Bridge of Swords (27 page)

‘They were waiting for us. Down the trail was the only way out of the trap,’ Sendatsu said shakily.

‘Huw, you need to thank Sendatsu. He rode after you and picked off those three Forlishmen with arrows from the saddle before killing the last with his sword. I can barely believe I saw it!’ Rhiannon exclaimed.

Sendatsu closed his mouth. She must have been facing the wrong way, or imagined seeing him draw his bow … thank Aroaril he did not have to explain what had happened with the three elven archers in the undergrowth — for he had no idea what he would have said.

Huw turned to the elf. ‘I know. You did not need to risk your life for me. After our arguments, I do not know I could have done the same, were our positions reversed.’

‘Thank Aroaril for that — I don’t think I’d like to see you fight four Forlish warriors.’ Sendatsu tried to smile.

‘Seriously — why? You are always going on about this mission of yours, how you have to get back to Dokuzen …’

Sendatsu shrugged. ‘I could not live with myself if I let you ride to your death.’

‘Then I thank you. Those Forlish would have killed us without a second thought or worse, taken us back to Ward,’ Huw said fervently.

‘That is worse than death?’ Sendatsu really smiled at that.

‘Ward would make us beg for death — and he would make sure he wrung every drop of information out of us, so he could smash my people and destroy Vales,’ Huw said soberly.

‘What he has planned for me is little better,’ Rhiannon said with a shudder. ‘You saved us, Sendatsu! They were all around — I saw you fighting them off when you went to get Huw’s crossbow.’

Sendatsu reached for the crossbow, using it to hide his relief. He had been unbelievably lucky. Hanto must have warned them about the trap, then turned his bows on the Forlish when it seemed as if Sendatsu was to be killed … that meant his father wanted him back alive. He wondered if he should lie in wait for them. He could kill Hanto easily enough and then get information out of his companions …

‘What is it?’ Rhiannon asked.

Sendatsu handed the crossbow back to Huw. ‘Nothing.’ He smiled. ‘Just reliving that ambush.’ He could kill Hanto but the other two would have their orders to stop him. If one of them put an arrow into him — it was too risky, he decided.

They rode on together, much more warmly this time. Once a good three miles from the woods, with no sight of any pursuit, Sendatsu found them a spot on a small hill, which gave them a good view of the way they had come, and stopped for a break.

Huw made a point of shaking Sendatsu’s hand.

‘I have sung enough sagas about heroes to know one when I see him in action,’ he said.

‘I am no hero — I don’t want to be.’ Sendatsu shrugged. ‘I’m just doing what I have to.’

‘Well, it was enough to save me!’

The bard wandered off to grab some firewood, leaving Sendatsu to hope he might get the bard’s help in speaking to the Velsh at the next village, and beyond. When he had not really done anything to earn the bard’s gratitude, this was fortunate indeed.

Sendatsu joined Rhiannon, who was brushing down the sweating horses. As soon as they were hidden by the horses, she embraced him.

‘Thank you for saving us, and risking your life. I shall not forget it.’ She reached up and kissed him.

Sendatsu stood there awkwardly. He did not want to do more harm, or leave her with even more of a broken heart, but she was warm and lithe against him and other parts of him were saying something different …

‘I think Huw’s returning,’ he forced himself to say, then returned her kiss before they broke apart.

No sense in telling her the truth too early, he decided. He might need to use her against Huw, if the bard still insisted on keeping him away from the Velsh. The way her trews sat tight around her legs had nothing at all to do with it …

The narrowness of their escape left him both a little shaky and feeling elated — it had affected them all the same way. He found himself needing to laugh as they ate and drank.

‘What’s the next village?’ Sendatsu asked.

‘Catsfield,’ Huw replied, breaking apart an oatcake.

‘Sounds like a good name,’ Sendatsu commented. ‘Do they farm them, or eat them?’

The two humans looked at him.

‘Are you serious?’ Rhiannon gasped.

‘Sure.’ Sendatsu winked at Huw, unseen by her. ‘Cat is a great elven delicacy. You can expect to be served fresh cat in Dokuzen every day. Isn’t that right, Huw?’

‘Well, it is mentioned in the sagas, many times,’ Huw agreed, fighting to keep a straight face.

