Bridge of Swords (14 page)

Rhiannon squealed with excitement and clapped her hands together at the thought, before regaining control of herself. I have to stop acting like a moonstruck maiden if I am to impress him, she decided. The strange sensation was fading now and she felt more in control of herself.

‘We know so much about the elves. The dance you saw us doing back in Pontypridd was called the “Dance of the Elves”, and is meant to represent the fateful day when they sealed themselves away from the human world. Huw and I learned our craft in different countries but we are both well versed in elven lore. Much of our songs are based on elves, or about elves. Did you recognise the song, or perhaps the dance?’

‘A little,’ Sendatsu admitted. ‘There were notes there, as well as steps you made, that reminded me very much of dances back home. Song and dance have always been part of our culture. They have obviously survived our long absence from your world. But what about the elven lore?’

‘Where to begin? There are many stories about you,’ Rhiannon said excitedly.

‘Believe me, I’ve heard many of them,’ Sendatsu said wearily. ‘I am after something more solid.’

‘We have that!’ Rhiannon squeaked. ‘Huw, show him your elfbolt!’

Huw leaned forwards, pulling out the little stone elfbolt on the thong around his neck. ‘Here it is. It is a lucky charm that worked for both Rhiannon and me when we auditioned for the king …’

‘What?’ Sendatsu looked at it closely. This was the same thing the women in the woods had shown him — and then run away
when he did not know what it meant. At least now he could study it properly. Back in the woods Delia had seemed to have a scrap of stone — Huw’s at least looked like a crude arrowhead. But why did they call it an elfbolt? Why would elves use it?

‘I have never seen that sort of thing before in Dokuzen. Whatever it is, this is not made by elves. We have never used stone arrowheads.’

Huw leaned back, his face crestfallen.

‘What do you think they do?’

‘Well, because they are from the elves, everyone thinks they have magic properties. They can bring you luck and, if you place them inside a bandage, can heal wounds,’ Rhiannon said.

Sendatsu leaned back in disbelief. ‘How can a stone do all that?’

‘Because it is of the elves!’

Sendatsu shook his head. ‘Well, it is not elven. Aroaril knows where they came from! Tell me, what else do the Velsh know about the elves, and Aroaril?’

‘Aroaril we have never heard of — but we know plenty about the elves. They could all use magic, they showed us many things but could not cure us of our warlike natures. In despair they shut themselves away from the human world behind a magic barrier …’ Huw said.

Sendatsu gritted his teeth. That was not what he wanted to hear.

‘Well, I am from Forland and we all know about the elves there!’ Rhiannon said excitedly. ‘You should visit …’

‘You would do well not to go to Forland,’ Huw interrupted, wanting to change the subject and stop the devoted look on Rhiannon’s face. ‘We have just come from there, from the court of King Ward himself. His men are crushing the southern countries and now he plans to bring Vales under his control by sending his soldiers disguised as bandits here, to raid and kill. Skies above knows what he would make of an elf — but I doubt he would be welcoming. His men are vicious killers and his wealth is built on slavery and conquest. That was why we came home, to warn
people what is coming for them. Please, you have to help us — we need a leader, a hero, something to unite us …’

‘That is not what I am here for.’ Sendatsu shook his head. ‘I have a more important task.’

‘What could be more important than saving lives? We are running out of time, Ward’s soldiers must be getting close …’

‘You are too late,’ Sendatsu said, wanting to get back to what these two knew. ‘I have met some of his men already. They are raiding even now.’

‘No!’ Huw cried. ‘Where did you meet them? When? How?’

‘It was near here. I was making camp when a group of them stumbled across me.’ He tried to gloss over it.

‘Finding an elf would have been their fatal mistake,’ Rhiannon declared. ‘What happened?’

‘Well, I killed them and freed the women prisoners they had taken. Although the women just demanded I perform magic for them.’ He shrugged.

‘Wonderful! The women were so lucky they had a hero like you there!’

‘Have you seen any more? Where was the attack?’ Huw said urgently.

‘Oh, some place called … Patches? Patfull? No, Patcham!’ Sendatsu dismissed it. ‘Look, can either of you read another language, or speak another language?’

The mention of his home village was a thunderbolt to Huw. He never thought Patcham would be a target, for it was deep in Vales and he was positive none of Ward’s men could be that far north yet. But it only took a few moments for the shock to wear off.

‘Are you sure it was Patcham? Was it somewhere else?’ he gasped, grabbing hold of Sendatsu’s tunic.

Sendatsu shoved his hand away. ‘Yes, I am sure it was Patcham. Why?’

Huw bounced up. ‘We have to go. We have to leave now, we have to get there,’ he gabbled, unsure whether to start helping Rhiannon pack or head to his own room.

