Melcorka Of Alba

by Malcolm Archibald

  'It's a rakshasa.' Jasweer spoke as calmly as if she was talking about a cloud in the sky. 'Marines! Line the bulwarks, cut off these tentacles the second they touch our ship. Spearmen and archers, you can't miss that target!'

  'I like this woman.' Stepping to the bulwark, Melcorka drew Defender.

  'So do I.' Bradan lifted a spear from the deck.

  'Oh, you would,' Melcorka said. 'You would like anything female, even if it has tentacles and a sharp red beak.'

  'You've been looking in the mirror again.' Bradan followed Melcorka with his heart hammering inside his chest.

  'Rajaraja!' Jasweer shouted. 'Get below deck. It's not much protection, but you'll be a bit safer here. That big lump of a bodyguard can look after you.'

  'I'm not hiding when my people are in danger,' Rajaraja said. 'You concentrate on working your ship, Captain.'

  The rakshasa shifted through the water with its tentacles spread out like a spider's web.

  'We can't get past it,' Jasweer said, 'so let's go through it. Let's see how it likes a fully-laden loola smashing into it at full speed. Put your muscles to work, boys! We'll ram the thing.' She glared at Rajaraja. 'Get below when I order you! On this ship, I am in command!'

  Melcorka touched Bradan's arm. 'Stay with the raja, Bradan. Don't let him leave the hold unless the ship goes down.'

  'Be careful, Mel!' Bradan shouted, as Melcorka dashed forward.

  Melcorka felt the usual surge of power as she held Defender, mixed with a new sensation of trepidation. She did not know how this fight would turn out. She had failed to kill the demon on two previous encounters, so why should this one be any different? Try again! If Kulothunga can kill it, so can I.

  'Come on, you foul beast!' Placing herself in the bow with the wind tossing her hair and Defender held two-handed in front of her, Melcorka stared into the shield-sized eyes of the rakshasa.

  The worst thing I can do is allow the rakshasa to know I am nervous. Predators can sense fear; it gives them strength and emboldens them. So do the unexpected! Unsettle this monster about which I know so little.

  Lifting her head, Melcorka pointed to the rakshasa and forced a laugh. 'Join in, lads! Laugh. Bullies don't like getting mocked!'

  Some of the crew joined in, but most were too preoccupied with their own affairs to waste their breath. The rakshasa seemed unmoved.

  Melcorka balanced on the prow of the loola, holding Defender above her head. 'I am Melcorka of Alba,' she roared, 'and who dare meddle with me!'

  'I dare!' The words formed in her mouth, a deep, clear threat to her very existence.

  'Come on then, you demon from hell!' Melcorka challenged. 'Come and face me.'

  The rakshasa's laugh was as sinister as anything Melcorka had ever heard.

  'Get off the prow, you blasted fool!' Jasweer shouted. 'When we ram, the shock will knock you down!'

  That made sense. Melcorka leapt down an instant before the loola crashed into the rakshasa. She had expected an intense jar that would shake the masts and send people to the deck; instead, the loola sank into the dense, rubbery mass that was the creature's body, without any apparent damage to either side.

  Jumping back onto the prow, Melcorka slashed with Defender, hoping to cleave slices off the rakshasa to reach something vital. Two tentacles curled around her, one grasping at her legs, the other at her neck. Altering the angle of her attack, Melcorka hacked at the tentacles, slicing them apart before returning her attention to the body of the beast.

  In the time it had taken Melcorka to dismember the tentacles, the rakshasa had reared closer to her, with the open beak revealing a deep black chasm that seemed to extend forever. Recoiling in disgust at the rakshasa's stench, Melcorka plunged Defender into the mouth, hoping to strike something vital.

  'There, you foul beast!'

  There was nothing to strike. The blade of Defender entered a blank space, darkness without end that sucked at Melcorka, so that she teetered on the edge of oblivion. She recovered with difficulty, stared into the black void and slashed sideways. Defender made contact with something that trapped the blade, holding it close. Cursing, Melcorka struggled to pull her sword free.

  'What does it feel like to lose a fight, Melcorka?' The words taunted her, eroding her self-confidence, corroding her strength. 'How does defeat sound in your ears?'

  'I am not interested in the possibility of defeat!' Melcorka shouted. 'It does not exist!'

