Wall of Spears (50 page)

Sumiko sat up straighter in her saddle. ‘Good. Let them get close and we shall take them prisoner.’

‘High One, you cannot do that. It is dishonourable,’ Mogosai said immediately.

‘That is not advice I wish to listen to,’ Sumiko dismissed him.

Then she gasped in horror as Sendatsu’s words began to ring out across the fields, reaching every one of her warriors.

‘People of Dokuzen! You have been lied to and betrayed! Sumiko is leading you to disaster!’ Sendatsu said, seeing his words cause a ripple across the massed clans.

‘I am Tadayoshi Moratsune Sendatsu! My father was Lord Jaken. He was betrayed and killed by Sumiko, not by humans! The clan leaders were captured and the Council Chamber burned because Sumiko let the Forlish into our city, told them to burn and kill so all would turn to her. She is a liar and a traitor and seeks only to rule these lands. We do not have to fight! Put down your weapons, bring us Sumiko’s head and we shall show you the truth!’

He signalled to Rhiannon and she released the magic.

‘Good work. If that doesn’t stir her up, then nothing will.’ He grinned. ‘Now let’s hope she does what we expect. Come on, we’ll get back to the hill before she tries to stop us.’

‘Two can play at that game, Sendatsu!’ Sumiko snarled. ‘Let’s see if your fat merchants and butchers and bakers stand and fight when they hear what I have to say!’ She pushed past Oroku and reached into the magic to shout back at the humans.

‘Men of Forland and Vales! Fall on your knees and bow to me if you wish to live! This is your last chance. I killed your king; today I shall kill every last one of you if you try to fight me. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Bring me the heads of Sendatsu, Asami and Rhiannon and I shall let you be first among the humans. All other countries shall be your slaves! I shall make them grovel before you as long as you do my bidding! I shall give you a quarter turn of the hourglass to walk forwards and fall on your faces before me. After that I shall come and make you beg for death.’

Her words echoed across the lines of men, then died away, to be replaced by a low growl from the massed ranks, from the Forlish, Velsh and the southerners.

‘I did not truly believe your words about these elves until I heard that,’ Reynaud said, a sentiment Sendatsu could see reflected on almost every other southern face. ‘They have to be stopped.’

‘Very clever,’ Gaibun said.

‘Well, we know Sumiko and the way she acts. It made sense.’ Sendatsu shrugged.

‘I hope you can predict what she is going to do next. Because, for all the playing around with clothes and fancy words, we still have to beat an elven army with little more than some half-trained boys, the remains of a beaten army and a bunch of slaves who haven’t held a sword for moons.’

‘If you have any better ideas, I’d like to hear them,’ Sendatsu said.

Gaibun grinned. ‘No. I’m going to be busy enough keeping you alive.’

Sendatsu slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Well, this day is going to be one to tell our children about.’

Gaibun’s smile disappeared at that and Sendatsu nudged him again. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t think you’ll have enough funny stories?’

Gaibun shook his head. ‘I know this is foolishness but please hear me out. I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking about my child and the things I would have to tell them about what I have done, the mistakes I have made. I had to write some of it down, get it out of me. If anything should happen, it’s in my belt pouch. Make sure Asami sees it, reads it to our child when they are old enough.’

‘That is nonsense. You can tell them yourself,’ Sendatsu snorted.

‘I am serious!’ Gaibun grabbed his arm. ‘Remember, please!’

‘I’m not likely to forget. In fact I plan to bring it up as often as possible to humiliate you.’ Sendatsu nudged his friend.

‘Here they come!’ The shout went up from a dozen throats and Sendatsu forgot about Gaibun’s nonsense to look at the way the elven host was advancing. The bright colours of armoured warriors were all facing them, while the plainly-dressed esemono were over on the left, trotting towards what they thought were Velsh and slaves but were actually the Forlish.

‘Perfect, she has done exactly what we wanted,’ Sendatsu said, trying to keep the relief out of his voice.

‘But it looks like they’ll be trying to drive us off with arrows,’ Gaibun said, seeing the first elves slow to a halt more than a hundred paces away, bows in hand.

‘Get ready to fall back! Shields up! Retreat by lines!’ Sendatsu roared. ‘We go back two hundred paces, no more, and reform there! Rhiannon — tell Edmund what we are doing!’

The steady retreat he wanted turned into more of a torrent as men hurried away, shields held high.