‘What?’ Rhiannon and Sendatsu said together.

‘Patcham — that is my village! Was anyone hurt in the attack?’

Sendatsu licked suddenly dry lips. This was an unexpected turn. ‘I think there were a few deaths,’ he said carefully.

‘Do you know who was hurt or killed?’

‘Well, I never saw the village but the women who I rescued were all young — probably about your age. They lost their husbands.’

Huw felt sick with worry, unable to take much comfort from that. ‘I have to get back there. My father is there!’

‘Oh no, Huw!’ Rhiannon exclaimed, surging from the bed and rushing over to him.

‘Well, you can’t leave now. It’ll be nightfall within the turn of an hourglass and there’s no moon — it’ll be black as pitch out there,’ Sendatsu said sensibly. ‘The raiders are all dead, the attack on Patcham was a couple of days ago, so rushing there through the night won’t make any difference but could see your horse lamed or yourself injured.’

‘You can guide us!’ Rhiannon said. ‘Everyone knows elves can find their way through the dark as if they were cats!’

‘That’s one story I hadn’t heard before,’ Sendatsu said incredulously, as they both stared at him eagerly.

‘But everyone says you can see for miles and hear a fly’s whisper!’

‘No, I can’t,’ Sendatsu promised. He wondered why they had kept ridiculous stories, and forgotten the truth.

‘Please, we need your help,’ Rhiannon implored. ‘The Velsh need a real hero. They need you!’

Sendatsu had no intention of getting caught up in this. Asami — to say nothing of Mai and Cheijun — were relying on him to find answers. Getting involved in human squabbles was not going to help that — and might even get him hurt or killed. Besides, apart from his children, he had successfully avoided responsibility in his life so far. Now was not the time to change his habits.

‘Look, my father knows much about the elves and humans, about what really happened when they left,’ Huw said desperately,
seeing the elf’s reluctance. ‘If you accompany us, he will tell you all you need to know.’

‘Such as?’

Huw cast around for a story he remembered. ‘That we used to have our own language, different to what we speak now,’ he declared.

Sendatsu leaped up from the bed, his heart pounding. A different language, like the one in the book he had found. Hope flared within him. There could be a way here …

‘What are we waiting for?’

You could say my fault was I was too trusting. But looking back on it, I had little choice. Even knowing where my choices led me, to this dark place and my impending death in the dawn, I could not say I would do anything differently. Hindsight makes wise men of us all but the reality was, I could only make choices based on what I knew at the time. You make your choices and live with the consequences. Or, in my case, die with the consequences.

I needed the Magic-weavers to create the barrier. To build it properly, tie it to the magic within us, so that it faded as our magic faded away, eventually allowing us to rejoin the rest of the world. They had to know my fears about some on the Council and the concerns of the forefathers that our people might rule the other human tribes. It was perhaps natural it put ideas in their heads. To perform magic — not the clumsy tricks that are the limit of most of our natural ability — but real magic, the stuff that changes the world around us, must be amazing. To stand there, feel the power of the whole world around you and know it is yours to mould and manipulate as you wish … it must be a feeling like no other. Is it any wonder they wanted to wield that sort of power in the rest of their lives?

‘The tombs?’ Asami could see this ending badly for her. ‘But won’t they be expecting that?’

‘If I went near there, or indeed if any other Magic-weaver tried to enter the tombs, they would be killed instantly,’ Sumiko admitted. ‘But you have far more power than any Magic-weaver in fifty years. You were the first to break the barrier around Dokuzen! They will not be able to stop you, especially not on the Festival of Summer.’

Asami saw the logic. The second-biggest festival after the Test, only a handful of guards would be left, for all elves would join the celebrations.

‘But the risk …’

‘It is worth it. If you can bring us back those books … knowledge brought with us from the land of Nippon, where our forefathers first arrived when they left the service of the dragons, and from where they found wives and families to bring here. Knowledge also taken from the human lands before we left there. In there is the proof we need to bring down the Council.’

‘But we cannot read them, they are in other languages …’

‘Follow me.’

Sumiko took her inside the villa, to the Magic-weaver’s private office. Here she used the magic to open part of the stone wall and reveal a space inside. Then she reached in and produced a book, which she opened reverently.

‘This has been handed down through the generations of High Magic-weavers. Inside this book are the details of the magic we worked, centuries ago, so that all humans — including us — spoke the same language. In here are many of the old languages — the Nipponese we once spoke and the human languages as well — Velsh, Forlish, Breconese … this is the key to understanding them. With this, with magic and with hard work, we shall be able to decipher what those books say.’

‘But will the people believe it? They have been told only what the Council wants them to believe for so long — and told we are not to be trusted.’

