Melcorka Of Alba

by Malcolm Archibald

  'If ever it does,' Melcorka said, 'then we shall defeat the rakshasa.' She did not admit how worried she was.

  * * *

  With their loolas patrolling ahead and all around, the Chola fleet sailed parallel to the coast. The long swells of the ocean caressed the hulls, with the sun turning the white spray into diamond-bright sparks. Melcorka stood near the stern of the royal yacht Akramandham, while Rajaraja sat on a raised platform on the quarterdeck, watching everything that was happening.

  Touching the hilt of Defender, Melcorka hoped that her arrangements would be successful. Although she usually had confidence in her ability to defeat any enemy, apprehension gnawed at her as the fleet slipped south, rounded the extremity of the sub-continent and then headed north toward the lands of Thiruzha. Bhim and Dhraji awaited, one an astute military tactician and the other a rakshasa from the underworld.

  'Do not worry,' Melcorka.'Kulothunga stood beside Rajaraja. 'I am here. We cannot lose.'

  'Thank you, Kulothunga. That is reassuring.' Melcorka did not hide her smile.

  The red tiger flag of Chola snapped from the mizzen mast and stern of each vessel, with men posted at the masthead as lookouts, watching for the movement of the loolas and scanning the sea for any sudden Thiruzha incursion.

  Melcorka surveyed the fleet. She had learned the name and function of every class of Chola vessel. The loolas were the light vessels used for scouting, or escorting merchant ships to protect them from stray pirate attacks. The vajaras were the next class up; longer, stronger and better armed, these vessels had provided the mainstay of the previous Chola fleet to attack Kollchi. The dharani were even larger; they tended to work in small flotillas. Finally, there were the thirisdais, the battleships. More massive than anything Melcorka had seen before, these vessels carried hundreds of fighting men and alien war-machines of a type that intrigued her.

  'What are these weapons?' Melcorka asked.

  'Don't you have them in Alba?' Kulothunga asked.

  'We have nothing like them,' Melcorka said.

  Kulothunga smiled. 'Hopefully, the Thiruzha pirates have not seen them, either. We might give them a very nasty surprise.' His laugh was totally devoid of humour as he scanned the horizon.

  'We're nearing Thiruzha waters,' a ship's officer warned. 'Any vessel here could be hostile.'

  'Good,' Kulothunga said. 'I hope the Thiruzhas send out their entire fleet, so we can smash them to splinters and send them to the bottom.'

  The first loola returned within an hour, her oars churning the sea into a silver-white froth and her master urging more and ever more speed.

  'I think your loolas have made contact with the Thiruzha, your Majesty,' Bradan murmured. 'Now, Bhim's scouts will try and lure them into a trap.'

  'You said that Bhim used that tactic with my previous fleet,' Rajaraja said.

  'That is what happened,' Bradan said.

  'Then we will do the same to them.' Rajaraja said. 'Bring the captain of the loola to me.'

  The loola captain was a slim, elegant-looking youth with a ready smile and a thin moustache. Rajaraja gave him orders, patted him on the shoulder and sent him away again. The loola hurried to another vessel of the same class, and within a few moments, the instructions had been passed from ship to ship around the fleet.

  'Your Majesty,' Melcorka called out. 'May I crave your permission to serve on one of the loolas?'

  Rajaraja looked at her. 'I prefer you to remain where I can see you,' he said. 'I do not wholly trust you yet.'

  Kulothunga smiled and touched the hilt of his sword. 'If you wish, Your Majesty, I can go with her. I have already bested her in swordplay and wrestling. If I see her doing anything against your Majesty's best interests, I will cut off her arms and feed her to the sharks.'

  Rajaraja nodded. 'If anybody can control a female, Kulothunga, you can. You hear that, Melcorka? My best swordsman will be watching every move you make.'

  'I heard,' Melcorka said.

  Kulothunga touched a hand to the hilt of his sword and frowned at Melcorka. 'Don't forget, woman.'

  'I will also keep your man here, Bradan the coward.' Rajaraja smiled. 'If you do not fight your best for me I shall hang him from the yard-arm by his ankles and let the sun roast him to death.'

  'There is no need for threats, Your Majesty.' Melcorka said. 'I have rights to wrong with Dhraji and Bhim.'

  'So you claim,' Rajaraja said. 'Keep both eyes on her, Kulothunga.'

  'I will,' Kulothunga promised. 'Come, Melcorka, and we shall see if you know anything about using that graceless old sword of yours.'

