by Duncan Lay
Caelin saw immediately they were in more trouble than usual. Marching straight at the arrows meant they could keep shields in front of them all the time. But marching around exposed their sides, even though the hill was to their left, to their shield side. If one man fell, he exposed two or three others. Gaps were appearing far faster than usual and were much harder to plug.
‘Keep going! Keep singing!’ Wulf roared.
Wounded men tried to catch up, still holding their shields, and got picked off by ruthless archers.
Still they marched. They were partway around the hill now, able to see Orsa and his men standing beside their horses, more than half a mile away. It might as well have been on the moon.
Caelin cursed as his shield was driven into his sore shoulder by the force of an arrow; he could not help but let it drop down. Another flew in and drove deep into Wulf’s chest, sinking through his mail as if it were the thinnest parchment. Wulf stumbled and Ruttyn reached for him, his shield lowering but the captain was struck again, this time in the back and he fell on his face.
Caelin, Ruttyn and Harald exchanged horrified looks.
‘Keep going! Keep singing!’ Caelin lifted his shield again.
They continued the anthem, as though shouting out the words might provide them with some form of protection. It did not. Men fell every moment, each one opening a gap for another arrow to strike home.
Caelin turned his head to urge the men onwards and was appalled at how many were down. Survivors clustered together, shields knocking — but the arrows were falling both low and high and they could not defend against both. The column stalled, like a wounded animal unable to drag itself any further, a bloody trail of broken and weeping men stretching out far behind it.
‘At least we’ll survive, eh?’ Harald shouted, then cried out as an arrow sank into his belly. He reeled backwards and fell, Ruttyn and Caelin dropping their shields to help him.
The rest of the men went to ground then, the singing cutting off.
‘Can’t hurt worse than your wife’s mother!’ Caelin told him encouragingly.
But all Harald could do was scream.
‘We’ll get you out of here,’ Caelin promised.
‘Captain!’ Ruttyn grabbed his arm and tugged him around.
Together the two of them watched another flight of arrows soar down.
Sendatsu forced himself to watch every step of the march, see the agony of every fallen man. The column was down to a ragged, crouching handful and obviously no threat. The arrows had stopped but that was no consolation. He tried to tell himself that it was necessary, that their sacrifice was going to end this battle and save lives, but it was hard to accept.
‘Our turn now!’ he shouted.
Edmund was just in front of him, a full company in front of them, and Rhiannon was to his left while Cedrik was to his right — his job was to stop Sumiko driving the horses away again. Meanwhile Huw was leading the rest of the Forlish, as well as the southerners and Velsh, further to the right, creating another distraction and hopefully forcing the elves to split their troops.
The cavalry began slowly, just walking, keeping pace with the infantry. But as they got closer, the trumpeter sounded a long note and they moved into a trot.
‘Stay close to me — and keep your shields ready. One arrow could end all our plans,’ Edmund growled.
The arrows were beginning to fall now but it was not a sheet of steel, more like isolated drops. Men and horses fell but only a handful.
‘This is the hardest stretch,’ Edmund said, as they trotted towards the mass of elves. ‘Everyone wants to charge, to get it over and done with, but we have to save the horses, only go to the gallop at the last moment.’
‘They’re trying to turn the horses!’ Cedrik cried.
‘Then stop them!’ Edmund shouted back.
A dozen horses at the front turned and galloped away, racing off to either side, the riders clinging on desperately, but the rest stayed on course, aiming for where the elves were clustered thickly. Huw’s advance had forced the elves to string their lines wide, to cover both threats, although they had dragged the bodies of the first attack across to form a bloody barrier, heedless of whether the men they dragged there were alive or dead. Some had also taken up fallen spears and sunk them into the ground.
Sendatsu looked at the wreckage of men and elves and cursed Sumiko for bringing them all to this. He looked at Rhiannon. ‘Let my voice be heard by them,’ he said.
She looked at him in surprise for a moment, then nodded.
‘We are coming for Sumiko! That is all! Let us through and this will all be over!’ Sendatsu shouted, his voice echoing across the hillside.
