Falcon Warrior (The Swordswoman Book 3)

by Malcolm Archibald

  'If I survive this,' Melcorka said, 'I'll teach you how to treat a lady!'

  'Hurry it up!' The priests said, 'get that sacrifice up to the altar.'

  There was another voice raised in protest and another crunching blow from a stone mace and then Melcorka stood on the summit of the pyramid with a group of priests around her and Wamblee in front, grinning, with Defender in his hand and triumph bright in his eyes.

  'There is nobody to save you now' he gloated. 'Your Norsemen have fled, your Lakota warriors are dead or vanished and your friend Chumani will be sacrificed at your back.' Reaching forward, he smoothed his hand across her face. 'You will die screaming in front of those people who looked to you for leadership, Melcorka of Alba.'

  'I am never alone,' Melcorka had expected to be afraid, but she was not. She stood erect, facing Wamblee eye to eye.

  Wamblee looked away. 'Are you ready, priests?'

  'We are ready,' they said.

  'Then put her on the altar,' Wamblee ordered.

  Before Melcorka could say another word, four priests took hold of her and held her across that altar. She felt the pressure of cold stone pressing against her spine and the pain of grown men pushing down on her limbs. The sky above looked very clear and blue; it was a good thing to look on as she died. She raised her chin in stubborn defiance; she would die in silence; Wamblee would not have the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

  'Hold her there,' Wamblee said. He stepped past her. 'I will address my people.' He looked down upon the assembly in the great arena between the pyramid and the citadel and raised his voice.

  'I am Wamblee.' He said. 'I am the ruler of Cahokia and the Dhegian Empire!' He raised his arms, holding them wide in unconscious imitation of a crucifix. 'Lately, there was an attempt to usurp me.' He pointed to Melcorka, lying naked on the sacrificial altar. 'There is the usurper now; waiting to greet Wi. Waiting to feed me with her heart.' His laugh boomed out across the arena. Some people joined in; others did not.

  'She can wait,' Wamblee shouted. 'I am sure she is comfortable with her back being slowly broken.'

  There was another shout from the crowd and another ugly crunch as the guards crushed a skull with their maces.

  'Here,' Wamblee held up Defender. 'Here is her sword of power.' Lifting it high, he tossed it down the stairs. It landed with a clatter and slithered slowly, step by step until it came to rest on the middle terrace. 'You see how useless it is!'

  'And here is a stick that she valued.' Wamblee lifted Bradan's staff and threw it high, like a spear. It soared over the stairs, reached its apex and whistled downward to land a foot away from Bradan. He looked at it without interest, put an arm around Ehawee and returned his gaze to Wamblee.

  'And now, Melcorka, you have nothing; no friends, no weapons; not even a stick.' Wamblee spoke in triumph.

  'I have my soul,' Melcorka said. 'And that is more than you have.'

  Wamblee lifted the head-band of Eyota. 'Perhaps I have no soul,' he said with a leer. 'Yet I have this.' He held it up for the crowd to see. 'I hold the power of Eyota as well as of Wamblee. Is there anybody who dares to challenge me?'

  Chumani had been standing erect, waiting her turn to be executed. Now she took a step forward and reached for the head-band as if hoping to grab it from Wamblee. He held it out of her reach. 'Would you not like to?' he said, taunting her. 'Do you not crave the power of Eyota?'

  Pushing her away, Wamblee removed his falcon head gear and slipped on the band, stretching it so it clamped onto his larger head. 'Now I have the power of Eyota as well as my own! My victory is complete!'

  'Not quite!' Melcorka had waited until all eyes were on Wamblee. Now she had one single, slender chance. All this time she had held the falcon trinket at the back of her mouth. Now she pushed it to the front, used her tongue to manoeuvre the sharp beak forward, held it momentarily between her teeth and spat it with all the force she could at the priest who held her right arm. The falcon's sharp beak landed full in the priest's left eye. The man screamed and jerked back, loosening his grip on Melcorka's wrist. She pulled her arm free and pushed the priest back so he collided with Wamblee.

  'Fight them, Chumani!'

  Seeing the priests in temporary disarray, Chumani banged into the closest, providentially freeing Melcorka's right leg. She swung it in a kick that caught the priest's companion full on the chest and sent him staggering backward

  'Fight them!' Melcorka yelled and saw a disturbance in the crowd below her. Ehawee had slipped away from Bradan and was running forward. 'Save Eyota!' Ehawee shouted until a guard lifted his mace and swung it at her.