Rhiannon stared at them with such a look of horror that they could not keep up the pretence any longer and Sendatsu rolled around in hilarity, while Huw burst out in laughter as well.

Rhiannon glared at them for a few moments, then dissolved into giggles herself.

The reaction to their escape bubbled out and they all found themselves helpless with laughter. It was a long time before they could get themselves under control again.

‘I didn’t think you elves liked jokes,’ Rhiannon accused.

‘No, only cats!’ Huw gasped and that set them all off again.

Sendatsu lay on the grass, his chest heaving, and wiped his eyes. He laughed a great deal with his children but there had been few smiles with other adults since he was forbidden to marry Asami.

‘We like to laugh as much as you,’ he said finally. ‘But perhaps nobody made a song out of that.’

‘Then we shall have to be the first,’ Rhiannon decided.

‘A song about eating cats and laughing. That should earn us coin aplenty.’ Huw grinned, rolling over and sitting up.

‘No more about the cats! Please?’ Rhiannon pleaded.

‘Well, we had better get to Catsfield before we are unable to say the name without laughing,’ Huw agreed, ‘especially as the Forlish may not be far away.’

Hector looked across the valley to where the edge of the civilised world stopped, and Vales began.

‘Are you sure of this, sir?’ his guard sergeant asked nervously. ‘The king was sending men up here to fix these damned Velsh and I wouldn’t like to run into a group of them. Then there’s our
accents. If our boys have been going through here like they’ve been ordered, it’s likely the Velsh won’t want to talk to a bunch of Forlish …’

‘Sergeant …’ Hector paused and the soldiers willed him to finally remember the name. ‘Edric!’ Hector announced and the soldiers silently sighed with relief. ‘We have been ordered by the king to bring back my daughter. I hold the king’s seal! Would you like to return to Cridianton and tell him his orders were too difficult for you? Do you think he will be happy to hear that?’

Edric gulped. He had been in the king’s service for nearly a decade and knew mercy was not one of the king’s many qualities.

‘Besides,’ and here Hector softened his voice a little. ‘I have a plan.’

After all, he needed these men to go along with him. If he was to return to Cridianton empty-handed, then all his dreams would go up in smoke. How could the girl have been so stupid? He had been sure she was his puppet, willing to do whatever he told her to. And not just willing but happy to! That had been the real triumph. Any fool could get a child to do what they were told — it took real artistry to get the child thinking it was actually the best thing for them. When his wife had died in childbirth, after he had lost his voice from the same fever that had left her weakened and unable to make it through the rigours of birth, he had thought his golden run was at an end. First he had lost his place at court, then his talents, then his wife; now he was being left with a child to care for — a girl child as well, one that would only be a burden.

But it had been his genius to see the opportunity in despair. The girl was tall and well formed — between his gifts and his wife’s beauty, surely she would have ability he could mould, talents he could use to restore his fortune.

And so he had begun his careful scheme, refining it over the years. Sadly the girl had not proved quite as fair of face as her mother, not the beauty to instantly grab the king’s attention. But she was tall, and graceful, with long limbs and a natural ability to move well — and really, he reflected, that was more important than a pretty face in the bedchamber, once the lights were out.

His dreams, his golden future, had been in his grasp. A few days’ work and everything would have been sealed. Only for it to be dashed away by his daughter’s stupidity and a foul Velshman. They were an odious people and fully deserving of what was coming their way, he decided.

The trip north had been both quick and relatively comfortable. Wherever they went, whatever they wanted, the king’s seal had been able to supply. One look at that, backed up by the hulking presence of the king’s guards, and shopkeepers and innkeepers alike swiftly offered up horses and food for free. Hector had thoroughly enjoyed the feeling, although he would have much preferred to be back in Cridianton, enjoying the fruits of his long years of hard work. Did she not understand how much it had taken to look after her, to work with her? All those ridiculous tears, those petty fears … he had virtually turned himself into her slave for the past twenty years. Did he not deserve something from that? Who else would have been willing to spend that much time working with a young girl? And afterwards, when Ward had finished with her, he would have found her a husband somewhere, ensured she had sufficient money to live on.