  Rajaraja signalled to the closest loola. 'Take these warriors with you,' he ordered, 'and make sure the foreign woman is at the fiercest of the fighting.'

  The loola's captain was named Jasweer, a shapely woman with a scar on her chin and chain mail covering her from throat to thighs. For a moment, Jasweer looked disgusted that a foreign woman should burden her vessel, and then she replied, 'Aye, Your Majesty!' She raised her voice to a clear shout. 'You heard Rajaraja! Bring this useless luggage on board and steer for the enemy!'

  Melcorka found that the deck of a loola was very different from the quarterdeck of the royal yacht. Men, woman, weapons and equipment took up every square inch of space, and the crew were all vibrant young people, wiry rather than muscular and eager to get to grips with the enemy. Most were sailors, but, in common with every other vessel of the Chola fleet, the loola carried a contingent of marines, who looked capable of taking on anything.

  'Come on then, Kulothunga,' Jasweer said, 'and, if you must, bring that ugly foreign woman with you. We can use her for ballast, I suppose.'

  The crew and marines laughed. The sailors pulled at the oars in unison as the lookout sat cross-legged at the masthead.

  Jasweer nodded to Kulothunga's sword. 'Do you think you'll get close enough to use that?'

  'I hope so!' Kulothunga said. 'I want to kill the Thiruzha.'

  'We have archers and marines for fighting,' Jasweer said. 'Landsmen are better on land. They can't handle the sea.' The crew laughed again. 'And as for that,' Jasweer jerked a thumb toward Melcorka, 'what can I say?'

  'You can use her as bait,' one of the forward oarsmen said, as others gave alternative and cruder uses for Melcorka that caused Jasweer to laugh and shake her head.

  'You! Ugly foreign woman! You stand over there and keep out of the way.' Jasweer pointed to the mast. 'When the fighting starts, you can either hide or dive overboard, I don't care which, as long as you don't get in the way or put any of my crew in danger.'

  The loola raced onward with her prow kicking up spray and the wind whining in the rigging. The smell of sweat filled the air as the crew bent to the oars, hauling like heroes. A breeze kicked spume from the wave-tops, cooling the rowers as Jasweer scampered to the masthead, agile as a teenager despite her chain-mail.

  'Enemy ahead!' she shouted. 'Two, three, four Thiruzha scouting craft and they've seen us. Archers, get ready!'

  'Are we going to fight them?' Kulothunga drew his sword in readiness.

  'Naturally!' Jasweer said. 'Do you think we've come here to salaam politely and worship Shiva?' She raised her voice. 'We're the point of the sword! We're the sharp end of the Navy! We're Rajaraja's finest killers! We're Jasweer's Sharks! Who are we?'

  'We're Jasweer's Sharks!' the crew shouted.

  Melcorka remembered hearing similar chants when her mother had first taken her to war against the Norse. Some things transcended cultures, races and continents. People were the same, despite outward differences.

  'I can't hear you,' Jasweer said. 'Who are we? Tell the Thiruzha!'

  'We are Jasweer's Sharks!' The crew called again. 'We are Jasweer's Sharks!'

  'Break out our battle flag!' Jasweer ordered and a lithe sailor hoisted a second flag from the stern of the loola. A red shark on a black background, the flag snarled defiance at the leopard of Thiruzha.

  The three Thiruzha scout ships spread out and headed toward Jasweer
's loola. Melcorka heard the rhythmic beat of the Thiruzha drums, repetitive, unhurried and sinister through the swish of the oars and the lap of the sea.

  'Helmsman!' Jasweer shouted from her position at the masthead. 'On my word, break to port.'

  'Aye, Captain.' The helmsman was a broad-chested, sturdy man with a small green turban and an expression of utter composure.

  The Thiruzha vessels were closing, rowing steadily through the long seas with their flag alternatively fluttering and sagging in the fluky breeze. A trio of seagulls screamed past, wings flapping and beaks open.

  'Helmsman…' Jasweer lifted her right hand, 'ready… ready… break now!'

  The helmsman shifted the tiller and the loola sliced to port as the oarsmen adjusted their rowing accordingly.

  'Archers! Man the starboard side!' Jasweer yelled. 'Wait for my command!'

  The loola had left two of the Thiruzha scouts astern and concentrated on the vessel on the left. As soon as that ship's captain realised that they would soon be fighting one-to-one without the support of his colleagues, he ordered his archers to fire. The captain's timing was flawed; the archers fired on a rising wave, and their irregular volley rose too high.