‘Hold your lines! They have to think we are the Forlish!’ he shouted, his orders echoed by the southern leaders. But it was only the Velsh who really listened and obeyed, keeping their order, and even they began to hurry when the deep thrum of thousands of bows being released echoed across the fields.

‘Slow down! Stop at the line of marshals!’ Sendatsu yelled. He would have liked to hold this hill, for it would have given the southerners some reassurance. But it was not worth the cost.

Gaibun grabbed him by the shoulder. ‘Get moving yourself. I am going to keep you alive even though you don’t plan to make it easy for me. I’m going to do something impossibly brave to save you.’

Sendatsu half turned to see him grinning.

‘If I fall saving you, Huw will have to make up the longest song he’s ever done to describe my heroism.’

‘I’ll be the one saving you.’ Sendatsu winked.

‘Hah! That’ll be a first!’ Gaibun laughed, before an arrow flew down and ripped open his throat.

Sendatsu stood there in shock as Gaibun’s blood sprayed across his face and he watched his friend fall to the ground. For a long moment they looked at each other, then Sendatsu saw the life fly from his friend’s eyes.

‘No!’ he cried, falling to his knees, but it was too late. Gaibun was gone.

Sendatsu dimly registered the sound of thousands more arrows whistling through the air and forced himself to his feet, stumbling after the last of the Velsh. Behind him, screams said that a few stragglers had been caught as the hilltop was covered in arrow shafts. Awareness came back to him as he followed the others towards where Edmund’s marshals were trying to slow down the fleeing southerners and get them to reform the line.

‘Are you hurt?’ Asami asked, rushing to his side.

‘It’s not mine. It’s Gaibun’s. He’s dead,’ Sendatsu said dully. He rubbed at his face, smearing Gaibun’s lifeblood over his sleeves.

‘What? No!’ Asami cried and tried to turn, forcing him to grab her.

‘It is too late. He was killed in a heartbeat,’ he said brutally.

Asami clung to him, sobbing, and it was all he could do not to join her as they stumbled after the Velsh.

‘Run!’ Edmund ordered, his words picked up by the sergeants. ‘Run as if you’ve never heard an order before and never stood in the battleline!’

That was the key to the deception. Not only did they have to hide their armour beneath clothes and stand beneath the banner of the Velsh, they could not reveal their discipline. Slowly at first, then with more enthusiasm, men broke and ran, waving their arms and their swords.

‘But stand at the marshals! Don’t go a step further!’

Edmund joined the headlong rush, looking over his shoulder at the advancing elves and the arrow storm falling on where they had stood just a few moments before. A handful of men slow to obey were caught and riddled with arrows but the rest were racing away. He glanced over to where the southerners and Velsh were also running back, showing just a hint of discipline.

‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ he muttered, looking for Sendatsu in the crowd.

‘They are breaking, just as we thought they might! They didn’t even stand for one volley of arrows,’ Oroku reported excitedly.

‘They will not get away again like they did yesterday. Chase them down and kill until there are none left,’ Sumiko said ruthlessly.

‘High One, this could be a trap. It would be better to advance slowly and with care,’ Mogosai warned.

‘A trap? They are running! If we let them, they will keep running until they reach their city. We will move to the hill with our female archers, as planned. If they have some trick up their sleeves, then we shall pull back to the hill and destroy them with magic and arrows.’

Asami was in no condition to fight. Not yet anyway, Sendatsu saw. Her grief at Gaibun’s death would surely change to anger and a desire for revenge but she wasn’t there yet. He supported her as they hurried along and used his own pain to give him fury, a fury that spilled over as he watched dozens of southerners racing on past the marshals, leaving behind swords, shields and anything else they were carrying.

He stalked off in search of the southern leaders.

‘This is where we stand!’ he told them. ‘When the elves get close, you will draw swords and follow my dragons at the charge — or I will hunt down every last one of you.’

They drew back from his rage, as well as the blood coating his face.

‘You have to understand these men are not ready —’ Reynaud began.

‘And they have to understand there is something worse than the enemy over there. And that is me.’ He glared around at them and none could meet his eyes.

‘Tell them!’

He let them hurry off to try to rally their men and turned back to Sumiko and her elves. They were flooding forwards now, advancing at the run, as if they were afraid the humans would escape them. He could see archers taking up positions on the hill and cursed. That was going to cause problems. He glanced back at his own side — the southerners were holding in place, although many were still looking over their shoulders. He drew his sword and began walking along the front of them.

