The Shining One (The Swordswoman Book 2)

by Malcolm Archibald

  The woman began to sing again with her voice as lovely as anything Melcorka had ever heard. She could not make out the words but the tune eased across the calm haven to wrap itself around Prancer like a silken thread around the throat of an unsuspecting rabbit.

  One by one the men fell silent and all looked toward the island and the lone female who stood there, singing to them. She lifted her hand again and indicated they should join her.

  'This is not right, Bradan,' Melcorka said. 'Where did she come from? Who is she? What is she?'

  'She has the most beautiful voice I have ever heard,' Bradan barely glanced at Melcorka. He seemed as entranced as the other men.

  'She has that,' Melcorka agreed.

  'And the most beautiful body,' Nicolson was also staring at the woman. 'Both of them have.'

  'Both of them?' Melcorka watched as a second woman emerged from the sea and stood beside the first. A third woman came from some hidden gap in the smooth hill behind. 'Now there are three … four, five. Are they all Llyr's daughters? He's been a busy man has our Llyr.'

  'Back to your benches, lads. Let's get to these women!' Nicolson was grinning. 'These Caterans have done us a great favour chasing us here.'

  'These are not women,' Melcorka said. 'These may sound like women and look like women but they are not women.'

  'They look like damned attractive women to me!' Nicolson shouted. 'Steer for that island helmsman; row lads!'

  'If you land there you will be dead within five minutes,' Melcorka said. 'If you have any trust for me Bradan, trust me now.'

  Bradan was staring at the island, where six women now waited, each one the image of beauty. 'I do trust you,' he said. 'But what a selection of perfection.'

  'Describe them,' Melcorka said quickly. 'Hurry!'

  Prancer was surging close to the island with the oarsmen pulling hard. Another few strokes and they would arrive and the crew would be loose with these beautiful, near-naked women.

  'What are they like?' Melcorka urged. 'Tell me!'

  'You can see for yourself! They are all dark headed, like you,' Bradan said, 'tall and slender, with delicate curves and fine hips … like you.'

  'Are they all like me?' Melcorka said.

  'All of them,' Bradan said happily. 'Six copies of you and all calling to me.'

  Melcorka nodded. They were very close to the island now. 'Nicolson: describe these women: quickly!'

  'They are just as you see them,' Nicolson said. 'There are two shapely blonde women, two redheads with large breasts and two with hair as dark as a December midnight.'

  'Not so,' one of the oarsmen said; 'they are all red-haired and plump to keep a man warm at night…'

  'Stop!' Melcorka shouted. 'Don't you understand? You are all seeing what you want to see. Turn this boat round now and get away from this place.'

  Some of the men laughed; others jeered. Most did not stop staring at the women. Nobody did as Melcorka advised.

  Pushing through the oarsmen, Melcorka reached the helmsman and drew Defender. As always the thrill of holding the sword ran through her. She felt her muscles harden and heard her voice deepen and fill with authority as she spoke.

  'Steer away from the island, helmsman, or you will be without a head.'

  When the helmsman looked at her, Melcorka could see that his eyes were blank, and his mouth slack. Lifting Defender, she cracked it against the side of his head, knocking him senseless to the ground.

  'My helm now,' she said, and pulled the steering oar to port so Prancer's bow pointed away from the island. The oarsmen shouted loudly, rising from their benches in frustrated anger.

  'The women want us!'

  'Row!' Melcorka ordered. 'Row or die!'

  'You can't kill all of us,' the oarsmen were snarling at her; with their attention divided between Defender and the women, their eyes darted back and forth even as they shouted at Melcorka.

  'I can kill you all– and so can they!' Melcorka pointed to the women. 'Watch and learn!' Sliding Defender back into the scabbard, she jumped into the water and swam hard toward the island. Melcorka knew that she was taking a chance in leaving the men on Prancer but balanced that with the possibility of bringing them to see reality. Brought up on an island, she was as happy in the water as on land and swam fast even with Defender strapped across her back.

  Looking around, Melcorka grunted as she saw that Prancer was already turning toward the island. She hoped she could prove her point before the oarsmen poured ashore and met whatever horror these supposedly beautiful women concealed. Swimming faster, she arrived at the rocky shore twenty yards ahead of the curragh. The women were waiting for her; half a dozen of them, plain looking and dowdy. 'Reveal yourselves for what you really are!' She stepped from the water, wary, ready to pull Defender, knowing that things were not as they seemed to be.

  Ignoring her words, the women extended welcoming arms to the crew of Prancer and began to sing again with their mouths open and the golden notes soft and enticing across the decreasing stretch of calm water.

  Light of draught, the curragh slid up the slanting slab of rock at the side of the women. As Melcorka strode forward, the first of the oarsmen leaped overboard and ran forward.

  'Wait!' Melcorka yelled. 'Bradan! Don't leave the boat! Don't trust these women.'

  Other oarsmen followed in a rush, straight into the waiting arms of the women. For one moment they locked in an extremely amorous embrace, with hands and mouths busy, and then the women changed. The smiles dropped from their faces; their mouths elongated, their teeth grew longer and sharper and their legs merged together as they clamped their arms firmly around their chosen men and jumped into the sea.

  'They're mermaids!' One of the oarsmen shrieked in sudden and belated terror.

  Melcorka arrived as the first of the mermaids flicked its tail to slide away. She unsheathed Defender as she ran. 'Leave that man alone!' Swinging Defender sideways, Melcorka sliced the mermaid's tail in half. The mermaid opened its fanged mouth in a high-pitched scream that seemed to cut through Melcorka's head, but its arms opened and the oarsman, shocked and terrified, scrambled free.