  'Two points to port!' Jasweer did not flinch as just three arrows hissed past her, two to rip into the sail and the third to thunk harmlessly onto the deck. 'Now, three points to starboard,' Jasweer ordered, as the enemy archers fired again. One of the Chola oarsmen yelled as an arrow lodged in his thigh. 'Take that man away,' Jasweer shouted. 'Replace him with a marine.'

  The two vessels closed, with the Thiruzha archers firing continually and their drummer increasing the beat.

  'Stand by to ram!' Jasweer shouted, when the loola closed to within fifty feet. 'Helmsman, port your helm. Archers… at the quarterdeck… now!'

  The loola veered, so her starboard side was parallel to the Thiruzha scout. Melcorka saw the straining faces of the Thiruzha crew, the row of bobbing skulls along her hull and the pot-bellied drummer hammering at his drum. Chained to their oars, the oarsmen could only stare up in miserable apathy.

  The Chola archers pulled back their bow-strings, aimed and fired a perfectly co-ordinated volley that peppered the quarterdeck of the Thiruzha craft. Melcorka saw the Thiruzha commander fall, with two arrows in his chest and another in his neck. One bolt slammed into the left leg of the Thiruzha helmsman, who staggered, but retained his post with bravery that deserved a better cause.

  'Hard a-starboard! One last pull! Up oars and ram!' The strengthened prow of the loola crashed into the starboard side of the Thiruzha scout, splintering three of her oars, killing a despairing oarsman and thrusting deep into the hull.

  'Marines! Board, fight and listen for my orders! Oarsmen, sit still!' Perched on the masthead, Jasweer yelled commands to her sharks.

  'Come on, Melcorka!' Drawing his sword, Kulothunga followed the Chola marines onto the deck of the scout. Melcorka slipped Defender out of her scabbard, relishing the familiar rush of power as she leapt into the midst of the Thiruzhas. The Chola archers continued to fire, concentrating on the Thiruzha officers on the scout's quarterdeck.

  The Chola marines had formed a wedge on the Thiruzha scout, cutting down everybody who stood in their path. They worked as a disciplined team, supporting each other in a systematic attack that no lone warrior could break.

  'These marines are good,' Melcorka said.

  'So am I!' Kulothunga shouted. His smile was even more extensive than normal as he vaulted over a dead Thiruzha oarsman to get in front of the Chola marines. Melcorka followed and stood at his left as the Thiruzha defenders rushed at them, roaring their battle cries.

  Two warriors opposed Melcorka, one with a stabbing spear, the other with sword and shield. Melcorka sliced sideways, chopped the spearman's arms off and, in a single fluid motion, parried the swing of the sword and thrust forward, with Defender's longer length giving her an advantage. The Thiruzha swordsman died without a sound, and Melcorka moved on, ignoring the slave oarsmen as she disposed of the desperate Thiruzha warriors.

  'I am Melcorka of Alba! Alba! Alba!'

  Out of the corner of her eye, Melcorka saw Kulothunga fighting in a controlled fury; killing and wounding without emotion save for his permanent smile. Melcorka nodded; Kulothunga was as good a fighting man as she had ever seen, fast and powerful, without any wasted energy.

  'You're good, Kulothunga!' Melcorka shouted.

  'I'm better than good.' Kulothunga gutted a warrior with a twist of his sword, sliced a spear in half and drew his blade across the spearman's chest. 'I'm the best. I am Kulothunga, the best the world has ever seen.'

  Dodging a wild swipe from a mace, Melcorka decapitated the wielder with a casual back-handed blow. 'I still admire your modesty, Kulothunga!'

  'Naturally you do.' Kulothunga ducked under the swing of a curved sword and chopped the man's legs off at the knees. 'You admire everything about me. Every warrior and every woman admires everything about me.'

  'Marines!' Jasweer's voice rose clear above the tumult of battle. 'Marines! Return to the ship! Return!'

  The Chola marines began a fighting withdrawal, one steady pace at a time, still fighting, still killing. Melcorka and Kulothunga glanced at each other.

  'Best be going,' Melcorka said. 'We don't wish to be left behind.'

  They withdrew with the marines, stepping on board the loola just as Jasweer gave the order for the oarsmen to 'back water before that vessel takes us down with it!'

  Jasweer's loola eased back into the sea, leaving the Thiruzha vessel a wreck, strewn with dead and wounded men. Greasy blood flowed from her deck into the sea, as water poured into her from the hole that Jasweer's loola had made. The scout tilted to the side and began to sink as, unable to escape, the slaves shrieked in despair.

