Falcon Warrior (The Swordswoman Book 3)

by Malcolm Archibald

  'I can fight at any time,' Erik stood up and took hold of his sword hilt. 'I can finish my meal when your head is lying in the dirt.'

  'So be it.'

  They stormed out of the hall side by side, with neither man giving space to the other so their shoulders bumped in the doorway. Being heavier, Ragnog knocked Erik aside, much to the glee of his supporters, who shouted anew at this example of their champion's superior strength.

  'Ragnog will gut the young pup!' A one-eyed man shouted.

  'I wager two slave girls that he kills Erik quickly.' The speaker was middle-aged, with a short sword at his belt and the beginnings of a paunch.

  'I'll take that bet,' a dapper young blond named Sigurd said. 'Erik is too fast for the old man.'

  'Do you have two slave girls?' The paunchy man asked.

  'I have three!' Sigurd boasted.

  'Then wager them all; if you have faith!' The paunchy man looked for support from his peers and then roared with laughter as Sigurd stuttered that he had to keep one for himself.

  'Outside then, and let's watch the boastful young pup cut to size,' the paunchy man roared, and led the rush to the door.

  With the men at the forefront of the ring that quickly formed, the Norsemen bayed for their favourite as Erik and Ragnog stood a few paces apart. Erik drew his sword and threw away the scabbard in a gesture so dramatic his supporters cheered anew.

  'I have thrown away my scabbard,' he shouted. 'I won't pick it up until Ragnog welters in his own intestines.'

  'In that case, it will lie useless for ever,' Ragnog lifted a huge axe, took a practice swing and faced Erik. 'I will kill you quickly, Erik, not for your own sake, but to spare your mother the grief of watching her son suffer.'

  'Now watch and learn,' Bradan murmured. 'You may have to fight either of these men at some time. Observe their strengths and weaknesses.'

  'Thank you, Bradan, for your advice.' Melcorka did not mean to sound sarcastic.

  There was no finesse in Ragnog's attack. He charged with a roar, swinging his axe as if he was trying to chop wood. Erik withdrew rapidly, dodging the blade and poking ineffectually with his sword. Neither man made contact.

  'My slave girls are safe,' the paunchy man shouted. 'Erik does not have the stomach for a fight.'

  'You have too much stomach for a warrior,' Sigurd said. 'Be careful that nobody cuts it off.'

  Erik lifted his sword again and stepped into the middle of the ring. He looked worried.

  'Breath deep, boy,' Ragnog balanced his axe across his shoulders. 'For these breaths will be your last.' He stepped forward more slowly before unleashing a mighty downward swing. Rather than waiting for the blow, Erik backed hurriedly away with his sword raised to parry. The elder half of the crowd cheered while the younger looked sulky.

  'Sigurd: do you not wish to increase that belt to three slave girls?' The paunchy man yelled. 'Or I will take that handsome young boy you have as well; except you would miss him too much!'

  Sigurd said nothing. He grabbed hold of the hilt of his knife and glared at the paunchy man, who laughed loudly.

  'If you dare, boy; if you dare.'

  'That stroke would have cut Erik in half.' Bradan said. 'If it had landed.'

  'It did not land,' Melcorka looked away. 'There is little to learn here; an old brawler and a boy with no will to fight.'

  'It is not finished yet,' Bradan said. 'We may be surprised.'

  Ragnog charged again, this time swinging his axe from side to side in a succession of controlled sweeps that would have gutted Erik had he not dropped to the ground and rolled away. The older man turned with a surprising show of speed, lunged at Erik and missed so the axe thudded into the soil. For a second he struggled to free it while the younger men yelled for Erik to strike while Ragnog was helpless. Instead, Erik stepped back with his sword held upright.

  'Kill him!' Sigurd shouted. 'He would kill you!'

  'I will not kill a helpless man,' Erik said.

  'You are a fool!' The younger men responded while Melcorka nodded.

  'He is a statesman,' she said. 'If he killed Ragnog when he was unable to retaliate, the older men would say it was a foul blow.'

  'You like him, I think.' Bradan said.

  'I am growing to dislike him less,' Melcorka agreed. She could feel Bradan's gaze on her.

  'Some may think him cute,' Bradan reminded.

  'And others may take offence at a word with no meaning.'