A screech of rage from Sumiko, swearing to have his head, came back.
‘Well, at least we know she heard it,’ Rhiannon said.
‘Now!’ Edmund roared, and the trumpeter sounded a long, clear note.
As if released, the riders clapped spurs to their mounts and raced at the elven lines. This was the moment when the arrows should start falling in earnest, killing men and horses and turning the charge into disaster. But rather than get worse, the arrows stopped.
‘They’re out! They are ours now!’ Edmund screamed, and his men answered with a snarl of hatred that rose to a shout.
Some horses split off, as the Magic-weavers tried again to turn aside the charge but more than enough remained. The leading riders gathered themselves and leaped at the barrier of dead men and broken spears, smashing it aside. A handful were spitted on the spears, others were dragged down as elves jumped up and cut at legs and horses’ faces, but most raced deep into the elven ranks. It was almost as if they were not truly fighting.
Sendatsu gathered himself and squeezed his horse’s flanks, feeling it leap over the low barrier, a spear brushing past his leg. Sendatsu followed Edmund, who was behind a tight group of riders who drove right through the elves. Edmund’s company charged up the hill, Sendatsu and Rhiannon at their heart.
Behind them, the infantry were racing forwards and the elves were backing away.
But Sendatsu only had eyes for what lay ahead, and the small group of elves clustered around Sumiko, standing in front of the female archers.
‘How dare they not fight! I will see them killed!’ Sumiko screamed.
‘We have enough problems to deal with,’ Oroku warned.
‘Get the archers to draw swords and finish these gaijin off, once I get their horses to run,’ Sumiko ordered.
‘They don’t have swords. They were only supposed to loose arrows,’ Mogosai said.
‘Tell them to run at the horsemen anyway — use their bare hands if they have to, to protect me.’
‘I will not ask them to do that.’ Mogosai drew himself up. ‘You will have to do it yourself.’
Sumiko stared at him coldly. ‘I shall remember that. I shall stop them, while you get me some warriors to kill these gaijin!’
Rhiannon felt the magic being released an instant before it hit, and instinctively covered Edmund, Sendatsu and herself. The rest of the company reared as one, sending riders flying in all directions, leaving just the three of them riding at three elves: a warrior and Oroku and Sumiko.
‘Face me!’ Rhiannon shouted, her voice sounding small to her own ears, no matter that it was booming across the hillside. ‘Face me and let’s end this!’
Behind Sumiko, most of the female archers were backing away, although some had drawn knives and were advancing to face the Forlish riders who had climbed back to their feet and found their swords — at least, those who weren’t crying at broken bones.
‘Stop!’ Sendatsu bellowed, holding his arms in the air, sword back in its scabbard. ‘This is a battle about who has magic. Let the Magic-weavers end this. Nobody else has to die!’
Rhiannon saw what he was doing and joined in. ‘Face me! Don’t try to hide behind these women. Or do you fear that human magic is stronger than yours?’
‘They are elves. And I fear nobody. You
have escaped me too many times. No longer!’ Sumiko shouted back, at a volume that even Orsa’s cavalry half a mile away could hear.
‘Watch Oroku. He will try to help her,’ Rhiannon told Sendatsu softly. ‘Look after Huw if anything … happens.’
‘You can do this. You were born to do this,’ Sendatsu told her.
She smiled wanly and swung down from her saddle, walking out to face Sumiko. She could feel the fear in her belly, in the way her hands were shaking and her legs wobbling. But she had dealt with nerves many times before — it was the life of a performer. She pasted a smile on her face and forced herself to stand tall and stride confidently. Inside, she was screaming but she grinned at Sumiko, hiding it all behind a mask.
‘Fall to your knees now. Promise to obey me always, destroy these filthy humans for me, bring me Sendatsu’s head and I shall let you live,’ Sumiko said softly.
‘We are all humans. There are no elves. Magic is for everyone and I will prove that!’ Rhiannon shouted, her voice echoing across the hillside. Dimly she was aware that the fighting at the base of the hill had petered out, that the people of Dokuzen, Forland, Vales, Breconia, Nevland, Landia and Balia were all watching what was happening.
