Bridge of Swords (25 page)

As ever when he found examples of previous elven life in this part of the world, Sendatsu was fascinated. How had these elves and humans lived together? Had the Velsh been the servants, even the slaves of the elves? Or had they been neighbours, working together? Had a Velsh rebellion seen the elves draw back into the forest, hide behind their magic barrier and their bows? The Velsh had tried to preserve the buildings as best they could but, as always, it was obvious they lacked the knowledge to do so properly. He stretched. His side was healing well, although the stitches Rhiannon had put in were pulling when he rode.

He wanted to ride across, talk to the oldest Velsh and find out more about them. Could he find the answers here that would lead him home and let him escape his foolish promises? Then he glanced across at Huw, saw the bard watching him closely.

‘Don’t try and speak to them. I shall do it for you. Remember our deal,’ Huw told him and Sendatsu had to grit his teeth and nod reluctantly.

Rhiannon began singing, telling the villagers how wonderful Sendatsu was, how a hero had arrived to save them. It was enjoyable to listen to, although Huw’s playing seemed less than enthusiastic. But she did not get the chance to reach the best bit, about him being an elf, before they found themselves surrounded by villagers.

‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’ someone accused, and Rhiannon stopped singing as she looked around at a small crowd of partly angry, partly nervous Crumliners.

‘I am Huw the bard, son of Earwen of Patcham,’ Huw called out. ‘These are my friends, here to help you!’

There was a short discussion, while several of the men peered uncertainly at Huw and then whispered to each other.

‘We do know of Earwen, and that he had a crazy son, who sang to the sheep!’ an older man declared.

‘That is me,’ Huw admitted.

‘So what are you doing here? You know Patchamers are not welcome here,’ the man cried. ‘Are you spies for the raiders?’

‘If we were Forlish raiders, we’d have ridden in here with swords in hands, not sat and introduced ourselves. And we’d have cut you down while you talked,’ Huw told him. ‘Gather up the people so we can tell them why we have come …’

‘Why should we listen to a Patchamer?’

Huw pointed at Sendatsu. ‘Because we have brought an elf to help you!’ he shouted.

‘An elf? Where?’

‘We have an elf here!’

Almost immediately the crowd began pushing forwards and Sendatsu felt like turning his horse and galloping out of there. This was exactly like the other villages …

‘Stand back! Calm down!’ Huw used his horse to push people back. ‘Do you want to listen to what he says or drive him away?’

For a long moment, nobody moved, then Sendatsu relaxed as the people eased back.

‘I am Dafyd, and my family has lived in this village for ten generations. We shall listen to the elf’s words.’ The older Velshman stepped forwards.

Huw forced a smile. He nodded at Rhiannon, who began singing again, all about the wonder of Sendatsu.

Sendatsu breathed again as the people kept their distance, although all watched him. The bard had proved his worth there.

Sendatsu had half expected everyone to crowd into the old elven hall to listen to his words and he thought it would be the perfect venue. But, apparently, it was home to Dafyd and his extended family, so the village merely stood outside in a rough semicircle to hear Huw — and especially Sendatsu — speak.

The story of the attack on Patcham had reached them and left them fearful, so they actually cheered the news the Forlish had been defeated and sent running for their lives.

‘We have been seeing smoke on the horizon for the last few days — in all directions,’ Dafyd explained. ‘Everyone is wondering what is going on.’

They accepted news of the Forlish raiders, and how they were trying to force the Velsh to submit to King Ward’s rule — but it was Sendatsu they wanted to see, they wanted to talk about.

Huw seethed at the way they fawned over Sendatsu, falling in love with him even faster than Rhiannon had. But he hid it and helped Sendatsu explain why magic was not the best way to keep the village safe.

‘You must do the work yourself, in order to be truly protected,’ Huw said and they nodded solemnly.

Within a turn of the hourglass of the three of them riding in, a pair of carpenters and six other helpers were poring over the elven crossbows, while the rest of the village was harnessing horses and dragging both rocks and trees to begin a palisade for the village. Unlike Patcham, Crumlin fields were full of stones and rocks, which made them harder to plough and prepare for planting. It was just one of the little differences that had provided much of the rivalry between the two villages. More
importantly, it provided plenty of material that could be used as a crude wall to protect the village. Meanwhile, Dafyd and his son Edwin had climbed onto the roof of the hall that was their home and the heart of the village and were building a crude lookout platform, to give the people warning of approaching raiders.

