Melcorka Of Alba

by Malcolm Archibald

  Dipping into the cabin, Melcorka opened her sea chest. Every object was redolent of her shared history with Bradan. Smiling, she removed her hooded cloak. Her foot skiffed something on the ground; she looked down and lifted up Bradan's rowan-wood stick.

  'You've travelled a long way. We'll get you home.' On an impulse, Melcorka tied the staff to Defender's scabbard. It was cumbersome, yet for some reason, she knew she should take it.

  Pulling on her cloak, Melcorka adjusted the shoulder to ensure that the thick wool concealed the hilt of Defender. 'That will have to do.' She patted Catriona's gunwale. 'We're not neglecting you,' she said. 'Either we'll come back for you, or you'll find a worthy owner in Jasweer.'

  Morning sunlight glared from the east, heating up the long walls of Kollchi and glinting from the helmets and spear-points of the defenders. Every hour, the catapults on the decks of the Chola thirisdais unleashed rocks that either hammered at the city walls, or arced over the battlements to crash on the streets inside. Melcorka waited for the next bombardment to start and then began to scale the walls. It was natural for men to take shelter when great rocks were hurtling through the air at them, so she was not disturbed. The possibility of being struck by a missile on such a long target as the walls of Kollchi was too remote to concern her.

  As Melcorka had expected, not a single man looked up to challenge her as she slipped over the battlements and down the inside of the walls. Camouflaged by her cloak and hood, Melcorka ignored both the sheltering warriors and the occasional falling rock as she made her way to the palace.

  The Kollchi catapults were also busy, loading and firing as they sought to reduce the Chola fleet, with slaves carrying the rocks to the great machines and the engineers firing them. Melcorka contemplated attacking one or two of the catapults to reduce the effectiveness of the defence, but decided that such an action would compromise her presence without seriously reducing the Kollchi defences. Once she had discovered what had happened to Bradan, she might help the Cholas.

  Despite the bombardment, two stalwart guards remained at their posts in front of the palace. One man flinched every time a rock landed close, while the other stared fixedly ahead as if in a trance.

  Melcorka ran to them, head down and panting. 'Please help.' She grabbed hold of the staring guard's sleeve. 'It's my mother. A missile hit our house, and she's trapped. Please, you must help me!'

  The guard pushed her away. 'I can't leave my post,' he said.

  'Please, sahib!' Melcorka approached the second, nervous guard. 'She's trapped and bleeding. I need help!'

  'I can't.' The man looked sympathetic, and Melcorka detected a decent human being beneath the Thiruzha uniform. 'I'm not allowed to.'

  'I'll get somebody else then.' Melcorka dashed past them into the palace. She knew the guards could not follow her and it was unlikely that they would report their failure to stop her. If they did, Bhim or Dhraji would probably order them to be thrown from the roof or chained to an elephant's foot.

  Striding through the corridors, Melcorka headed for the dungeons. The atmosphere of luxurious vice closed in on her, with the decadence of soft carpets and gold-fringed tapestries, peacock feathers and ornate windows only partially concealing the sickness beneath. As she strode, Melcorka thought of the austere winds of Alba and the rough straw beds of the kings and chiefs in Dunedin and the West. She felt a sudden longing for her homeland, with its plain speaking and homely fare, its brisk autumnal winds that lifted the brown leaves and the invigorating snows of winter.

  'I'll get you out of here, Bradan,' she promised. 'If you are still alive, I'll get you out.'

  With the memories of Alba renewing Melcorka's energy, she lengthened her stride, ignoring the stares of the scurrying servants. As she came close to the even more luxurious sector inhabited by Bhim and Dhraji, Melcorka began to step more warily. In any other building, she would have thought it strange that the rulers lived in such close proximity to the dungeons, but she knew Dhraji's love of others' suffering.

  The sound of voices drifted to her. Melcorka stopped. One voice was female – bright, deep and strangely alluring. The other belonged to Bradan, and he was laughing.

  Melcorka felt her heartbeat increase. Bradan was still alive, that was the most important thing, but, rather than being chained in some foul dungeon, he was free in the most sumptuous sector of the palace, and seemed to be enjoying himself. Emotions rushed through Melcorka, a mixture of relief and agonising doubt. Has Bradan willingly chosen to remain with Dhraji?