  'No!' Bradan's voice was distinct even above the turmoil. He pushed forward to help Ehawee, but too late. The mace landed a glancing blow, sending Ehawee to the ground. She yelled and held her head. Pushing at the guard, Bradan lifted Ehawee, holding her close as the guard swung again. Even from up here Melcorka heard the crunch of contact. She saw Bradan's expression alter, saw his mouth open in a shout of grief and saw him throw himself at the guard.

  Bradan was no fighting man. He carried no weapon and had never learned even the most elementary of defensive or offensive techniques. The Citadel Guard tossed him aside without effort and lifted his mace to finish him off.

  'Bradan!' Melcorka screamed. She was aware that Wamblee was beside her and that the priests were recovering, but all her attention was on Bradan. Nothing else mattered.

  Bradan sprawled on the ground with the Dhegians and others backing away, watching the Guardsman lift his mace to kill this impudent rebel.

  Melcorka dived for the head of the stairs, hoping to reach Bradan before he was killed. A priest blocked her path, and then another, so she was submerged in a knot of muscular men, each one intent on putting her back on the altar. She looked sideways, watching the drama unfold so far beneath her.

  Knowing he was outmatched, Bradan scrabbled for a weapon. His fingers closed around his own staff that lay untended on the ground. Melcorka saw something change as he grasped the length of rowan wood. He looked up and for a moment he stared straight into Melcorka's desperate eyes.

  'Bradan!' Melcorka shouted. 'Run!'

  Bradan was not a fighter, yet when he looked at the crumpled body of Ehawee, he rammed his staff into the Guardsman's face.

  'Bradan!' Melcorka screamed, knowing that he was outmatched. 'Run; please run!'

  And then she could see no more as the priests struggled to lift her onto the altar. She fought back, desperate to help Bradan before the Guards bludgeoned him to death with their massive stone maces.

  'Kill them!' Wamblee put his hands to the forehead-band, pulling it further down. 'Kill them all!'

  Grabbing the flint knife from the careless hand of a priest, Melcorka bent low and sliced through Chumani's hobbles. 'Run, Chumani' she said. 'Run for your life!'

  'No, Eyota!' Chumani said. 'I will not leave you.'

  'Run when I say!' Melcorka pushed her toward the steps. 'Save yourself!' Gripping the flint knife, Melcorka wriggled free of the priests and threw herself at Wamblee.

  'Now my Melcorka is back!' Bearnas was at her side, a misty figure with an oystercatcher flying at her shoulder. 'Now you are my warrior daughter!' She was laughing, wearing her full chain mail and holding a shining sword.

  'Get out of my way mother,' Melcorka yelled, slashing at Wamblee with the small flint blade. 'This is my fight.' She felt the thrill of contact as the sharp blade sliced a deep cut in Wamblee's face.

  Wamblee flinched and put a hand to the wound, from where a ruby of blood seeped and began to flow down his chin. He swung an arm to deflect Melcorka and caught Chumani on the back.

  Melcorka saw Chumani stagger under the blow, trip, and fall. She fell onto the top stair, scraping the skin from her cheek, reached out for balance and fell further, rolling down the stairs. Melcorka saw her vanish and nodded; Chumani was out of harm's way. Now Melcorka was alone on the summit of the sacrificial pyramid, with five priests and Wamblee. She slashed again with t
he flint dagger, ripping a priest's tunic and cutting into his shoulder.

  'I am Melcorka!' She shouted. 'Melcorka of the Cenel Bearnas! Come and face me!'

  As one priest reeled away, two others took his place, thrusting with their knives. Laughing, knowing she was about to die, Melcorka accepted the pain of the first cut and slashed at the priest's throat with her dagger. 'I am a warrior woman!' she shouted. 'I am Melcorka the Swordswoman!'

  She felt the sting of another wound across her hip, turned abruptly and kicked at a priest before stabbing upward with her dagger. There was an immediate rush of blood and a squeal as the man clutched at the new wound in his stomach.

  And then there were three priests facing her, three knives stabbing and Wamblee grasping her by the hair.

  'I have her,' Wamblee roared. 'Take her to the altar!'