  The rakshasa's laughter mocked her. 'There is more than one way to lose, Melcorka the Swordswoman, Melcorka of the Cenel Bearnas, Melcorka of Alba, Melcorka, the lover of Bradan.'

  The mention of Bradan brought new fear to Melcorka. 'This fight is between you and me, demon!'

  The laughter sounded again, tearing at Melcorka's sanity as it wound around her like a living thing, penetrating her mind, until she could think of nothing except the mocking sound and the void that invited her to sink down and down forever into the bottomless chasm that was the interior of the rakshasa.

  'Oh naivety, thy name is human, thy errors are in believing you can ever defeat me. Your weakness is my strength, Melcorka.'

  Shaking her head to dislodge the words and sounds that confused her brain, Melcorka slashed sideways with Defender. There was no contact and nothing to see except eternal blackness as the rakshasa seemed to envelop her, encompassing her within its beak as its tentacles writhed around, coiling and uncoiling, searching and grasping, taking and tearing. Each tentacle was armed with a dozen circlets of ragged teeth that ripped into Melcorka's skin, worried the flesh and bore deeper into her muscle.

  'You can be defeated!' Melcorka yelled. 'I can defeat you!'

  With the words, Melcorka heard, faint but distinct, the sharp piping of an oystercatcher, her totem bird. 'Mother?'

  The black-and-white bird appeared momentarily, circled sunwise around Melcorka and flew to her right. Unhesitatingly, Melcorka followed, striding into the darkness with Defender held before her like a lance. Two steps and she was back on the solid deck of the loola with the wind in her hair and the writhing monstrosity of the rakshasa before her.

  'Now I see you!' Melcorka shouted, slashing with Defender, so two more of the creature's tentacles parted and fell. 'I will kill you piece by piece!'

  The jeering laughter was so loud that Melcorka winced. It was a sound like no other as it boomed within her head, dominating all thought. She struck out, circling Defender around her head and then thrusting in front of her.

  'Look, Melcorka. Look who I have!'

  The rakshasa's voice jerked from her mind. With a sick slide of dismay, Melcorka saw the creature withdrawing into the water, with one derisive tentacle raised in mocking farewell. The tentacle was coiled around Bradan.

  Chapter Nineteen

  'No! Bradan!' Shouting his name, Melcorka jumped into the water, desperate to recapture her man. She was too late. The rakshasa had already vanished, sliding into the depths from whence it had come.

  'Bradan!' Melcorka yelled again, took a lungful of air, thrust Defender before her and dived as deep as she could. She could see nothing of the rakshasa, only the clear water and a few scurrying fish. Melcorka dived until she felt her lungs would explode, frantic in her searching, swimming until faintness forced her to surface.

  Gasping, Melcorka glanced frantically from side to side. There was no sign of Bradan, and Jasweer's loola was two hundred yards away, sailing for the fleet. The safety of Rajaraja was more important than that of a stray foreign warrior. Gasping, Melcorka returned to the depths, swimming until she could swim no more and still finding nothing. She surfaced, took a deep breath, dived again, searched and surfaced, dived, searched and surfaced, gagging, with her limbs aching and the breath burning in her chest. She was finished; she could not swim any longer, but she would not give up.

  'Is that you, Melcorka?' Kosala leaned over the side of a small boat. 'You can't swim about all day.' He extended a hand. 'In you come.'

  Gasping, Melcorka allowed Kosala to help
her into the boat. 'The rakshasa grabbed Bradan.' She looked up. Banduka and Chaturi were also in the boat, shaking their heads in sympathy.

  'May Shiva help him,' Chaturi said quietly. 'Don't give up hope, Melcorka. The rakshasa might not kill him. Bradan survived Dhraji's captivity before. He can do the same again.'

  'I hope so,' Melcorka said. 'I must save him.'

  'It might be too late,' Kosala said. 'Don't expect too much, Melcorka.'

  'I must save him,' Melcorka repeated. 'Take me to the fleet.'

  'We'll come, too.' Kosala touched his sword. 'I want to fight the Thiruzha.'

  The demon's laughter rebounded within Melcorka's head, cruel in its mockery.

  * * *

  Rajaraja's admirals and marine commanders sat around a low table in his state cabin, with large moths fluttering around the lanterns. A sentry propped the door open to allow free passage to a cooling breeze.

  'We all saw how strong the defences of Kalipuram Island are. If we pass in daylight, we'll lose ships and men from their catapults and archers, while that chain boom virtually closes one of the two channels. If we go in at night, we will not see the rocks and other hazards, and the Kalipuram archers and catapults will know exactly where we are.'