  Ragnog freed his axe and stepped back. 'You are indeed a fool, Erik,' he said. 'In war, only a fool does not take advantage of his enemy's weakness.'

  For the first time, Erik advanced. He stepped forward, slowly at first and then with increasing speed, thrusting with his sword. Ragnog swung his axe so the two blades clattered together, and then the men closed. Knowing he was the lighter by some distance, Erik slid his left foot at the back of Ragnog's knee and then pushed. It was not a hard push but enough to unbalance Ragnog. With Erik's foot behind his knee, he fell and sprawled on his back. The look on his face was comical as he dropped his axe and lay there, swearing mightily.

  'That was a nice move,' Melcorka said as the crowd roared for Ragnog's blood.

  Then Erik hesitated. Rather than finish Ragnog off, he looked upward to his mother, eyebrows raised as if he was asking her permission to kill his opponent. Seeing his weakness, Ragnog kicked upward mightily, catching Erik on the thigh and with the force of the blow twisting him sideways.

  Rolling to his feet, Ragnog swung sideways with his axe, only to find that Erik was not there. Either the pain of the kick had angered him, or he had finally decided that he had to win this contest, but he fell to the ground, rolled once and lunged upward with his sword.

  The blade plunged into Ragnog's belly. Erik sliced it sideways so the older man's intestines slipped out in a pink and white mess. Standing, and with his sword still inside Ragnog, Erik slid the blade upward.

  'At last, you have learned how to fight!' Ragnog said, with his insides piling onto the ground at his feet. 'You are a man after all. Make your father proud, Erik!' He crumpled and died without another word.

  Frakkok nodded once. 'You took your time to defeat an old man,' she said. 'Next time, don't be so slow. You did not deserve that victory.' She turned away and returned to the great hall.

  'Aye; nothing will shake a mother's love,' Bradan said.

  Melcorka nodded. 'Erik tried to show compassion. I respect that.'

  Chapter Seven

  'We will take one ship,' Erik said. 'And thirty men. That is a large enough party to fight and small enough not to starve. We will carry food enough for three months.'

  The men at the table nodded. Since his victory over Ragnog, Erik had earned the respect of even some of the older men while the younger followed him without question.

  'I want volunteers,' Erik said. 'And I will choose those I think best fitted for the journey. I want only one old man, one with experience of voyaging and skill in battle tactics. The rest will be young, fit and eager.'

  'And loyal to himself,' Melcorka murmured to Bradan. 'Erik is no fool; he does not want some old warrior who was a friend of Ragnog to stab him in the back.'

  Bradan tapped his staff on the floor and said nothing.

  'This will be a hard journey; we do not know where it will end,' Erik said. 'I want only the best. Every man will carry a sword or an axe, plus a shield and spear. Every third man will be an archer, with at least five score arrows.'

  The men nodded without hesitation.

  'I want two tarpaulins for bad weather and clothes against the ice. I want dried meat for the voyage and a lodestone for navigation.'

  'You want a lot,' Frakkok interrupted. 'You are making more preparations for the voyage of one ship than your father made when he led a fleet to attack Northumberland!'

  For a second Erik was quiet and Melcorka thought he would crumble before his mother's criticism but instead, he retaliated. 'Father was only fighting one minor English kingdom. We are g
oing against an entire Empire.'

  Melcorka saw the slight gleam of satisfaction in Frakkok's dark eyes as she leaned back in her seat.

  Erik looked up. 'Bradan… Melcorka. Are you coming with us? Or do you have your own quest to follow?'

  'I am coming,' Bradan said. 'They call me Bradan the Wanderer and this is as good a direction in which to wander as any other.' His smile was slow. 'I wish to see this empire that sends out emissaries to Ice kings yet ignores settlements such as yours.'

  'And you Melcorka?'

  'I am coming.' Melcorka did not mention the vision that still haunted her from the time she donned the head-band. 'Bradan and I have our own boat.'

  'You call her Catriona.' Arne, young and eager to prove himself, scoffed. 'That is no name for a warship! We are in Sea Serpent!' His laugh found some support from his colleagues.

  'Catriona has carried us to strange seas and dangerous waters,' Melcorka said. 'She has never let us down.' She did not mention that she had been built by a man who was half-selkie. Such information was best kept to herself.

