperCollinsPublishers
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National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Lay, Duncan.
Valley of shields / Duncan Lay.
ISBN 978 0 7322 9419 9 (pbk).
ISBN: 978 0 7304 9698 4 (epub)
Lay, Duncan. Empire of bones; 2.
Fantasy fiction.
A823.4
Cover design by Darren Holt, HarperCollins Design Studio
Cover images by shutterstock.com
Map by Darren Holt, HarperCollins Design Studio