  Throwing back her cloak to allow herself easier access to Defender, Melcorka approached the door through which the voices came. When Bradan laughed again, Melcorka heard the clink of glass on glass, as if two people were toasting each other.

  'When you grabbed me like that,' Bradan said, 'I wondered what was going to happen.' He laughed openly. 'I thought you were going to tear my head off for being back with Melcorka!'

  The woman's melodious laugh tore at Melcorka's heart. 'Oh, no, Bradan, I just wanted you back where you belonged, with me.'

  'I'm delighted you did.' Bradan laughed again. 'I am no longer Bradan the Wanderer. Now, I am Bradan the Settled.'

  Melcorka pushed the door open a fraction and peered in. Bradan lounged full length on a settle, wearing baggy satin trousers and an open yellow top set with pearls. His red turban would have been quite fetching in different circumstances. Beside him sat Dhraji. She was strikingly beautiful, with transparent tight trousers hugging her shapely hips, while three strings of pearls highlighted the splendour of her naked breasts.

  Melcorka felt the breath catch in her throat. For a moment, she looked down in dismay at her body, still thin from her time in confinement, slim-hipped, battle-scarred in various places and dressed in old, serviceable clothes that hard wear had faded to an indistinguishable grey colour. Melcorka swallowed hard. What man would ever want her, when such a prize as the voluptuous Dhraji was available?

  When Bradan laughed again, lifted his glass and drank, a dribble of the ruby-red contents dripped onto his chin. Dhraji bent closer, wiped Bradan's chin clean with her fingertip and licked it clean.

  'You are immensely desirable, Dhraji.' Bradan's eyes were busy on her breasts.

  Melcorka opened the door wider. Midday sunlight seeping in from an ornate window caught the pearls that circled Dhraji's forehead and reflected on the strings of pearls around her hips. The leopard lay in the corner of the room, its head resting on its paws and its great yellow eyes watching everything.

  'Dance for me.' Bradan leaned back on his couch, smiling. 'Dance for me, Dhraji, as you used to do.'

  Placing her glass on an ebony table, Dhraji began to dance, with her hips wriggling suggestively as she rotated her breasts toward Bradan. The strings of pearls rippled and bounced, enhancing the sensuousness of her movements. Even Melcorka could feel the sexual tension in the atmosphere, while Bradan's breathing hardened as he watched her.

  'That will do, I think.' Melcorka pushed into the room. 'We have unfinished business, Dhraji.'

  Dhraji's laugh was high-pitched. 'You have no business here, Melcorka of Alba.'

  'Bradan,' Melcorka spoke quietly. 'You have a choice now. You can bid a fond farewell to Dhraji and walk out the door with me, or you can remain with the rakshasa until I kill her.'

  Bradan looked from one woman to the other. Melcorka saw the expression in his eyes as they focussed on Dhraji's curves and then switched to her own stringy flanks. On an impulse, Melcorka threw back her cloak. She heard Dhraji's laugh as Bradan smiled in derision.

  'Your man seems hesitant to choose you, Melcorka,' Dhraji sneered. 'He prefers a woman to a…' she hesitated, 'to whatever you are, a creature without either shape, form or grace.'

  'Choose, Bradan.' Melcorka blocked out Dhraji's taunts.

  Bradan lifted his glass again. 'There is no choice to make,' he said.

  'This may help you decide.' Freeing Bradan's staff, Melcorka balanced it in her hand and tossed it across to him.
It landed on the carpet with a soft thud.

  'A length of stick?' Bradan allowed the staff to lie at his feet.

  'That staff supported you from the coast of Alba, to Greenland and down the Mississippi River,' Melcorka reminded him.

  'It is only a length of stick to me now,' Bradan said. 'It might be useful as firewood for the cool nights.' Dhraji echoed his loud laugh.

  'You will remember the seer who gave it to you,' Melcorka said.

  'Of course,' Bradan said.

  'And you will remember that it is made from rowan wood, which repels evil.' Melcorka continued. 'It has the cross of St Columba on the tip.'

  Melcorka felt a perceptible tautening of the atmosphere as Bradan looked at Dhraji. Picking the staff up, Melcorka thrust the cross towards Bradan, who backed slightly away.

  'Take your staff, Bradan,' Melcorka urged. 'Take it if you dare.'

  'I don't want it,' Bradan said.

  'Why not?' Melcorka took another step forward. 'It's yours.'

