Bridge of Swords (50 page)

‘Thank you for that thought — right before I eat!’ Rhiannon told him.

Glyn patted her arm. ‘I am honoured to stand in for your father on this day — and happy you are marrying Huw. The two of you together — it gives me hope, it does!’

Rhiannon laughed. She was excited about the day, although it was not exactly as she had imagined it. She had always thought her father would be there, for one. And, if she was honest, a
scruffy bard with an unusual face had not been even close to the daydreams.

But that was who she had fallen for and, after all, there were unexpected benefits. For a start there would be an elf there — and she had always wanted elves at her wedding. The big difference was the number of people who would be there. In the Forlish tradition, the whole village would watch and celebrate with the couples being married. The Velsh married with just the two fathers present, or at least one witness from each family, then returned to the village for all to celebrate. Often the nearest oak tree was far away and making the whole village journey for a day or more would not work. In Forlish villages, the oak tree was usually at the centre of the village but the Velsh climate was not quite the same. Patcham was just lucky enough to have one only a few miles away. She did not like the Velsh tradition as much but, seeing as she would be living among them as one of their leaders, she wanted to show them she admired their ways. She wanted to be more Velsh than the Velsh, so had insisted they stick strictly to the Velsh tradition, rather than taking a squad of dragons along.

She did not have a proper wedding dress, which should be made of white linen, but she still had a few of her dancing dresses, so chose her favourite.

Busy though they were, heartbroken though many were, most of the village still rallied to wave them goodbye as they rode out to the oak — the remaining dragons forming a guard of honour.

‘There’s still time to tell her the truth before we go ahead with the wedding,’ Sendatsu murmured as they rode away.

Huw ignored him. Nothing would spoil the happiness of this day, he decided.

They rode gently west, towards the woods that split Crumlin from Patcham, talking and laughing as they went.

Glyn told stories of Huw’s childhood and how the village had thought Earwen’s son had his head stuffed full of fleece.

‘He always wanted to sing, to play,’ Glyn reminisced. ‘Nobody thought he would amount to anything and now look at him. This boyo will become the leader of a united Vales!’

‘I only ever wanted to be a bard,’ Huw corrected. ‘Now we do what we must to protect Vales. I do no more than Rhiannon and Sendatsu — and oftimes I do less.’

‘Well, the people know the truth of it. It is a Velshman who has given us the courage to stand with you. I often thought your father was a fool for not beating the nonsense out of you and making a proper farmer. But I now thank the stars above he ignored me.’

Huw sought to change the subject, uncomfortable with the praise, while Rhiannon and Sendatsu could see much hilarity in these memories.

‘So what was he like as a child?’ Rhiannon teased. ‘Was he as dirty and dressed as badly as he is now?’

‘Oh, worse,’ Glyn assured them. ‘You should have seen him singing to the sheep. They thought it was the craziest dog they had ever come across!’

‘I can just imagine him as a boy, singing to the animals. Did they ever join in?’ Rhiannon laughed.

‘They made a better audience than some I have performed to,’ Huw admitted with a smile.

‘Aroaril knows what he was like as a boy — I had to just about fight to get him to take a bath in honour of the day.’ Sendatsu smiled.

‘Here now — you won’t be making everyone take baths when you rule Vales, will you?’ Glyn asked nervously. ‘I don’t hold with that!’

They laughed as they rode. Huw looked at Rhiannon and was so happy he was almost afraid.

‘This is our chance,’ Hanto snapped. ‘We kill the others, grab Sendatsu and be back in Dokuzen before nightfall. We may not get another opportunity, so we cannot make another mistake.’

Jin and Taigo wanted to go back, more than anything. Their wounds had not really healed properly, while they were filthy and hungry, struggling to find enough to fill their bellies. Hanto, on the other hand, was driven by something more. His eyes still burned with the desire for revenge.

They had watched the battle the day before with a mixture of fear and excitement, worrying that Sendatsu would be killed but hoping to find an opening in the chaos that followed. They had stalked through the woods but been unable to get close enough. Now, as if responding to their prayers, four riders had left the village — including Sendatsu.

‘No mercy. I want him dead rather than escape me again.’

His two companions nodded dully, willing to do anything if it meant a return to the comforts of Dokuzen.