‘Your plan, sir?’ Edric prompted him.

Hector cleared his thoughts. ‘We shall leave your armour and uniforms at the last Forlish village. Without them, we shall be able to move much easier, remain unseen by the crude Velsh. All we have to do is find my daughter and her captor, free her and return to Cridianton with him in chains. And that will be easy enough. This Hugh, or Huw, or however he says his name doesn’t know we are after him — he thinks us still searching in southern Forland. And one or two of us can slip into a Velsh village, ask a few questions and then get out again without any suspicions being raised.’

Edric rubbed his surcoat between finger and thumb. ‘And what do we wear then, sir?’

Hector flashed the king’s seal. ‘This will get us whatever we want,’ he promised. ‘Within a few days we shall be returning to Cridianton in triumph, I promise you!’

Catsfield was another small village, surrounded by rich fields — and by a number of isolated farms.

‘How are we going to protect this?’ Rhiannon wondered as they looked across at the scatter of small farms around the village. ‘We can’t possibly build a wall around this lot!’

Sendatsu scratched his chin. ‘There are no elven buildings either. This looks like a great deal of work for nothing. I think we should ride on to the next village.’

‘No!’ Huw snapped. ‘We can’t just leave them here, unprotected! We have to save them, we have to save all of them!’

Huw’s vehemence, after the earlier friendliness, was all the more unexpected.

‘We can’t save everyone,’ Sendatsu said.

‘That was not the deal. We need to save as many as we can. And just because they don’t have elven buildings here does not mean they have no answers for you.’

Sendatsu sighed. ‘Perhaps we could get them to build up each one,’ he suggested, ‘make each of them into a stronghold?’

‘They’re made of wood and thatch. Two torches and they’ll go up in smoke,’ Huw pointed out. ‘The only way is to make them move into the main village.’

‘And you think they’ll do that?’ Sendatsu asked.

‘No. But we have to try anyway,’ Huw said grimly.

‘And the Velsh? Can I speak to them this time?’

Huw hesitated. From his conversation with Dafyd, he doubted Sendatsu would ever find the answers he sought. Huw’s father, Earwen, always said his knowledge of the ancient times was barely half that of the Crumliners. Yet Dafyd only had the same stories Earwen had told. And Huw did not think the Crumliner was holding anything back — he genuinely did not know any more. So this quest was going to become a delicate balancing act. He needed to give the elf a little hope, to keep him working on protecting the villages. If Sendatsu discovered the answers he sought were not in Vales, what would happen then? Already
he was complaining about helping villages without evidence of elven history.

‘I tell you what — any village without elven buildings, you can speak directly to the people,’ he offered, hoping this compromise would buy him enough time to protect most of Vales.

‘Then we should stop wasting time out here.’ Sendatsu spurred his horse forwards.

The people of Catsfield flooded out of their homes and in from the fields, regarding the trio suspiciously, even with a fair amount of hostility, which turned to fear and then wonderment as Rhiannon and Huw sang their Sendatsu song.

Once they knew they were with an elf, they clustered around him and Huw and Rhiannon were forced to push and order them back. But, with that achieved, the villagers listened with complete attention to Huw’s tale of what had happened at Patcham and what Catsfield needed to do. As he had predicted, the idea of leaving their homes and moving into the village proper did not meet with their approval. Even Sendatsu was not enough to get all of them to agree, although perhaps half reluctantly decided to pack up and move into the village until it was safe again. They had the usual debate about magic, before a mixture of persuasion and Sendatsu’s orders saw the villagers begin work on a ditch and a wall, carpenters on crossbows.

The biggest issue, Sendatsu felt, was their lack of knowledge. The best thing, really the only new thing he got from them, was a comment from a blind old man.

‘We don’t worship Aroaril — trying to do that will see you struck down,’ he said.

‘How do you know?’ Sendatsu pressed.

‘He’s the elven God. Any human who tries to call on Him will be destroyed.’

‘And you’ve seen that?’ Sendatsu asked eagerly, then winced at his own words.

The old man chuckled. ‘Of course not! But who would take the chance?’

‘So nobody has tried to find out?’

‘I know I’m going to die if I stick a knife in my heart, why would I want to prove it?’