She glanced at Sumiko and saw the Magic-weaver had noticed as well. Next moment, Rhiannon felt the whiplash of Sumiko’s magic, as the grass around her exploded into furious life. Rhiannon forgot her fears, forgot everything else as she slipped into the magic and sent the grass back.
She and Sumiko circled each other, everyone else standing well clear — and stepping back when Sumiko came close. Without so much as a gesture, Sumiko sent magic surging at Rhiannon again. Insects boiled out of the ground, birds swooped from the air and horses thundered at her, yellow teeth gnashing and hooves stamping. Each time Rhiannon banished them, keeping a light smile on her face, although she could feel the sweat now sticking her tunic to her back and it was a battle not to open her mouth and gasp in the air.
Sumiko seemed unruffled by her efforts and Rhiannon refused to give her any hint of how she was feeling.
The Magic-weaver snatched up handfuls of grass and flicked them at Rhiannon. Each one turned into a jagged weapon, strong as steel, which would have cut her to pieces, but she held up her hands and they fluttered to the ground.
‘Is that the best you have?’ Rhiannon sneered, her words echoing down the hillside.
Sumiko hissed with anger, her eyes glittering, and she clapped her hands together. That should have raised a puff of wind. Instead a gale blasted across the hillside, bending the grass over and sending a dozen of the Forlish standing behind Rhiannon tumbling to the ground. Rhiannon stood firm, her hair blowing out behind her, eyes slitted against the breeze, feeling it dry the sweat on her face. She reached into the ground, made it hold her firm until the wind dropped again.
Sumiko resumed walking, circling around to her left, and Rhiannon began to move as well, on guard for the next attack. Many of the Forlish were now shouting, and she realised hundreds, thousands, were chanting her name, screaming for her to kill the elf and win the battle for them. She saw how angry that made Sumiko and her smile was more than just a mask now.
She tried to think how she might attack Sumiko, how she would defeat her, how she would finish this. She had taken Sumiko’s attacks and dealt with them all and the Magic-weaver had to know that. She wondered if she might try to turn the grass on Sumiko — then felt her feet slipping. She glanced down to see the ground beneath her turning into mud, sucking her down, already up to her calves. She fought back instantly, bringing her legs out — but her feet were still trapped. Unlike every other time, the power coming from Sumiko seemed irresistible and she could sense the ground was sliding back up her ankles.
She glanced over, seeing the triumphant grin on Sumiko’s face and, behind, the mask of concentration on Oroku’s face. Rhiannon glanced around desperately, looking for Sendatsu — but he was already moving.
Sendatsu began the chant for Rhiannon, cheered as she defeated Sumiko’s attacks. The two sides had drifted up the hill, splitting apart as they came and forming semicircles behind each Magic-weaver. The elves and humans closest to each other glanced warily at their opponents but most only had eyes for what was going on inside the circle. Sendatsu kept his eyes on Sumiko. He wished he could have the chance to avenge his father, Gaibun and all the others she had killed, but he knew this was not his fight — he had no chance in that circle. He also knew she would have some plan in place, some thought of treachery. So when he saw her exchange nods with Oroku, he was already moving, racing around the circle to where Sumiko’s deputy added his power to hers, pouring it at Rhiannon.
The cheering was dying away as the watchers saw the ground slipping up to Rhiannon’s knees, saw the effort it was taking her to fight back — and how she could not stop its march.
Sendatsu’s sword whistled out of its scabbard and he prepared to take Oroku’s head off with a huge cartwheel strike — then his elbow locked and he was frozen, half a stride away, his sword just inches from Oroku.
‘I can do two things at once, Sendatsu,’ Oroku said, his voice strained yet triumphant.
Sendatsu could only move his eyes and glanced around to see a desperate Rhiannon slipping deeper. He strained with all his might but it was to no avail.
‘Sumiko did this to your father. Made him watch as all his dreams came crashing down. History repeats itself, eh, Sendatsu?’ Oroku said gloatingly. ‘After this we shall find Asami.’