Sumiko smiled. ‘The people are not happy. They see how the Council and the leaders of the clans live. They serve silently as the nobility dines on delicacies, then go home and eat rice and scraps,
drown their misery in rice wine. They accept their lot — but they do not like it. We are already using this, already spreading the word among the people. We tell them the Magic-weavers are here to help, they want to make life better for everyone. We are preparing the way. Soon the word will begin spreading without us …’

‘And into the ears of the Council!’ Asami gasped.

‘Exactly. They will overreact, as always. Council Guards will rush out to arrest anyone under suspicion of passing on this message, or claiming the barrier will soon fail. That will play into our hands. It will confirm everything we are saying and drive the people away from the Council faster than we ever could.’

Asami bowed. It would be slow, at first, but then things would begin rolling, like a snowball, and become unstoppable. As long as she was able to get those books.

‘Yes, much of it hinges on you,’ Sumiko said softly.

‘But I promised Sendatsu that I would get him back. What if something was to go wrong? Could I perhaps bring him back first and then try …?’

Sumiko stood. ‘Walk with me,’ she instructed.

This time, tall hedges sprouted around Sumiko’s garden. Asami felt as if she and the High Magic-weaver were walking through some sort of maze. Everywhere she turned, there was a wall of green blocking her view of the way ahead.

‘You cannot trust anyone,’ Sumiko warned.

Behind her the hedges waved, as if in a high wind, although their movement was silent.

‘I know what you are thinking. Bring Sendatsu back, hide him somewhere until it is safe for him to come out. But that will not work, will not stay secret for long. I fear the Council has a spy among my ranks. I believe Jaken has subverted at least one of my Magic-weavers. You would return with Sendatsu only for you both to die in a shower of arrows from the Border Patrol. Do not underestimate the risks. The Council killed to gain power three centuries ago. They waded through blood! Any elf who stood up to them was destroyed. They will not hesitate to kill to preserve their power now. The stakes are too high for anything else.’

The hedges shook with fury and vines writhed out of the soil as she said it, although her voice was mild. ‘You have to do it my way. And beware of Gaibun. Especially of Gaibun!’

‘He would not betray Sendatsu. He and I may have our problems but once he has given his word, he would never break it. And he swore to help Sendatsu return.’

‘You are so sure of him?’

‘I would bet my life on it,’ Asami stated. ‘Gaibun has been raised from birth to always tell the truth and be honourable. It is a way of life for him …’

‘And the lovers he has taken?’

Asami flushed. ‘That is different. They give him what I cannot.’

‘And if Jaken can give him what we cannot?’

‘No!’ Asami cried. ‘I cannot accept that. Gaibun’s father has always lived by a code of honour and Gaibun has always followed that. For him to break his word would be the end of him.’

Sumiko looked away for a moment. ‘As you said, it is your life at risk. Do what you wish but prepare for the tombs. I need you to do this. Sendatsu needs you to do this. We have come this far. We cannot stop now. You trusted me before, trust me now.’

‘Even assuming I can get in there, I don’t know what sort of book to take with me. When I was there last, there was a whole cabinet of them,’ Asami protested.

Behind her, the hedges swelled and loomed.

‘Do you want to help Sendatsu or not? The books with the blue leather covering are the ones we brought from Nippon. Get those books, return them to me and I can have the Council in my hand by the next moon.’

Asami bowed her head. Part of her said Sumiko was right, they had come too far to back out now. But the days she had spent away from Sumiko had given her time to think. She had always trusted her sensei, believed her tales of a better life for all in Dokuzen. But some of the things that happened the night Sendatsu had been sent away had jarred. Asami found herself questioning whether Sumiko had used magic on Hanto, to enrage him and force a confrontation with Sendatsu. And the mysterious message
that so inflamed Sendatsu’s father, Jaken. Who had written that? Sumiko had so wanted to send Sendatsu into the human world. Had she manipulated events to make that happen? And was she manipulating Asami now? Asami wanted to know why the Magic-weavers had not taken the books in the long years they had sat there, gathering dust. She sensed she was getting out of her depth, wondered if she was being used by the sensei she had once trusted. But, if that was true, then she was partly to blame for sending Sendatsu out into danger. She had to get him back. She had promised to return him, to reunite him with his children. His fate and the Magic-weavers’ ambitions were now intertwined. She had promises to keep on both sides. This was the only way forwards.

‘I shall do it,’ she promised.

Behind her, the hedges stopped moving, leaving but one path forwards.

‘It will be best if we don’t speak again until you have the books,’ Sumiko said blandly.

She watched Asami leave, her mind elsewhere. She had been thinking about her father, her sensei and the previous leader of the Magic-weavers. There had been no question but that she would succeed him as their leader.