‘If they see Patcham protected, they will come here next — and we don’t want that,’ Huw told Dafyd.

‘Really? A Patchamer caring about us?’ Dafyd sniffed.

‘We like to see you look foolish — we don’t want you dead. Besides, if the Forlish burned you out, who would we have for rivals then?’ Huw smiled.

Dafyd’s laugh boomed out and the Crumliner invited the three of them to eat with him that night.

‘Who is the girl?’ he asked. ‘Yours?’

‘No, she is with the elf. She’s Forlish but no friend of Ward — he killed her father and she only escaped with my help,’ he explained, the effort of keeping his thoughts hidden making his eyes water.

‘There are many like that in Vales now. Forlish who are afraid of their own king; who fled his guards and his taxes for a taste of freedom in Vales. A man should not have to bend the knee or hand over his goods to make rich men even richer,’ Dafyd declared.

‘But if the alternative is having your home burned out and your children killed …’ Huw pointed out.

‘I would have agreed, if it meant the village was safe,’ Dafyd admitted. ‘We wouldn’t have liked it but we would have still done it.’

‘This way is better,’ Huw agreed, hoping Dafyd would not take it a step further and ask what the plan was when Forlish raiders were beaten back and Ward turned to his regular army.

Luckily there was plenty to be done and, once again, Huw and Rhiannon led the village in songs to help the work. The huge piles of rocks that had been unearthed over decades by farmers, cursed as they were rolled and hauled into cairns at the edge of fields, were loaded into wagons and dragged into place around
the village. They served a double purpose — not only did they provide a barrier, and a way to stop raiders from riding into the village, but they were also an effective defensive position. Crossbowmen could hide high up and stand almost in safety as they poured a devastating cloud of bolts down at any attackers. And, finally, the smaller rocks could also be hurled, used as missiles themselves.

In between these crude piles of rock, trees were dragged around to fill in the gaps. It was different from Patcham’s palisade but would prove just as effective, Sendatsu judged. The Crumliners had a reverent attitude to him, bowing whenever he walked past. It was strange but far better than the way some Velsh villages had swamped him in his first days out here. Living in elven buildings, seeing these examples of elven civilisation every day, had left the Crumliners feeling they were close to the elves. He was sure they had the secrets he wanted — but Huw seemed to follow him like a shadow, while Rhiannon was never far away either.

‘If only we knew how to make the tiles to repair the roofs — or the glass to replace the windows. Storms have taken their toll over the years. We take care of the buildings as best we can but we lack the knowledge to keep them up to your standard,’ Dafyd explained, before showing a collection of broken tiles, kept stored away safely. ‘Do you know the secret?’

Sendatsu held the fragments of tile, examined them gently and carefully handed them back.

‘I am sorry. That was not my job,’ he admitted. ‘I know they are made from clay, fired in a hot oven somehow, baked into shape and strength — but whether they add sand or rock or something, I do not know …’

‘That must be it! Well, the ingredients will be in here — we shall grind up a few and then bind the mixture with water, mix it with clay, try to make them ourselves!’ Dafyd said excitedly. ‘If we fail the first time, we shall try again — and again, until we get it right!’

Sendatsu smiled — and was about to ask him about Aroaril, when Huw grabbed him.

‘Sorry, Dafyd, but the palisade needs elven expertise,’ he interrupted.

‘Of course! Still, we can talk more over dinner tonight …?’

‘I would like that very much,’ Sendatsu said hastily.

‘There are strange tales of an elf, travelling with a bard and a dancer,’ Jin reported, pulling off his human clothes and scratching himself.

‘Can’t you stand still?’ Hanto asked irritably.

‘Sorry, sir. I think I have lice or something from these human clothes,’ Jin grumbled.

Hanto sighed. ‘Where has Sendatsu gone?’

‘North and east.’