‘When the elves get to within twenty paces, the dragons will loose their crossbows, a cloud of little bolts that will stop those elven warriors dead in their tracks. Then you will follow me into their ranks. The elves are a terrible enemy and they will give you no mercy. They killed every wounded man yesterday, so giving up will only get you dead. And if they don’t kill you, I shall! If things are going badly, then the Velsh will use magic to save you. This is the time when you take back these lands for yourselves. Follow me and live, or run and die. The choice is yours!’

He could see the doubt and even fear in many of their eyes but he did not care.

‘Sendatsu!’ Huw shouted and he turned again, to see the first elven warriors racing in, now just one hundred paces away. The leaders slowed a little, to let the rest of the clans catch up, and enable a thick rank to strike at the same time.

Sendatsu pushed his way between Sven and one of his Landish warriors, another giant of a man. But while the blond Landish were a good head taller than Sendatsu, they drew back from him.

‘Loose on my command!’ Sendatsu raised his sword and waited. The warriors racing towards him were his own people, perhaps even from his own clan. But at the moment they were just the enemy — and he hated them for killing Gaibun.

‘Hold!’ Edmund ordered. ‘Wait until they are too close to stop!’

Edmund watched the charging elves dispassionately. Sendatsu had given them a strange name, called them esemono. But to Edmund the only important thing was they carried little or no armour. Best of all, they seemed to think they were facing a rabble, so they were coming in raggedly, the faster runners getting way ahead of the slower. But the Forlish were ready for them, the first two ranks standing loosely, without shields — hiding the real Forlish line behind them.

‘Now! Wall of spears!’ Edmund roared.

Instantly the first two ranks melted back through the others, moving to safety, unmasking lines of shields bristling with spears and eager to take revenge for the death of Ward and the slaughter of their friends the day before.

‘Brace! Ready, lads!’ Caelin roared. He and the others stood in the third rank, which was about to become the front rank, which was strange in itself. He had never wanted to take that responsibility and risk but their victory the night before and the way he had saved Hild had turned him into something of a talisman. And now he was a captain he could not let down the others by stepping back.

‘Let them get so close they can’t stop!’ Caelin shouted the orders while tugging down the stupid collar on his ridiculous tunic. He wished he could simply rip it off but a disguise was a disguise.

The elves running at them now looked different — none of them had the bright, elaborate armour of the warriors they had faced the day before — but they still came on fast and they still all carried the long, curved swords. When they were barely twenty paces away, the cry went up along the line.

‘Wall of spears!’

The front two ranks pushed back, as if they were too afraid to stand there and Caelin, Harald and Ruttyn let them through then locked shields, making a solid line with the rest of the men. Behind them, the new second and third lines levelled spears at chest and head height.

‘Crouch and touch!’ Caelin bellowed.

‘You sound like you mean it now, captain,’ Ruttyn said as they braced themselves, knocking shields together to make sure they had an unbroken line.

The leading elves slowed dramatically at the sudden transformation but the ones behind, who had too much momentum and could not see what was happening, pushed them onwards.

Caelin picked out a young elf who was glancing over his shoulder rather than looking where he was going. He drove forwards, putting his weight behind his shield, using his legs to power up and forwards. The metal boss in the centre of his shield, the size of his fist, smashed into the elf’s face. The elf’s feet went flying out from underneath him, while his teeth went flying in all directions.

A sword came in from the left but Harald caught that on his shield then the spears began to punch out, the heavy iron heads driving through clothes, bones and flesh, piling up elven bodies. Still the elves rushed in and now the Forlish front line was using their swords as well.

One screaming elf thrashed his sword at Ruttyn, who covered up behind his shield. The man behind Ruttyn kept his shield high, protecting Ruttyn’s head. Caelin swivelled on his right foot and thrust with his sword, feeling it drive deep into the elf’s side. Blood spurted out and the elf turned, mouth open in a scream — then a spear smashed into his mouth and knocked half his head off.

Elves rushed in, their swords flashing in extravagant, crazy strokes that changed direction at the last moment to cut throats instead of chests, or knees instead of heads. But the very nature of these huge blows from the longer swords meant they had to give each other plenty of room. They fought alone, while the Forlish fought together, the front rank protecting each other, the rear ranks stepping instantly into any fallen man’s place and always the spears were hammering out, driven with men’s full strength and weight behind them, crunching in ribs and chests and heads, until the solid iron heads were flinging blood high in the air every time they were withdrawn.