  Bradan glanced at Dhraji, as if for support.

  'You choose her, do you?' Melcorka dropped the staff. 'Well, Hell mend you then!' In a surge of anger, Melcorka threw the staff onto the carpet, drew Defender and, in one quick movement, sliced off Bradan's head.

  'Now you!' Melcorka whirled around with Defender held ready.

  The room was empty except for the teetering corpse of Bradan. Even the leopard had gone. 'Dhraji! Come and fight!'

  There was no response. Still holding Defender at the ready, Melcorka knelt beside Bradan's body. 'You look like Bradan.' Ignoring the still-spouting blood from the headless trunk, she opened his top. 'You feel like Bradan, but you're no more Bradan than I am.'

  What had she been told? She could not kill the rakshasas, even when they took human form, but humans had to be alive for the humans to take their shape. Bradan was still alive, somewhere.

  Now, where would my Bradan be? Lifting the staff, Melcorka slipped it into Defender's scabbard. I know that Dhraji is a rakshasa, and as another rakshasa took Bradan's place, there are at least two to worry about. One is bad enough. Melcorka shook her head and repeated what Bearnas had said. Use the steel from the west bathed in the water from the north to defeat the evil from the south when the sun sets in the east. What does that mean?

  Holding Defender in front of her, Melcorka pushed out of the room with her mind working overtime. I came from a long way west of here, and so does Defender, so my sword could be the steel from the west. Yes, that makes sense. That's one part of the riddle.

  Melcorka circled, checking all around. The corridors were eerily empty, not even a servant in sight, with the tapestries moving in a slight breeze. The evil from the south must mean Dhraji and her cohorts. That is two. Melcorka crouched at a sudden sound and held Defender ready, only for a cat to scurry from an open door, look at her in evident alarm, turn and run again.

  Melcorka shook her head to free it from sweat. What does the water from the north mean? And the sun setting in the east? The sun never sets in the east.

  Running down the corridor, she checked each doorway in case Dhraji or the other rakshasa was waiting for her. The palace seemed deserted. With no servants and no guards, every sound was magnified. Melcorka's realised that her breathing was ragged and her grip on Defender was slippery with perspiration; her nerves were jangling.

  The door was round-headed and studded with iron. About to kick it open, Melcorka instead pushed it with Defender. She gave it only the slightest touch, and it swung violently open.

  The warriors rushed from behind the door, yelling. Melcorka took a single step back to gain more space, and met the leading man with a sharp thrust to the throat that stopped him dead. With the space in the corridor limited, the next two warriors could not push past, so Melcorka finished off the first man, ducked down and held Defender like a spear as the second man jumped over the body of his late companion.

  Judging her time until the second warrior was at the apex of his leap, Melcorka thrust upward. Defender sliced open both femoral arteries. Leaving the man to bleed to death, Melcorka followed through with a sideways slash that sliced off the sword arm of the third warrior. The remainder fled.

  'Fight me!' Melcorka yelled.

  The road to the dungeons was clear. Melcorka stepped onto the stairs, gagged at the familiar stench and moved on. 'Bradan! Bradan are you down there?'

  Only the echoes of her voice answered, fading into sullen silence.

  Melcorka descended into the dark, step after step, wary, alert, knowing every second was vital. The moment she reached the bottom level, a deep voice sounded: 'Here she is!'

  A dozen torches flared into life, nearly blinding Melcorka with the sudden glare.

  'Good evening, Melcorka nic Bearnas.' Distorted by echoes, the voice came from somewhere beyond the circle of light.

  Melcorka turned, holding Defender in front of her, expecting an instant attack. The torches flickered, spiralling smoke into the already foetid air. Still partially blinded by the sudden light, Melcorka circled, waiting. 'Where is Bradan?'

  'You have killed him,' the voice echoed from beyond the flames.

  'I killed an image that looked like him.' Melcorka narrowed her eyes, waiting. 'Where is Bradan?'

  The laughter was not unexpected, coming from two, three, a dozen, a score, a hundred throats.

  'Fight me,' Melcorka invited. 'Fight me. I am Melcorka of Alba, fight me or run.'

  The laughter continued, louder, filling the space between the flaring torches, filling Melcorka's head, threatening to overwhelm her thoughts. 'Where is Bradan?'

  'Where is Bradan? Where is Bradan?' Melcorka's words repeated themselves, echoing round the chamber and around her head, mocking her, taunting her, frustrating her.

