Falcon Warrior (The Swordswoman Book 3)

by Malcolm Archibald

  'Oh God for Defender,' Melcorka said. 'Is this where I die?'

  The guard pulled his shield down hard to disarm her, lifted his club and shouted some death cry.

  'You are not a warrior, Eyota!' An unknown Oglala warrior pushed past her and stabbed upward with his flint-bladed knife. 'Let us do the fighting!' He yelled his war cry 'Hokahey!' and pushed on.

  'He is right, Eyota,' Chaytan said. 'Leave the Guards to the warriors. We have more important people to kill.' Grabbing hold of Melcorka, he pushed her out of the fighting and sideways, toward the palace that glowered down upon the citadel. 'Here!' He retrieved the Norse sword and threw it to her. 'You may need this.'

  The streets were filled with battling warriors as the united tribes pushed over the palisade and the Wall Guards and Citadel Guards combined to push them back. As Melcorka watched, the Veterans filed out of their barracks, no longer interested in carnal pleasures as they formed a third disciplined block and ripped into the tribes. Chumani's ploy had worked to an extent but now there were another fifty experienced defenders.

  'Come on Eyota,' Chaytan guided her through the streets, felling any Guard who got in his way. 'We cannot linger here.'

  There was a flight of stairs to the palace entrance, with statues of various deities at every fourth step and a great round-headed door closed at the top. Chaytan took the steps three at a time, swinging his club.

  The door held under his assault. Roaring in frustration, he tried again, battering at the solid wood without any effect.

  'Wamblee will sit inside there in perfect safety,' he said, 'until the fighting is done.'

  Melcorka glanced over her shoulder. All three sections of the Guards had merged together and were pushing back the tribes. Their line of shields was intact and their spearmen were stabbing and thrusting, killing and wounding the tribesmen. They had formed a ring around the palace, with the water warriors now joined with the main assault so the citadel was a mass of battling warriors, 'We have to get in.' she said. 'If the tribes are defeated, then Wamblee will take a terrible revenge on them.'

  'He will sacrifice all that he captures,' Chaytan said, 'and enslave the world between the Mississippi and the great sea.'

  Melcorka glanced upward, where the walls soared toward the sky. 'That's our way,' she said, remembering how she had climbed the outside of the Osprey's broch in Alba, so many months ago. 'Up the wall to the roof.'

  'Nobody has ever tried to climb that before,' Chaytan said.

  'Then we must be the first.' Thrusting her sword through the waistband of her linen leine and hoping it would not cut her in half; Melcorka found a hand-hold and pulled herself up. The wall was so well built that there were only tiny cracks where each solid rectangle of masonry joined the next; however, there was sufficient room for the very tip of her fingers or end of her toes. Used to climbing the cliffs of her island home for bird's eggs, Melcorka made rapid progress yet before she was quarter way up her muscles were begging for relief.

  'I can't go on' Chaytan's voice came from far below. 'I am not built for climbing.'

  'Then try the door,' Melcorka shouted. 'I will go alone.'

  The wall continued above her, stretching smooth and featureless, without a window to break the monotony. Melcorka forced herself onward and upward, inch by agonising inch as her fingers and calves screamed for help.

  There was a battlement at the top, with an embrasure through which Melcorka almost fell. She lay on a wooden surface, gasping in pain and exhaustion as she sought to regain her breath before her next step; whatever that might be. She had hoped that Eyota would have some idea how to proceed yet there was no guidance, nothing but the thoughts that raced through her head.

  Something sharp prodded her back. Melcorka looked up, reaching for her sword. 'There's no need for that,' a familiar voice said. 'Stand up.'

  Erik poked the point of his sword into her back again. 'Somebody wants to see you.' His grin was familiar and unwelcome. 'You may as well see her before you die.'

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rough hands lifted her, rough Norse voices grated in her ear, laughing as they shoved her to a small doorway. Unsure what to think, Melcorka could do nothing but obey. Eyota was persuasive among the tribes; her power had no effect on these aliens in her land.

  Two stories down, Erik pushed her into a large chamber where half a dozen people sat on large chairs, with the remaining Norse lounging in one corner, joking as they sharpened their swords and axes. At the outside of the main group were Wamblee's two bodyguards, with Wamblee in between them. At his side, smiling softly, sat Frakkok, with Defender strapped diagonally across her back.