‘Here we are!’ Glyn pointed out the oak, sitting alone in a small clearing, a well-trodden path to it, and around it.

‘So what now? Do we sit here while you walk around it?’ Sendatsu asked. He had relaxed; they were still close to the village, so close they could see the lookout tower and the wall, and the laughter had eased his fears.

‘Not at all. You stay with Huw here, while I take Rhiannon across to the west. Then we both approach, one from the east, one from the west; the fathers — that’s us — step back and the two of them take their hands, exchange vows and Walk The Tree together.’

‘And what are the vows?’

‘Well, to love, honour and obey, of course.’ Huw grinned. ‘Although I doubt the obey part will ever come true.’

‘Nor should it.’ Rhiannon winked at him. Her hair had been braided elaborately by Glyn’s wife, Wendi, while she wore a long cloak over the dress she had chosen for the wedding.

‘They promise to take no other, to raise their children well, to always be faithful and to work together, to look after each other as long as there is breath in their body,’ Glyn added.

‘A vow for the whole of Vales,’ Sendatsu said softly, thinking of the weddings he had been to at Dokuzen, the two elves before a priest of Aroaril, swearing to God they would never be apart. Sometimes it worked but often one or both took other lovers, like Gaibun with Asami. Then there was his marriage — they had been polite to each other but there had been no love there.
It was typical of many marriages in Dokuzen. Life went on whether families were together or fighting. In fact, there were feuds that had been going for generations, clans who actively sought to destroy another. There were elves that would have drawn swords if not for the culture of exquisite politeness. Instead they devoted their lives to secretly undermining the opposing clan. It was one of the things that kept Jaken so busy. The simplicity and the selflessness of Vales seemed to be a far better way of living.

‘Give us a short while to get ready, then begin to walk,’ Glyn instructed as he and Rhiannon kept riding, while Huw and Sendatsu got down from their horses, tying the reins around the low-flung branch.

‘It is traditional to keep the man waiting for a little while — to make him think about what he will miss if he does not marry the woman of his dreams,’ Glyn whispered as they rode on into the woods.

‘But not too long.’ Rhiannon smiled as they climbed down from the horses, tying them to a tree.

‘Let him sweat a little. He does not know how lucky he is.’ Glyn chuckled.

‘We are both lucky,’ Rhiannon corrected. She made her way around the horses so both were between her and Glyn and then slipped off her cloak and laid it over the saddle.

‘Did your wife make you wait?’

‘Too long!’ Glyn laughed.

‘Well, there we are then. Does my dress look fine? Is it too crushed?’

But Glyn did not answer, just made a strange sort of choking noise.

Rhiannon wondered if that was some sort of compliment, or perhaps the man needed a drink of water. She stepped around the horses, twirling her dress as she did so.

‘Are you all right …?’ she began, then stopped in horror.

Glyn stood facing her, but there was blood at his mouth and a sword point was sticking out of the middle of his chest. He gave
her a last, agonised look, then his eyes rolled up and he collapsed onto the ground. Rhiannon watched his slow-motion fall in terror and then looked up to see a Forlish warrior leering at her.

She took a pace backwards, opened her mouth to shout a warning, only to have a large, dirty hand clamped across her mouth.

‘Don’t want you to let them know the surprise we have for them.’ The warrior who had killed Glyn grinned viciously. ‘Come on, down the path.’

She kicked out, determined to alert Huw and Sendatsu, but a powerful punch into her kidneys left her agonised, temporarily paralysed with the pain. A strong arm grabbed her wrist, twisted it high behind her back, while the rough hand smothered her attempts to call out. She tried to dig her feet in but she was helpless against her captor’s greater strength. She was hustled down the path towards the tree.

‘Well, you are getting what you want here — but don’t blame me if it comes back to bite you when you tell Rhiannon the truth,’ Sendatsu muttered.

‘I shall tell her. Once we are married,’ Huw insisted.

‘It may be your marriage but might also be your funeral,’ Sendatsu grumbled.

‘Nobody asked you to stay here,’ Huw said tartly.

‘Well, actually you did,’ Sendatsu reminded him. ‘You’ve been trying to get me to stay here for longer than I wanted since we met!’