‘Interesting. We shall follow him but we’ll need to be careful. There are bands of armed humans roaming around. While you were in the village we spotted the trail of one large band going in that direction. We should move fast to catch him. The last thing we want is for Sendatsu to be killed by a human.’

‘Jaken will have the skin off our backs,’ Taigo muttered.

‘Aroaril curse Jaken! I want to kill Sendatsu myself.’

Dafyd’s family made the three of them more than welcome. Sendatsu was relieved to be inside a proper structure again, with real floors, real walls and stairs. However, it had been made to look more like a human house, with rough wattle walls put up to divide the large space into something that could house Dafyd’s extended family, including several sons-in-law, daughters-in-law and grandchildren, as well as his and his wife’s parents. Dafyd’s mother proved to be very knowledgeable about herbs and helped replace Sendatsu’s bandage and poultice, clucking with approval at the way it had been treated and was healing without infection.

They were given the best seats, as well as first choice of the roast pig. Sendatsu was able to eat this flesh now, although he made sure he chose well-cooked pieces, but he longed for some fish, some vegetables and above all rice. He needed something fresh to go with all these oats, meat and rough, grit-filled bread.

Progress had been excellent during the day and the Velsh were talking excitedly about what they had done, while Huw and Rhiannon played and sang for them. Sendatsu watched the small children laugh and play, chase each other in and out of the sitting adults — and felt a sharp pain in his heart. Each child’s laugh made his heart leap for a moment, then sink deeper down.

‘Now, who would like to see the secrets left behind to us by the elves?’ Dafyd asked with a smile.

Sendatsu sat up immediately, ignoring the stares he was getting from Huw. Dafyd opened a small cupboard to bring out his treasures.

‘Nothing like these over in Patcham, eh?’ he said with a wink at Huw, before bringing them out to show.

The adults held back the children, who wanted to get close enough to look, and, from the way Dafyd handled them, it was obvious they were the most precious things in the village.

‘I dread to think what would happen if the Forlish raiders got their hands on these,’ Dafyd sighed. ‘They are priceless.’

Heart in his mouth, Sendatsu leaned forwards to see as Dafyd placed them on a long wooden tray. Would they be evidence of worshipping Aroaril? Then his heart sank. It was a strange collection of household items. There were a few clay plates and pots, fragile with time; ordinary things with little value, and a handful of better items — all with flaws. A chipped pot with engraving around the base, a broken plate with a pretty design painted on the edge, a glass bottle with a crack in it. Strangely, all seemed to be marked with soot, or charred.

‘These were not found in the houses, but in the fields, left behind by the elves when they left our world,’ Dafyd explained.

Sendatsu was initially disappointed — then thought again. Why had they not been in the houses, why in the fields? And why did some look they had been rescued from the fire? Was this evidence of violence, or even a rush as the elves fled for Dokuzen? He would ask questions, and damn Huw!

‘What do you know of the time when the elves left you?’

‘I don’t think Dafyd needs to bore everyone with that …’ Huw began.

‘Little enough. My family has lived here for centuries and yet I do not know the truth of it. The memories passed down to me speak of great fear. Humans had attacked elves and they warned us any attempts to follow would meet with death. We cherish these objects, for they remind us of how we have fallen,’ Dafyd said solemnly. ‘Once we could have made objects like this — now we cannot. When the elves left, they took their knowledge and we have gone backwards, instead of advancing. Our craftsmen can only offer crude copies, with neither the patterns nor the quality. But one day, we dream, they will return and once again we shall reach for the stars!’

The other humans muttered agreement, and Sendatsu leaned forwards.

‘How do you know humans attacked elves? Did it happen around here?’

‘Oh, of course not!’ Dafyd chuckled. ‘You have nothing to fear! No, we would never attack the elves. It happened elsewhere.’

‘You don’t know where?’ Sendatsu pressed.

‘Far over the hills,’ Dafyd said vaguely.

Sendatsu buried his face in his hands. It was a tantalising hint of what had happened but not enough. Nowhere near enough.

‘What do you seek?’ Dafyd asked.

‘Humans worshipping Aroaril, humans who can speak a different language, who can read, maybe even humans with magic …’ Sendatsu said tiredly.

‘What on earth do you want to find that for?’ Dafyd’s son, Edwin, blurted.