  'Here she is,' Erik threw Melcorka onto the ground at Wamblee's feet.

  'You have caused me a great deal of trouble,' Wamblee's voice rumbled like distant thunder. 'You have killed many of my people and caused discontent among the subservient tribes.'

  Melcorka rose to her feet. Surrounded by enemies, she had nothing to offer but defiance and courage. 'You are a tyrant, Wamblee, and your rule is coming to an end. Even as we speak the armies of the allied tribes are destroying your armies in the city; your Guards are dying in droves and this palace will soon fall.'

  Wamblee shook with laughter. 'You could hardly be more wrong, Melcorka. My men have held the advance of your rebel tribes, my Guards are clearing the intruders from the citadel and you are the only rebel to enter my fortress.' He leaned closer. 'Soon my priests will be busy sacrificing the leaders of the rebels; all their men will be my slaves and my Guards will have the pick of their women.'

  'And this one? Frakkok said. Her gaze was as poisonous as any reptile. 'I want her, Wamblee; I have an old score to settle with Melcorka of the Cenel Bearnas.'

  'You!' Melcorka lunged at Frakkok, only for Arne to stop her with a brawny right arm. 'How can you join this monster, Frakkok? It was his men who destroyed your settlement in Greenland; he killed your people!'

  Frakkok shook her head. 'Oh, you foolish, naïve little girl. How little you know and how little you understand. I came west overseas to seek a man like Wamblee; do you really think I would be content with a puny little village like Frakkoksfjord? I want a man of power; I want a man like Wamblee! It was I who destroyed that insignificant little village so my men had nowhere to return. They had to go on until I found a man worthy of my first husband.'

  Melcorka stared at her. 'You killed your own followers so you could get a powerful man?'

  'I am Frakkok of the Cet; I was queen in Caithness until a bold sea raider took me to wife. He won my body in battle and my heart in bed. He was all man, and all mine until you killed him, Melcorka.'

  'If I killed him, it must have been in fair fight,' Melcorka said. 'And to die in battle is the preferred fate of any true warrior.'

  Frakkok stepped closer and spat in Melcorka's face. 'You murdered him by the Standing Stones of Callanish. Now, do you remember him?'

  The memories surged back like a Hebridean tide. The great avenue of sacred stones in the island of Lewis; the evil Morrigan with her crows; the death of Hector; the Shining One approaching in his fiery chariot; the battle against the giant Norseman who had killed Bearnas.

  'Egil,' Melcorka said softly. 'You are the wife of Egil, who killed my mother and all my people.'

  Melcorka stared at her in understanding. No wonder that Frakkok had hated her from the onset. As soon as Frakkok heard her name she would know that she had killed her husband.

  'I am the widow of Egil,' Frakkok said.

  'I am the daughter of Bearnas.'

  'You may have this woman,' Wamblee said.

  Frakkok's smile was not pleasant. 'I thought it was you the moment we met at sea,' she said. 'I waited and listened to everything you said. I saw you with your magic sword,' she touched the hilt of Defender, 'now my magic sword, and I knew who you were.'

  'Egil deserved to die,' Melcorka said. 'I am not sorry I killed him.'

  'I will make you sorry,' Frakkok said. 'I will kill you inch by
inch over many days until you howl and beg for a merciful death.'

  Her words gave Melcorka a flicker of hope. 'You wish to kill me in revenge then? You want to kill me to avenge the death of Egil?'

  The words were clear in Melcorka's mind and the voice belonged to Bearnas. Defender cannot be used in revenge or for personal gain.

  She had been warned before. It was unlikely that Frakkok was aware of that restriction in Defender's power.

  Frakkok frowned. 'I thought I had made that clear.'

  Melcorka heard her mother's voice again.

  You have three weapons, Melcorka. You have Defender; you have your life experience and skills, and you have your brains. You must choose which one is best suited to which task and utilise it to the full.

  She no longer had Defender, her life experience, and skills her no use here. It was time to use her brain.

  Melcorka straightened her back so she stood erect. She faced Frakkok and laughed, loudly. 'What a pathetic old woman you are! You are seeking revenge when you should be thanking me! Did you not know that Egil was sleeping with every woman he came across? Do you not realise that he abandoned your daughter, if she was yours, to be killed by mermaids? Did you not know he was with an ugly old hag when I killed him?' she laughed again. 'A hag even uglier than you, and maybe as old.'