  Wamblee's strength was immense. His arms were as thick as most men's thighs and rippled with supple muscle. Melcorka struggled in vain. She kicked backward in the hope of catching his shin. She threw her head backward, hoping to crack his chin, mouth or nose. She reversed the knife in her hand and jabbed into his flesh but he seemed immune to the pain.

  'I have her safe.' Wamblee lifted her clean off the ground so her feet and legs kicked uselessly into the air. 'Take her to the altar!'

  Now dishevelled and angry, the priests grabbed hold of her arms and legs and helped Wamblee carry her back to the altar. They banged her down so hard that Melcorka thought her back was broken, and hauled brutally on her limbs so she was once again spread-eagled face-up.

  'This time there will be no mistake,' Wamblee was gasping with effort, bleeding where Melcorka's knife had rammed into his side. 'Rip her open!'

  Four priests hauled at Melcorka's limbs as the fifth placed the tip of his knife on top of her pubic bone. It had taken that long for Chumani to return.

  'Leave Eyota alone!' Her leap was perfectly timed. She landed on Wamblee's chest, unbalancing him so he staggered backward. One of his feet made contact with a priest and Melcorka again jerked free her arm, pushing at the priest with the knife.

  'Melcorka!' That was Bradan's voice, strong and very welcome. 'Take this!' He threw Defender across to her. Sunlight glinted on the great silver blade as the sword seemed to hang in the air. Still lying on the altar, Melcorka made a grab at the sword but missed. It fell with a loud clatter.

  'Eyota!' Chumani shouted. Pushing herself away from Wamblee, she scooped Defender from the ground and passed it to Melcorka.

  As soon as she grasped her sword, Melcorka felt that welcome surge of strength and power. There was no time to enjoy the sensation. Slicing sideways, she killed the priest with the sacrificial knife and cut the arm off another. The remaining priests recoiled, shrieking in horror. Melcorka swung left and right, killing two more and watching the sole survivor run.

  He did not get far. A surge of men and woman had followed Bradan up the stairs and they grabbed the priest. Melcorka did not watch the resulting slaughter.

  Wamblee's deep voice roared out, calling for his guards. Throwing Chumani off, he reached for his mace and laid around him, with every swing knocking down one or more of the crowd.

  'I am Wamblee!' He shouted.

  The people pulled back. After years of fear, they were still apprehensive of this giant of a man. Melcorka stepped forward with Defender balanced across her shoulder.

  'We shall fight,' Melcorka said. 'Or I can give you to your subjects so they can sacrifice you to whichever god they please.'

  Rather than replying, Wamblee swung his mace at Melcorka's head. She blocked it with Defender. Wamblee was a head and shoulders taller than she was, and as broad as two normal men; every swing on his mace sounded like the ripping of cloth and when he missed the mace cracked the stone flags on which it landed.

  Holding Defender in front of her, Melcorka backed away, parrying, blocking and dodging. A crowd formed around her, men and women with anxious faces and worried eyes. Chumani was there, with Bradan at her side.

  'Are you Bradan or Capa?' Melcorka asked.

  Bradan tapped his staff on the flags. 'I am Bradan the Wanderer,' he said.

  'When did you get back?' Melcorka parried another colossal swing of the mace.

  'When I lifted my staff.'

  'It is good to have you where you belong,' Melcorka caught the mace on Defender's blade, twisted and pushed back. She saw the confusion on Wamblee's face as he was rocked by a mere woman.

  'I have the power of Eyota!' Wamblee shouted. 'I wear her head-band!'

  Melcorka stepped back and rested the point of Defender on the ground. 'It does not suit you,' she said. 'It was made for a woman and you are a man. Or so I have been told.' She raised her voice. 'I have yet to meet the woman who can prove that particular claim.'

  Wamblee's yell was of fury mixed with frustration. Lifting his mace he charged at her. Melcorka waited until he was close and then crouched down with Defender held before her as a lance. Unable to stop himself, Wamblee ran straight onto the point of the sword. The impetus of his own lunge drove Defender right through his body and out the other side.

  Wamblee grunted. He looked down at the gleaming steel blade that protruded from his belly in something like disbelief. 'You have killed me,' he said.

  'I know,' Melcorka said and ripped the sword sideways and out.

  Wamblee stared at his blood as it poured from him like a waterfall. Then he crumpled to the ground. He kicked once, twice, stiffened and died. Melcorka knelt beside him and closed his eyes.