  The assembled men nodded agreement.

  'Are there any suggestions?'

  Kulothunga stamped both feet on the deck. 'Use a third of the fleet to keep the fort busy while the rest push through.'

  'That might be the best way,' Rajaraja said. 'However, I don't like the idea of splitting our fleet to such an extent, or of sacrificing men in what is little more than a diversion.'

  Melcorka sat in a corner, sharpening Defender. 'Take the island first,' she said softly. 'Send the marines to assault the place at night and neutralise the defences.' She ran her whetstone up the blade of her sword, the sound strangely sinister in the crowded cabin. 'Kill them. Kill them all.'

  'We don't know the make-up of the defences,' a marine commander pointed out. 'The last time we tried to attack Kalipuram, the defenders beat us back. We lost two hundred men. I'm not sending my men to certain death.'

  Kosala had slipped in beside Melcorka. 'I know some of the defences.'

  'Who are you?' Rajaraja asked.

  'Kosala of Ceylon. I was a slave on Kalipuram.'

  The marine commanders grunted. 'A Singhalese pearl diver. What would he know of military matters?'

  'Kosala is a warrior,' Melcorka said. 'He helped us escape from the Thiruzha.'

  Smoothing his fingers over his moustache, Kulothunga eyed Kosala up and down. 'Do the Singhalese have any warriors?'

  'He is as good a warrior as any I have ever met.' Melcorka was no longer inclined to humour Kulothunga's ego.

  'Let him speak,' Rajaraja said.

  When Kosala approached the table, Melcorka was surprised that he did not appear nervous when talking to such a high-profile group.

  'I helped build some of the defences.' Kosala gave a wry smile. 'Not by choice.'

  'Tell us,' Rajaraja ordered.

  Kosala salaamed in Rajaraja's direction. 'There are two concentric walls with archers and spearmen on the front row and catapults and a huge crossbow further back. They also have facilities to launch fire-burning missiles.'

  The marine commanders paid close attention as Kosala drew a quick sketch of the walls and the barracks inside the fort.

  'Are there any weak spots?' the one-eyed Admiral asked.

  'No,' Kosala said. 'The defenders can cover every approach to the walls. Every member of the garrison is covered by at least two others.'

  'Is there anywhere in the fort that is not defended?' Melcorka asked. 'A water culvert, perhaps, or even a latrine?'

  Kosala shook his head. 'Not that I know of. The walls rise sheer from the cliff. Nobody can climb them.'

  Melcorka looked up sharply, tested the blade of Defender and slid it into its scabbard.

  'How does the garrison enter the fort?' the one-eyed Admiral asked.

  'There is only one gate,' Kosala said. 'The Seagate, at the lee side of the island, the side closest to the land and that is only opened when a Thiruzha vessel approaches.'

  'What is the gate made of? How is it opened?' Melcorka asked, as the germ of an idea entered her mind. 'How do the ships enter?'

  'The gate is of long iron strips, riveted together,' Kosala said, 'similar to the gate at Rajgana but many times larger. There is a permanent watch from a guardhouse immediately beside the gate.'

  'How is the gate opened?' Melcorka repeated.

  'There must be a mechanism within the guardhouse.' Kosala said. 'I do not know how to operate it.'

  'A pity, but that cannot be helped,' Melcorka said. 'Next, how do the boats enter?'

  Rajaraja held up a hand as one of the admirals tried to interrupt. 'Let him talk,' Rajaraja ordered.

  Kosala continued. 'There is a gap in the cliff that leads to a small harbour within the fort. The slaves are constantly enlarging and improving the anchorage.'

  'How many men are in the guardhouse?' Melcorka shot out her questions.

  Kosala screwed up his face. 'I was never in there. Maybe a dozen men.'

  'Warriors? Or just garrison troops?' Melcorka's idea grew by the minute.

  'I don't know,' Kosala said, honestly.

  Melcorka nodded and addressed the gathering. 'Do you gentlemen have any plan to pass this island?'

  Rajaraja nodded. 'I can think of only one answer. We launch a full frontal assault just before dawn on the eastern side, so the rising sun is in the defenders' eyes. As the sun rises, it will give us light to see by. We'll need scaling ladders, but our carpenters can knock them up in half an hour.'