  'No!' Melcorka shouted. 'You're not playing with my mind!' Rushing forward, she crouched low and swept Defender in a great arc. The blade sliced through the nearest torches, causing them to fall, leaving an angle of darkness into which Melcorka stepped. 'Bradan!' she shouted. 'Bradan, are you there?'

  The laughter continued. Melcorka swung again, cutting through the tall stakes on which the torches stood, felling them, so they rolled and spat on the filthy slabs of the floor. Lifting this final remaining torch with her left hand, Melcorka peered into the smoky dark.

  'Who is there?'

  The echo of her voice slowly faded.

  'Bradan!' Melcorka paced through the dungeons, pushing open doors, staring into the stinking cells. Some held chained captives who looked up with terrified eyes; others held decomposing bodies, or peeled skeletons that had once been living human beings. Some cells were empty except for rusted chains and a seething mass of insects.

  There was no sign of Bradan.

  In the last dungeon, a tall man glared up as Melcorka pushed open the door. 'You may as well kill me, you thing!'

  'I know that voice.' Melcorka could not conceal her surprise. 'Kulothunga! How in Shiva's name did they capture you?'

  'Melcorka? Have you joined the rakshasa? Or are you a rakshasa that looks like Melcorka?' Kulothunga sat up, grabbed a handful of chain and swung it. 'Come on and try me!'

  'No, Kulothunga, I am real. Is there a way out of these chains?'

  'There is a catch, out of my reach.' Kulothunga said. 'Over there by the door.'

  'I see it.' Melcorka wrestled with the bolt and pushed it open.

  Kulothunga's chains fell open. Naked as a baby, he stood up, stretched and groaned. 'How long have I been a prisoner?'

  'Not long,' Melcorka said. 'I spoke to you only yesterday.'

  'Yesterday?' Kulothunga had lost a great deal of weight, his cheeks were sunken and a weeks-old beard covered his face. 'I've been here for days!'

  'In the name!' Melcorka shook her head. 'When did the rakshasas capture you?'

  'When I fought the monster in the sea,' Kulothunga said.

  'As far back as that?' Melcorka thought of the times she had spoken to Kulothunga since. 'A rakshasa has taken yo
ur place. Your amorous advances were not real then.' She grunted. 'I was quite flattered.'

  'What?' Kulothunga looked puzzled.

  'Never mind.' Melcorka pushed the thought away. 'I am searching for Bradan. The rakshasas took him as well.'

  'I have not seen him,' Kulothunga said. 'I've seen nobody except the jailers.'

  'Bradan might be dead by now.'

  At first, Melcorka did not see the man who spoke. The voice came from beyond the circle of light her torch created. 'Who said that?'

  'I did, Melcorka.' Kosala stood four-square and unafraid in the centre of the dungeons.

  'How did you get in here?'

  'I followed you,' Kosala said. 'I would follow you anywhere and everywhere, Melcorka.'

  'So here we are,' Melcorka said. 'Three warriors together within the heart of Dhraji's realm, and neither of us can kill the rakshasa.'

  'I tried and failed,' Kulothunga said.

  'As did I. Kosala, tell me what you know about Bradan.' Melcorka did not comment on Kosala's bravery or loyalty. She would address both qualities later.

  'The rakshasas no longer need him.' Blood dripped from Kosala's sword onto the stone slabs. 'You killed his rakshasa image, so Dhraji can no longer use his body.'

  'Where do you think he is?' Melcorka tried to cut through the explanations.

  'The rakshasas will have taken him to the great square,' Kosala said. 'Bradan will be kissing the feet of an elephant any time now.'

  'Kissing the elephant's feet!' Melcorka was running before Kosala finished speaking. Bounding up the stairs three at a time, she did not respond to the challenge of the single Thiruzha warrior, but pushed past without a word. She heard Kosala dealing with the man as she raced through the corridors of the palace and into the streets outside.

  The humid heat of late afternoon greeted her, accompanied by the stinks and noise of the city. Melcorka ignored the occasional rock that crashed down from the bombardment that she had all but forgotten. The squabble between Thiruzha and the Chola Empire was no longer her concern. Only Bradan mattered.

  'I am no good to anybody like this.' Kulothunga had followed. He looked down at himself. 'A naked man with no weapon is no threat to the rakshasas.'