‘Well, after today you can do what you want, go where you will,’ Huw said absently. ‘Do you think she’s taking a long time down there?’

Sendatsu looked down the path and tapped Huw on the shoulder. ‘Here they come!’

Huw straightened his shoulders, closed his eyes and took a deep breath — then shouted in shock and surprise as he saw, not Glyn escorting Rhiannon to the tree, but a struggling Rhiannon being hustled down the path by a Forlish warrior.

‘Let her go, unless you want to spend the rest of your life
screaming in agony,’ Sendatsu vowed, his sword leaping into his hand.

‘Drop the sword, elf! And you drop any weapons you have, bard!’ the warrior shouted. ‘Drop them or she dies!’

To emphasise his words, another three of them appeared out of the shadows, swords in hands, all of them pointing at Rhiannon.

Sendatsu and Huw exchanged helpless looks. They were a good ten yards away from the little group and it was impossible to cross that distance before one or more of the Forlish killed Rhiannon.

‘If we drop our swords, we are dead anyway,’ Sendatsu murmured.

‘Quick now, my patience is running out!’ the Forlishman snarled.

Rhiannon struggled anew. She had seen Sendatsu in action often enough to know four Forlish warriors were not beyond his ability. But he could not act if they held her. She hated that. It was just like those stories they performed. The helpless heroine. Well, she would not be a part of that. She stamped down on her captor’s calf, raking her heel down the muscle, then bit down on the hand over her mouth — trying not to think what it tasted like — heard the howl of pain and snapped her head back for good measure, trying to hit his nose, feeling solid contact but not the satisfying squish that indicated she had struck her target.

It half worked. She was free for a moment, jumped forwards and opened her mouth to shout, ‘We’re all dead anyway — kill them!’ before another blow in the ribs dropped her to her knees.

Sendatsu and Huw both started forwards as she threw off the first Forlishman but two others converged on her, one slamming his fist into her side, the other grabbing her arms and twisting them back.

‘No closer! No closer or I swear she dies!’ Her original captor, blood streaming from his hand and his cheekbone swelling red, held his sword close to her neck.

Rhiannon could feel the cold steel, the edge rough from all the sharpening, and went very still. It was all very well sitting around
a warm fire, talking about how death was better than being dragged before Ward — but it was hard to embrace it when it was a hair’s breadth from your throat.

Sendatsu was torn. Everything he had learned told him to take his chances and attack. But he cared too much for Rhiannon to risk her life.

‘Enough! Drop your swords!’ The Forlishman grabbed Rhiannon’s hair, pulled her head back to expose her throat.

‘Sendatsu! Drop your sword!’ Huw cried, agonised, hurling his own knife to the ground. His crossbow was still on his saddle and too far away to be of any use.

‘I can’t! If they get us, there is no way out,’ Sendatsu hissed. ‘They won’t hurt her — they want to bring her back to Ward unharmed.’

Huw looked back and, in response, the Forlishman jerked his hand in Rhiannon’s hair, making her cry out. But she stared at them, her eyes telling them not to give in.

‘Do you bet her life on it?’ Huw muttered.

‘I count to three and then I strike! King Ward wants you alive but he’d rather have you dead than not at all. I have my orders — you have your choice. One, two …’

Sendatsu tensed himself to leap across the distance, praying that Rhiannon’s soul would forgive him if he was wrong.

‘No!’ Huw grabbed Sendatsu, held him back.

‘What are you doing?’ Sendatsu gasped. ‘They will kill us — if not now then later. And you are the only man who can unite Vales. The people need you!’

‘The dragons! They will search for us, they will follow us and free us,’ Huw whispered urgently. ‘Please, I cannot save Vales knowing she died for me — I could not live like that!’

Sendatsu looked into his eyes and, although his head told him otherwise, his heart knew he could not sacrifice Asami if the roles had been reversed. His hand opened nervelessly and his sword fell to the ground.

‘About time!’ the Forlishman rasped. ‘On your knees, hands behind your heads! Move and she dies. Tie them.’

Two of the Forlish sheathed swords and produced coils of rope, while the third rushed across and grabbed both Sendatsu’s sword and Huw’s knife. Sendatsu itched to strike, to attack them — but the sword was still right at Rhiannon’s throat and Huw’s eyes implored him not to do anything.