Sendatsu threw everything he had at the power holding him, trying to break free, but it was useless. He watched as another figure stepped up to Oroku. Sendatsu was shocked to see it was Kayiko’s younger brother, Mogosai. What was he doing?
‘This is supposed to be a fair fight,’ the elven warrior said angrily.
‘Step back, Mogosai. This is not about fighting fair. It is about winning,’ Oroku snapped.
‘Wrong,’ Mogosai said, his own sword leaping into his hand.
Oroku reached backwards and Mogosai was instantly frozen, as well.
‘What is it with you warriors and your stupid honour?’ he sneered. Sendatsu could see he was stretched — sweat was running down his face, but all he had to do was hold on for a few more moments and Rhiannon was finished.
Then a stone struck Oroku on the nose, snapping his head back.
Sendatsu felt life return to his limbs as he saw Huw step forwards, another rock in his hand. He never got the chance to throw it. Sendatsu and Mogosai struck Oroku at the same time, Sendatsu going for the head, Mogosai the belly. The swords hit almost together, ripping Oroku into three parts, sending blood, brains and entrails spraying across the grass and each other.
Sendatsu looked at the equally blooded Mogosai, who bowed. Sendatsu bowed to him and, together with Huw, they turned back to where Rhiannon struggled with Sumiko.
It felt as though a huge weight was pressing down on Rhiannon as the hungry ground tried to swallow her up. She fought back grimly, refusing to panic, the lessons she had been given by Asami, the lessons she had given her own Magic-weavers, keeping her mind calm and focused. But she could feel herself going deeper and could not stop the thought that she would join her father underground.
Then the weight dropped away from her. She heard a scream but did not take her eyes off Sumiko, instead pushing herself up and out of the ground, standing again on her feet, earth flaking off her legs.
The cheers that had died away thundered again across the hillside.
‘Now it is just you and me,’ Rhiannon told Sumiko. ‘Your treachery is finished.’
‘It is you who are finished,’ Sumiko snarled back. ‘I fight to honour my father, to restore Magic-weavers to power. We were born to rule! I fight for my father’s memory, to show him I am worthy, but you murdered yours. You don’t deserve your power!’
Rhiannon felt hot, unstoppable anger surging through her despite all of her mental exercises, just the way it had when she had found her magic. ‘I fight for my
father’s memory too — to show him he was wrong, and a liar. I fight to stop all the lies and they will die with you!’ she screamed at Sumiko, then poured everything she had into the ground beneath Sumiko’s feet.
Her attack was so sudden, so powerful, that Sumiko was down to her knees before she could react. She fought back, and Rhiannon felt as though she was trying to squeeze a handful of water through a keyhole; try as she might, it was escaping from her. Her legs were aching, every muscle was screaming, while her breath came harsh and fast and the sweat was stinging her eyes. Everything told her to give up, to walk away, to let the magic go. The pain was overwhelming, not just the physical hurt but the mental struggle, the fear she could die here if she did not step back.
But she refused to give up. She had been through so much, felt so much pain. What her father had done to her had prepared her for this. The deep, dark well inside that he had left for her was overflowing and she took that and poured it all into the magic.
‘No! This is not possible! You are a human!’ Sumiko cried and Rhiannon gazed at her through tears to see the Magic-weaver was up to her shoulders.
‘You are human too! We are all human!’ Rhiannon screamed back, and drove Sumiko deep into the heart of the hill, sealing her away forever.
‘Father —’ Sumiko’s last despairing cry was choked off suddenly, replaced by a thunderous roar from thousands of human throats.
Rhiannon released the magic and staggered back, barely able to stay on her feet. Then she felt a strong arm around her and she opened her eyes to see not Sendatsu but a strange elf. Sendatsu arrived a moment later on the other side of her.
She tried to reach for magic but Sendatsu shook his head. ‘It is all right. You have done it,’ he whispered.
‘But who —’
‘He’s on our side,’ Sendatsu said.
‘You have won. We will lay down our arms!’ the other elf shouted. ‘Sumiko is dead, the lies are over. The fighting is over!’
Rhiannon looked at him in surprise, then her eyes rolled back and everything went dark.