  Melcorka saw Frakkok's face darken with anger. That was good. That was the reaction she wished.

  'Did you forget about your daughter Alva, Frakkok? Is she yours or did she come from another of Egil's many women?' Melcorka could feel the tension in that room as all eyes were on her and Frakkok. They were waiting for a reaction, either physical or verbal.

  'I'll have your tongue cut out,' Frakkok said.

  'Of course, you will,' Melcorka stepped forward, pushing her face into that of Frakkok. 'You will have somebody fight your battles for you; a man perhaps? That is why you run to a strong man such as Wamblee, isn't it? You need a strong man because you are too weak to fight yourself. Look at you!' Melcorka injected scorn to her voice. 'You are hiding behind a dozen men, afraid to face me even when I am disarmed and alone! You are a coward, Frakkok, not fit to be in the company of real women, and certainly not fit to be Wamblee's woman.'

  Melcorka saw a slight change of expression in Wamblee's face. She did not know much about these people yet, but Eyota did. She allowed Eyota to take control of her mind for a moment, probing to discover the best way to achieve her objective.

  'You have three weapons, Melcorka. You have Defender; you have your life experience and skills, and you have your brains. You must choose which one is best suited to which task and utilise it to the full.'

  Once again she recalled her mother's words, and then Eyota's insight flooded her. Wamblee was a large man with a hunger for power. He was also vain. Looking at him, Melcorka could see indications of his vanity; the huge chair he sat on, the magnificent falcon's feathers he wore; the splendid jewellery with the tabard decorated with thousands of these little shells they valued; he wore far more than any man in this city. Not only that, but he was scared, hiding himself away in this great palace set within a citadel with hundreds of guards sworn to defend him at all costs, and with two huge bodyguards always present.

  The impressions raced through Melcorka's mind one after the other, so quickly that she barely had time to analyse one before the next took its place.

  'You are a fine figure of a man, Wamblee,' Melcorka injected admiration into her voice. 'I have never met a more manly man.'

  She held his gaze, smiling. 'Do you really want to be with this woman who was so poor a wife that her last husband had to find comfort with another woman? Do you really wish to be with a woman who is too old to bear you any sons?' Melcorka pointed to Frakkok and laughed. 'Look at her! A dried up old hag!'

  One of the bodyguards gave a low chuckle as Wamblee smiled.

  'Do you really think she is better in bed that me?' Melcorka threw out the challenge. 'Or would defend you in battle? She is old and broken and scared. I am young and virile and I am not afraid of you, or your bodyguards, or of anybody else in your kingdom. Especially not of some haggard old Pictish woman!'

  There; the die was thrown. Melcorka stepped back, still holding Wamblee's gaze.

  'She led the army that attacked you,' Frakkok said. 'Have her killed.'

  'It takes skill to raise an army and an enemy one day can be a friend the next,' Wamblee rose from his throne. 'You are indeed a beautiful woman, but too dangerous to live.' He waved his hand in dismissal. 'Kill her, Frakkok, I have given you leave.'

  Frakkok's smile was of pure malice. 'You are wise, Wamblee. You heard the king, Erik; kill the Alban.'

  'Mother…' Erik glanced at Frakkok, over to Melcorka and back.

  'Do it!' Frakkok slapped him hard across the face. He flinched.

  'Hold!' Wamblee held up a hand. 'I did not tell Erik to kill her, I ordered you to do so, Frakkok. Kill her yourself, here and now.'

  Melcorka saw the sudden shock on the face of Frakkok. That was good. 'Come on then, Frakkok; let's see if you can do something yourself rather than expecting others to do all the work for you.' She stepped back.

  'You have three weapons, Melcorka. You have Defender; you have your life experience and skills, and you have your brains.'

  Her brains had earned her a quicker death rather than one by torture. That was a definite gain. They had also earned her a slim opportunity of life; she may defeat Frakkok in a straightforward fight although that was not likely. Frakkok was middle-aged and tough as bull-leather; she had not risen to command a settlement by being nice. She had also been Egil's wife, which must temper any woman to the constitution of iron.