  'If I can get the Seagate open, can you bring in a couple of loolas in the dark?' Melcorka broke in.

  'Your Singhalese friend told us that the gate's well guarded,' Kulothunga said.

  'If I can get it open,' Melcorka repeated, too focused on her plan to listen to any negatives, 'could you get a couple of loolas in?'

  Rajaraja lifted a hand to stop the immediate outcry from the commanders. 'If you could get the gate open, I would send in a couple of loolas.'

  'I need one volunteer warrior,' Melcorka said.

  Although Kulothunga looked up, Kosala spoke first.

  'That's me,' Kosala said.

  'He's Singhalese,' a hard-eyed marine said. 'I'll find you an experienced Tamil you can trust, or you can take Kulothunga.'

  'I'll trust Kosala,' Melcorka said. 'I'll trust him to follow my instructions. Kulothunga is too much his own man. Kulothunga would be a rival, doing what he thought best rather than carrying out my plan.' She grinned at the warrior. 'In an open battle, there is nobody I would rather have at my side than Kulothunga. In the expedition I have in mind, I would like Bradan or Kosala.'

  Rajaraja had listened intently. Now, he nodded. 'I understand. What do you need?'

  Melcorka thought for only a moment. 'I want a long, knotted rope with a grapnel hook at one end, and I want to borrow Jasweer's Sharks for an hour.'

  'Why?' Again, Rajaraja raised a hand to stop the babble of sound. 'Silence!'

  'I need a loola to take Kosala and me closer to the island,' Melcorka said, 'then we'll swim the final few hundred yards. Jasweer is one of the best mariners I have ever met.'

  'Send for Jasweer.' Rajaraja lifted a finger.

  Kulothunga leaned against the bulkhead, saying nothing as he stroked the hilt of his sword. When his gaze strayed to Kosala, his eyes were like acid.

  * * *

  Jasweer was experienced in clandestine operations. First, she unshipped her mast to alter the profile of her loola. 'All you Sharks,' she ordered, 'wear dark clothing. Muffle the oars. Blacken everything metallic. I don't want the gleam of moonshine on steel to give us away.'

  The Sharks obeyed with a will, trusting their captain.

  'Don't whisper, when we're out there,' Jasweer said. 'Whispering can be a strain. If you must speak, use a low tone. Row gently. If anybody
catches a crab, I will personally keelhaul him.'

  'Drop us off a hundred yards offshore,' Melcorka said.

  'There will be no swimming, Melcorka,' Jasweer said quietly. 'We'll take you right up to the base of the island in this foolish adventure.'

  'Thank you,' Melcorka said.

  'Don't thank me,' Jasweer said. 'I don't like you. To me, you are a foreign mercenary involving yourself in a war that's none of your damned business.'

  'I don't like you, either.' Melcorka adjusted Defender more comfortably across her back. 'To me, you are a big-headed, bad-tempered sea-pirate.'

  The two women considered each other in a mutual respect neither would acknowledge.

  'So why are you doing this?' Jasweer asked.

  'I want to win this war that's none of my damned business.' Melcorka said. 'Not that I give a rat's tail for the glories of your empire, but because our mutual enemy Dhraji has got my man and I want him back.'

  'Bradan?' Jasweer grunted. 'He'll be dead by now.'

  'That is possible,' Melcorka said. She knew that Defender would not fight for revenge. If Bradan was dead, she could not avenge him; however, she was fighting for the cause of right over wrong, good over evil – or so she hoped.

  Was the cause of any expanding empire ever good? Was it ever right for one state or nation or culture to spread their ideas and political domination over other, weaker neighbours?

  Melcorka shook her head. She could discuss such philosophies with Bradan. It was to determine such ideas that he walked the dusty roads of the world to seek out learned men and women. She was Melcorka the Swordswoman. She followed the way of the sword, not the insight of the mind.

  Is that all I am? A wandering killer?

  The black-and-white bird perched on the gunwale of the loola, its long red beak pointing toward her and its eyes far too intelligent for any bird.

  'You are thinking deep thoughts, Melcorka.'

  'Mother!' Melcorka hissed. 'Not now! I am busy.'

  The oystercatcher metamorphosed into Bearnas, Melcorka's mother. 'I know how busy you are, Melcorka.' She smiled at her daughter. 'It's all right, nobody can see or hear me. These good people will think you are praying, which you are, in a way. After all, I am dead.'