  'You fought well, foreign woman,' Kulothunga said. 'Nearly as well as me.'

  'You fought well, too, Kulothunga,' Melcorka said. 'For a man.'

  They grinned at each other and simultaneously began to clean their swords as the Chola marines ordered their ranks and counted their casualties.

  'This is no time for a holiday!' Jasweer roared from the masthead. 'Oarsmen, double your strokes. Marines, ready your swords. Archers, as soon as the Thiruzha scouts come into range, fire at them. Aim for the quarterdeck and the oarsmen. Slow them down!'

  A further two Thiruzha scouts had joined the original vessels speeding toward Jasweer's Sharks, evidently intending revenge for the sinking of their sister. Melcorka scanned the seas. Thiruzha and Chola vessels were locked in combat to port, with ships speeding this way and that as Thiruzha scouts and Chola loolas skirmished, closed and parted in a confused melee.

  'Survivors in the water!' the lookout shouted.

  'Ours or theirs?' Jasweer asked.

  'Theirs!' the lookout said.

  'Ignore them. Row on!'

  The oarsmen bent to their oars, with some of the blades cracking on the heads of the frantic swimmers. When Thiruzha scouts came within range, the Sharks met them with disciplined fire. Arrows hummed through the air, to splash into the water or thrum against the timber of the respective hulls. One Chola oarsman gasped as an arrow landed on the haft of his oar. Another swore as an arrow sprouted in his arm. He stood up, and another arrow smacked into his side.

  'Marines! Take that man's place,' Jasweer ordered. 'Archers, keep firing!'

  A Chola dharani powered up. Longer, heavier and more powerful than the loola, its archers supported Jasweer's vessel with four times the loola's volume of arrows. Melcorka grunted approval as a Thiruzha scout veered sharply away, with its commander and helmsman lying dead on the quarterdeck.

  'Captain Jasweer!' the commander of the dharani shouted. 'Orders from Rajaraja. You have to delve as deep as you can into the Thiruzha fleet and then return.'

  Jasweer raised a hand in acknowledgement. 'Did you hear that, my sharp-toothed sharks? We are given the position of honour! We are to lead the attack and lure the Thiruzha pirates back to our h
eavy units! Jasweer's Sharks!'

  'Jasweer's Sharks!' Jasweer's crew roared. 'Lead on, Captain! Jasweer's Sharks!'

  'The Thiruzha know I am aboard,' Kulothunga said. 'Rajaraja is sending me to kill the enemy.' He pulled his shoulders even further back. 'He knows that they will be scared of me.'

  'That must be it,' Melcorka said. 'Even in Persia and China, they will know of Kulothunga's deeds.'

  'I suppose they do,' Kulothunga said.

  Jasweer looked down from the masthead. 'There are three Thiruzha scouts ahead and then a formation of their larger vessels. We are going to ignore the scouts and race for the larger ships. We'll fire on the closest, turn and run back to the fleet.' Jasweer paused as her crew contemplated her words. 'We might not all get back safely. We might all get killed. I do not know. All that I know is that we are Jasweer's Sharks and we will leave a name that will astonish the world.' She ended on a rising note that had the crew cheering. Even the wounded looked up from their beds of pain, to yell and shout once more.

  'Jasweer's Sharks! Jasweer's Sharks!' The crew chanted the slogan as Jasweer guided her loola toward the centre of the Thiruzha fleet. 'Jasweer's Sharks!'

  'Break out all the battle-flags!' Jasweer yelled. 'Let there be no mistake! Let the enemy know with whom they are dealing!'

  A further two huge flags exploded from the masts. One depicted the royal tiger of Chola. The other showed Jasweer's own red shark.

  'Jasweer's Sharks!' the crew yelled again, as the oarsmen hauled, powering the loola through the sea. As one of the Thiruzha scouts came close, the archers fired an accurate volley. Melcorka saw the arrows as a small dark cloud that seemed to hover in the air for a second, and then they sliced down on the enemy's quarterdeck. A chorus of yells and screams followed.

  'Good shooting,' Jasweer yelled. 'Now, target the oarsmen!'

  The arrows flew again, and two of the scout's oars jerked out of the water, showing that the oarsmen had been hit.

  'Keep firing,' Jasweer ordered, as the loola raced on. A few arrows buzzed back in return, and a marine fell without a sound as he was hit in the neck. His blood spouted in gradually receding jerks that stained the deck and drained into the scuppers.