  'I am sure Catriona is a fine vessel,' Erik said with a smile. 'But will you be able to keep level with Sea Serpent? She is a fast ship and we may sail into wild seas.'

  'When you reach the Empire of Dhegia,' Melcorka said. 'We will be there.'

  'You don't know where it is,' a young Norseman named Thorkil scoffed. 'Only the Vikings can sail these seas.'

  'It is to the west and south of here,' Melcorka said.

  'We Norsemen call it Vinland,' Thorkil said. 'Only Norsemen know the sea-road.'

  'The Dhegians also seem to know it,' Melcorka said.

  'We will destroy them.' Thorkil boasted.

  'We will see,' Melcorka thought of the confidence of the wounded Dhegian before the Ice king killed him. 'They may be a tough enemy to destroy.'

  'We are Vikings.' Thorkil said. 'We defeat everybody.'

  Melcorka looked at him, her eyes darkening with memory as she recalled the scenes of slaughter when the Norse had ravaged Dunedin and the piles of bodies at the battle by the Tummel when the combined forces of Alba, Fidach and the Lord of the Isles had finally defeated the Norse invasion. 'Not everybody,' she said quietly. 'Not everybody.'

  The Norsemen grabbed for the hilt of his sword, half standing until Erik pushed him back down. 'Easy Thorkil, I need you alive. Melcorka is the best warrior I have ever seen.'

  'She has not met me yet,' Thorkil said.

  'That is why you are still alive.' Erik said with his characteristic smile. 'Now sit back down and continue living.'

  'I can kill her,' Thorkil protested.

  'That is possible,' Melcorka agreed. 'If you and ten of your friends crept up on me while I was asleep.' She smiled across at him, daring him to draw sword, willing him to fight her, desperate to kill him.

  'Mel…' Bradan placed a hand on her arm. 'This is not like you.'

  'Back off, Bradan,' Melcorka shook his hand off.

  'We should all back off a little,' Erik said. 'We have a greater enemy to fight than our own reputations.'

  'That is true,' Bradan said. 'Melcorka does not need to kill a beardless puppy to prove herself while Thorkil here had better learn to control his tongue if he hopes to exercise it before the Dhegians.'

  There was a celebration that night with drinking, singing, and boasting. Melcorka watched the Norsemen carousing, seeing them pair off with the women, to stagger away into the night or simply find an unoccupied corner of the great hall to engage in coupling that was more animal than amorous.

  She saw Arne kick a young slave girl, grab her by the hair and drag her screaming to the wall.

  'I wonder if they acted like this before they attacked Alba,' she said.

  'Quite possibly,' Bradan said. 'It seems to be their way.' He drank from a horn of ale. 'You're not yourself just now Melcorka. Something is on your mind.'

  'I am fine,' she said.

  'Are you sure you wish to journey with the Norse?' Bradan gestured to Arne. 'They are upsetting you.'

  'If they upset me too much I will kill them,' Melcorka said.

  'That's exactly what I mean, Mel. I've never heard you talk that way before.'

  'I am fine.' Melcorka leaned closer. 'Leave me alone, Bradan.'

  Bradan lifted his hands, palms toward her. 'You're alone, Melcorka. Just remember that you don't have to be alone. I am here if you need me.'

  The slave girl screamed shrilly as Arne pushed her onto the ground and ripped up her dress. She was about ten, skinny and under-developed. Dropping his breeches he prepared to enter her.

  'She's a bit young for you,' Erik hauled Arne away. 'You'll be much better occupied by a woman rather than a child.'

  'I like them young,' Arne protested. 'And she's only a slave.'

  'She's my slave,' Erik lifted the child. 'Off you go. Frakkok needs help with something.' He pushed her toward the door and crooked his finger to a dark- haired woman in her late twenties. 'You: Arne needs a woman.'

  The slave woman came forward, obviously less than reluctant. Extending her right hand, she took hold of Arne and pulled him close.

  Melcorka nodded to Erik. 'That was well done,' she said.

  'Hilda likes men,' Erik said. 'Any men. Even Arne. Other women reject him; that is why he has to find a child.'

  'You have goodness in you,' Melcorka was aware of Bradan watching her. 'You will make a fine leader, once you earn the respect of your men.'

  Erik's smile broadened. 'I will earn it,' he touched her on the arm. 'And I will earn yours.'