  'You are old and slow, Frakkok; I am young and agile. I will kill you before you can even come close.'

  Taunt her; mock her, cause her to lose her temper and her judgement. Melcorka smiled as Frakkok bounced to her feet with Defender still strapped securely to her back.

  'I'll tear you apart, Melcorka.'

  'Only with your mouth, Frakkok!'

  Melcorka landed the first blow, a stinging open- handed slap that was meant to convey contempt rather than a serious attempt to injure. She heard Frakkok gasp and laughed. 'You are good at slapping your son; not so good when it is you.' She slapped her again, harder, hoping for a reaction. Both the bodyguards laughed.

  'I ordered you to kill her, Frakkok,' Wamblee roared, 'I did not say let her beat you!' His laughter rumbled around the stone chamber.

  'Kill her.' Egil appeared, shrouded in dark mist. 'Kill her slow.' He had the same braided hair, the same tattooed face and the same sword and axe that he had used in life. Except now he was dead and emerging from Helheim, the Norse underworld. Behind him, Melcorka saw a giant female, partly coloured blue, partly the colour of European flesh, with a dour, unhappy face. That was Hel herself, watching over her protégé.

  Melcorka stepped back. 'I was never afraid of you in life, Egil, and I am not afraid of you in death.

  Egil spat his hatred from Helheim. 'You sent me here; now you will join me for eternity.' Lifting his arm, he took hold of Frakkok's hand and raked her claws across Melcorka's face, attempting to blind her. Melcorka jerked back as all the audience roared their approval.

  'That's better Frakkok,' Wamblee shouted. 'Rip her eyes out!'

  Melcorka felt the slow blood drip from her face. She knew that the watchers could not see Egil. To them, this was a straightforward fight between two women and all the more enjoyable for its novelty.

  Frakkok raked again, stepping forward, forcing Melcorka to retreat step by stubborn step, knowing that, there was a wall behind her and after that there was no more space. The crowd was cheering, demanding Melcorka's blood, encouraging Frakkok to go forward.

  Egil was at Frakkok's shoulder, whispering in her ear. Reaching round her, he took hold of both her arms. While Frakkok's right hand formed into raking claws, her left bunched into a fist. She feinted with the right; Melcorka dodged left and Frakkok's fist s
mashed into her temple. Stunned, she slumped to the stone-flagged floor as the audience yelled in delight.

  'Cripple her, Frakkok,' Wamblee roared. 'Hurt her bad! Make her suffer and squeal.' He leaned forward on his throne, enjoying the fun.

  As she stepped on Melcorka's ankle and twisted her heel, Frakkok seemed determined to do as Wamblee wanted. She was smiling now, grinding her heel into Melcorka's flesh, trying to break bones and tear tendons.

  'Stay down, Melcorka, so I can kill you slowly!'

  Biting her lip against the pain, Melcorka suddenly jerked her leg clear, rolled over and tried to rise, only for Frakkok to kick her full in the face. Melcorka yelled and fell backward. Frakkok kicked her again, in the stomach, the ribs and groin.

  The audience were laughing now, loving Melcorka's pain.

  'Get up.' The words were an order. 'Get up and fight back. You are the daughter of Bearnas; you are of warrior blood.'

  'Mother?' Melcorka looked up through a film of blood.

  'Get up! You don't need a sword to fight!'

  That was more a rebuke than an encouragement.

  Bearnas stood behind her dressed in her full regalia of a Celtic warrior, with chain main armour, a winged helmet, and a long sword. She faced Egil across the width of the chamber. 'Leave my daughter alone!'

  Egil laughed. 'I killed you, Bearnas, and I will kill the last of your seed.'

  'You struck me from behind when I was fighting two of your men,' Bearnas said. 'You are a coward Egil.'

  'Watch your daughter die,' Egil taunted. 'And then I will welcome her to Helheim, where I will torment her for eternity!' Reaching out, he took hold of Frakkok's leg, lifted it and stomped her foot hard onto Melcorka's chest. 'Watch her suffer, Bearnas! Watch her suffer and die!'

  'Fight, Melcorka! Get up and fight!' Stepping forward, Bearnas thrust her fingers hard against Egil's throat. 'Fight!' The Norseman staggered back, leaving Frakkok alone.