Most elves did not even consider using magic until their lessons began. But she had been training since she could walk, working on her magic, her control and her strength. Some children would have rebelled, others found a different path. But her destiny was set in stone one sunny day, while walking with her father around the main Dokuzen markets. Her father, Oshi, was known by both name and reputation and, while many people gave them both a wide berth, the stallholders and common people gave him due deference.

Until a small party of noble elves, sons and daughters of a clan leader and their high-ranking friends, had pushed in front of them at a food stall.

‘There is a line here,’ Oshi said sharply. ‘It begins behind me.’

The laughing young elves turned on him, one of them stepping in close.

‘You dare to question us? Do you know who we are?’ he snarled.

‘A rude young man?’ Oshi replied coldly.

Instantly the elf backhanded Oshi across the face, sending him tumbling to the cobbles.

‘Dog! You dare to speak to me like that?’

Oshi sprang to his feet and the young Sumiko watched excitedly, sure her father was going to teach these arrogant young fools a lesson they would never forget. She had seen his power a dozen times and no youths could hope to face him.

‘I am Oshi, sensei of the Magic-weavers and …’

‘I am Tadayoshi Moratsune Jaken,’ the young noble interrupted, ‘and Magic-weavers are subservient to us. Try anything and we shall see to it that every Magic-weaver is humbled, your entire family disgraced and sent to live as esemono.’

Oshi swelled up and Sumiko held her breath … only to let it out again as Oshi offered a deep bow.

‘My apologies, Jaken. I spoke out of turn,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Please forgive me.’

Jaken waved him away and a shocked Sumiko was dragged out of the markets by her father.

She turned to him once clear of the markets, when he slowed down enough for Sumiko to get her feet once more. She was about to demand why Oshi had not punished Jaken when she realised he was weeping, tears of frustration and anger. The sight of her beloved father, the man she admired above all others, with tears running silently down his face, made her angry words dry up in her throat.

‘Remember this day,’ he said softly, his voice furious. ‘I could have destroyed those fools in a heartbeat, only there were too many witnesses and you would have paid for it. You are more important than my pride. But this should never happen. The Magic-weavers should be acclaimed above all others, not despised. It will fall to you to restore the order to its former glory. We should rule Dokuzen, not those petty fools on the Council.’

‘I will make that happen, Father,’ Sumiko had promised that day — and promised herself again.

Now her chance was coming. She would not fail her father.

A noise behind her made her spin, to see Oroku bowing low.

‘Are we wise to put so much faith in a girl like that?’ her deputy asked.

Sumiko smiled thinly. ‘Oroku, you are gifted with the magic. But leave thoughts of strategy to me. She is the perfect tool for the job. She is stronger in magic than just about everyone else and she is also fitter than any of us, skilled with sword, bow and fist. And, best of all, she will do anything to restore her foolish lover to her side.’ Sumiko leaned across and let her fingers brush across the petals of the nearest plants, which seemed to shiver with pleasure at her touch.

‘And what if she discovers you were the one who sent the message to his father in his name, who inflamed Hanto so he acted rashly, who forced things along so Sendatsu was forced to flee?’ Oroku pressed. ‘What if she learns you needed to prove the barrier was fading but could not be sure and risked Sendatsu’s life — and her own — to create the right atmosphere of fear to overthrow the Council?’

‘By the time she finds out the truth it will be too late and our victory will be complete. She is a tool and, like all tools, may be disposed at the end of the task.’

Sumiko stretched abruptly and the flowers behind her instantly withered and died. It was all very well sharing your plans with those you needed to see them fulfilled but, equally, they did not have the wit to grasp the necessary subtleties. She sighed and unbent a little.

‘They are of great help now but will only cause problems once we have taken power. They believe in concepts of honour, in love. They will try to hold me to my promises to make a better Dokuzen.’

‘But, sensei, it will be a better Dokuzen!’

‘Of course. For us.’

Asami left Sumiko’s house, her frustration ready to boil over. She liked and admired her sensei, had thought her the wisest of
the elves, been willing to follow her vision for a better Dokuzen without question. Now she doubted. Comments and actions she had dismissed in the past bobbed back to the surface and she wondered whether she had made a huge mistake in following Sumiko so closely. But now was not the time to back out. She had to return Sendatsu or she would not be able to live with herself. Get him back first and then she could worry about Sumiko.

The path from Sumiko’s villa to the main part of Dokuzen was familiar to her after the years of study; she knew the sights, sounds and even the smells she would pass.

So she knew when something was wrong. Someone was following her and doing it so well that she could not tell who it was, or where they were. She just knew they were there.

Sumiko’s words about the Council having a spy and being prepared to kill came back to her and, with a sick sensation, Asami realised she had no sword.