  All around, the crowd fell silent. They were not sure what this death signified but they know it was important; a landmark in the history of their city.

  'He was a cruel man,' Melcorka said, 'but he died bravely and honourably. He shall be buried as the king and mighty warrior that he was. Removing Eyota's head-band she lifted it high in the air. Despite all the slaughter and killing, not a single drop of blood stained the immaculate beadwork.

  'You are indeed Eyota,' Chumani said.

  'No; I am Melcorka of Alba. I only borrowed some of Eyota's powers.' Melcorka stepped over to Chumani. 'When all was lost, Chumani, it was you who enabled me to fight; you turned the tide of battle.' She slipped the head-band over Chumani's black hair and eased it down to her forehead.

  Blood from the scrape on Chumani's cheek had congealed to form a pattern very like a pouncing falcon. Melcorka nodded: the prophecy had spoken of a woman with a patterned cheek coming from the north with a band of warriors. Chumani had come to the altar up the northern side and they were surrounded by warriors of Cahokia.

  Chumani gasped. 'Eyota…' Her eyes widened. 'Eyota…' Placing both hands on her head, she reeled backward.

  Melcorka reached out. 'Chumani? Are you all right?'

  'Leave her.' Bradan placed a strong hand on Melcorka's arm. 'Let her adapt to the power of Eyota.'

  Melcorka looked into his eyes, seeing the wisdom that she had missed so badly these past few months. 'What is happening?'

  'Eyota's power is happening.' Bradan said. The scar on his left temple was very visible. 'It is a good power.'

  'It was not always good with me,' Melcorka said as Chumani crumpled to the ground.

  'You had three forces working within you,' Bradan explained. 'You had the stubborn wilful woman that is Melcorka, the passionate goodness of Eyota and the strength and skill of Defender. The combination of all three came out as a strongly passionate leader, with two powers competing. Chumani does not have Defender's influence to deflect Eyota's goodness.' He patted Melcorka on the arm. 'Give her a few moments.'

  'I do not need a few moments.' Chumani rose to her feet. Yet although she had Chumani's face and body, there was something fundamentally different about her. The spirit that glowed within her was stronger, brighter and more powerful than anything Melcorka had ever seen before.

  'You are Eyota,' Melcorka leaned on Defender.

  'I am Eyota.' Chumani said.

  'I never was Eyota,' Melcorka understood at last
. 'I was only a messenger for her. You are Eyota and I was one of your warriors who overturned the evil one.'

  Chumani lifted her arms and the whole of her people fell silent. 'I am Eyota,' she said. 'I am returned to herald a new period of prosperity and peace. From this day on there will be no human sacrifice; there will be no slavery; there will be peace in the lands. The great river Mississippi will be open for navigation and trade north and south, and there will be trade east to the great sea, north to the vast inland seas and west across the great empty lands as far as they stretch and further.'

  The people listened. They did not cheer; they bowed before her.

  'Rise up,' Chumani said. 'Rise up and stand proud. I am of you' She gazed over her people with such an expression of love that Melcorka knew things would be well in Cahokia as long as Eyota was in charge.

  They buried Wamblee near his Citadel, with tens of thousands of shell-beads beneath him, fashioned into the shape of a falcon. There were those who mourned his death and those who said he would be discovered in the unimaginable future, and that people would wonder at this great king who ruled Cahokia.

  Bradan and Melcorka were present as Wamblee was laid to rest, and they watched as Eyota took control of her land.

  'I think it is time for us to leave now,' Melcorka said softly. 'Our duty is done here.'

  'I think it is,' Bradan agreed.

  'Where shall we go?'

  'We were heading south down the Mississippi,' Bradan said. 'We have Catriona and we have Defender and my staff. I am sure that these good people will supply us with food and water.'

  Melcorka nodded as Bradan tapped his staff on the stone flags. 'On to new adventures,' she said.

  Author's Note

  Many centuries before the present United States of America was founded, Cahokia existed. It sat beside the Mississippi River, dominating the surrounding countryside, the largest urban centre north of Mexico and larger than most contemporary cities in Europe. It was founded sometime after 700 AD and flourished from around 1000 to some time before 1500 AD, vanishing not long before European explorers and adventurers probed into this beautiful corner of the New World.