  Bradan looked away, his eyes troubled.

  Melcorka shrugged and left the hall. Finding a secluded corner, she slid a hand inside her cloak, removed the head-band and slipped it over her forehead. Within seconds she was back in that strange city of tall earthen mounds and stone pyramids, where polite people treated her with respect and bowed as she approached. She leaned back and smiled, allowing herself to drift away into this new world.

  Chapter Eight

  They sailed on the morning tide, with the mist hugging close to the sea and hiding the great white mountains of Greenland. There were two vessels, the dragon-ship Sea Serpent and the much smaller Catriona, both under oar- power alone.

  'It's good to be back at sea,' Melcorka hauled at her oar.

  Bradan nodded, unspeaking.

  'Now it's you, who is not himself,' Melcorka glanced across at him. 'You have hardly said a word since last night.'

  'From what I heard, this Vinland is a fair distance away,' Bradan did not explain his silence. 'This could be a long row.'

  'I hope that Erik knows what he is doing,' Melcorka said.

  'If not,' Bradan said, 'we'll leave him to do what he wishes and head out on our own.'

  Melcorka tossed back her hood so that her dark hair hung free. 'You don't like Erik do you?'

  'I don't trust him,' Bradan said.

  'When we first met these Northmen, you warned me not to judge them all like Egil.' Melcorka said, 'now it is you who is doing the judging.'

  Bradan grunted and nodded. 'That could be.'

  'Perhaps you need to find some trust.' Melcorka said and replaced her hood.

  They rowed on with the silence broken only by the ripple of water under Catriona's counter and the soft surge of the sea against their prow. Twice whales surfaced nearby, surveyed them and submerged again. A flight of birds passed close overhead, with Melcorka looking up, hopeful there was an oystercatcher, her totem bird, among them. There was not. Geese called melancholic, unseen in the mist, a reminder of home. They rowed on in the wake of Sea Serpent until a breeze whispered from the south and they could hoist sail.

  'That's better now,' Bradan said.

  Melcorka did not answer.

  At night they furled the sail and put out a sea anchor so they would not lose touch with Sea Serpent. They heard the rough Norse voices drift across to them and watched small icebergs bob past, wary in case of collision. None came close. They slept; twice Melcorka
woke to find Bradan watching her through concerned eyes. Turning her back, she went back to sleep, wishing she had peace to don her head-band.

  They moved on at dawn, heading south and west for the land that Erik called Vinland and with the wind bellying their sail as Sea Serpent pulled further ahead.

  'We might lose them,' Melcorka warned.

  'That could be a blessing,' Bradan said.

  'What does that mean?' Melcorka rounded on him, instantly angry.

  'Exactly what the words said. Losing Sea Serpent might be a blessing.'

  'We are going to find a huge empire that wants to take over the world!' She blazed at him, eyes hot. 'Do you not think that the more swords we have the better chance we have of success?'

  'And do you really think that another thirty untried blades will be of any use if this is an empire of thousands?' Bradan faced her with anger every bit as intense.

  'This is not about numbers, is it?' Melcorka said. 'You have something else in your mind; something is bothering you.'

  'You know full well what it is!' Bradan shouted.

  'You'd better tell me, Bradan!' Leaving her oar, Melcorka stood up and stepped toward him.

  'Or what, Melcorka? Or you'll draw your big sword and cut my head off?' Bradan held her gaze, unblinking and unafraid. 'Where are you, Mel?'

  Her slap took him by surprise so he staggered back and nearly fell over the thwart.

  'Sail ho!' The hail came from Sea Serpent. 'Sail astern!'

  'These seas are getting far too crowded,' Bradan smoothed a hand over his face.

  'Get back to your oar,' Melcorka ordered. 'It might be one of the emperor's ships.'

  'It's a Norse dragon-ship,' Bradan said. 'Unless the Dhegians have the same design.'

  'And look who is standing in the bows' Melcorka said.

  Neither of them mentioned the slap.

  'Erik!' Frakkok called across, ignoring Catriona completely as she balanced easily in the bows of her ship. 'The Dhegians have burned Frakkoksfjord and slaughtered our people. We are all that are left.'

  There was instant pandemonium in Sea Serpent as the crew lined the sides, asking questions, making comments, drawing their swords in fury.