  'Bradan! Don't leave the boat!' Stabbing Defender into the mermaid's heart, Melcorka pulled the oarsman further away and pushed him toward the curragh. 'Get in there and stay safe.'

  Mouth open, the man stumbled toward Prancer. Leaving him to make his own way, Melcorka concentrated on the others. As soon as they had realised their danger, those oarsmen who had not been captured scattered, some running toward the boat and others inland away from their newly perceived threat of the sea.

  From a scene of amorous excitement, the rocky shore had become a place of terror as the captured oarsmen struggled to free themselves from the mermaids.

  'Get back to the boat!' Melcorka yelled. Jumping high, she came down on a second mermaid, thrust Defender right through it and moved on, leaving the oarsman to extricate himself. The third mermaid managed to submerge before Melcorka leaped into the water behind it. This one immediately released its prey and turned on her, slashing with its hooked claws and long-toothed jaws. The woman of beauty had become the vicious, dangerous creatures of the sea that it really was.

  Shortening her sword so she held it a third of the way up the blade, Melcorka stabbed the creature in its broad throat. When it choked, spitting out a mixture of blood and seawater, Melcorka pushed it away and swam after the next. It was gone, submerged after releasing its human. The remaining two had disappeared into the depths, each carrying an oarsman in its arms. All Melcorka could see was the end of their long tails propelling them to some underwater lair.

  Surfacing, she shook the water from her hair. 'Everybody back on Prancer,' she yelled. 'Push off from this place.'

  'How about Donald and Kenneth?' Nicolson pointed to the blood smeared water.

  'They've gone,' Melcorka ushered the remaining oarsmen back on board the curragh.

  'What were these things?' A young, freckle-faced oarsman asked. He was openly crying.


  'Mermaids,' Melcorka shouted as she pulled herself over the bulwark of the curragh. 'No wonder they call this place Llyr's Daughters. It's the creatures they are talking about, not the skerries.'

  'I have seen mermaids before,' Nicolson still looked at the sea, perhaps in the hope that his crewmen may yet surface. 'They are not uncommon. I've never seen them so aggressive, or heard of them luring men to their deaths like that.'

  'Something is wrong out here,' Bradan sounded worried. 'They enchanted all the men on the ship, and I thought I was proof against enchantment.' He looked at Melcorka. 'I always thought a strong mind and sensible outlook was power enough against the allurement of magic or women.'

  Melcorka shook her head. She might mention that 'proof against the allurement of women' statement later. 'Nobody is proof against enchantment.' She said, 'not man, woman, child or a prince of the blood. These creatures made you see exactly what you wished to see; you saw the women of your dreams.' She focussed on Bradan, remembering that his vision had been half a dozen images of her, and that thought warmed her in a way she did not quite understand. She looked at him and smiled, knowing that he would be hurting that he had let her down.

  'Who are you?' Nicolson asked as the oarsmen pulled clumsily to the centre of the haven and rested there, gasping. The freckle-faced boy was trying to control his tears, Braden was guiltily trying to avoid Melcorka's eye; one man was boasting what he would do to the mermaids if ever he met them again.

  'Who are you?' Nicolson repeated. He eyed Melcorka as if he had never seen her before.

  'I am Melcorka.'

  'The Melcorka?'

  'She is none other,' Bradan could not keep the pride from his voice. 'This is Melcorka the Swordswoman who swept the Norsemen out of Alba.'

  'Dear Lord,' Nicolson said. 'I did not know.' He gave a little bow of respect. 'I am honoured, my Lady.'

  Dripping wet and feeling anything but ladylike, Melcorka stood in the stern of Prancer. 'The past is done,' she said. 'The future is yet to arrive; only the present matters. Now we have to stay away of the mermaids until it is safe to get clear of these rocks and evade the Caterans outside.'

  The oarsmen stared at her. Still in shock, Melcorka knew they would nearly have forgotten the threat of the Caterans in their terror of the mermaids.

  'Are you able to wait?' Melcorka asked softly. 'Captain Nicolson's original plan was to remain here in the haven until dark and then slip out unseen. Can your nerves stand the wait?'

  'What if the creatures come again?' The freckle faced boy asked. He was about seventeen, with tear-bright eyes and a snub nose.

  'Then I shall kill them again,' Melcorka said simply.

  'We shall wait,' Bradan said. 'The Caterans are as dangerous as the mermaids and there are many more of them.'

  'It will not be easy,' Melcorka told them. 'The mermaids will try again.' She touched the hilt of Defender. 'I think you should find weapons before you venture back to sea.'

  The men nodded, some still visibly trembling. The freckle-faced boy tried to smile, failed and looked away. He did not venture close to the side of the curragh.

  'You'll be all right now,' Bradan tried to comfort him. 'They won't come on board.'

  'If they try,' Melcorka said cheerfully, 'I have this.' She touched Defender.

  'Listen,' one of the oarsmen said. 'They are singing again.'

  'Sing back!' Bradan said. 'Loud songs so we can't hear them.'

  The men began to sing, discordant, nervous, with dry throats and glances at the island where the mermaids soon gathered again. Every time there was a pause in the oarsmen's singing, they could hear the mermaid's enchantments as they called to the men on Prancer.

  'I must go to them,' the freckle-faced boy said. 'I can't fight them.'

  'Let me help you,' Bradan said, and cracked the side of his head with his staff. 'That should take your mind off them.'

  Melcorka smiled. 'I will remember that method next time you are also tempted,' she said. She watched as Bradan's eyes strayed to the central island.

  The singing intensified, so one my one the oarsmen again turned toward the island, their eyes glazing as the mesmeric music coiled around Prancer. Melcorka could nearly see the insidious silken threads as they drifted across the calm sea, tainting the clear blue-green water with their sweet poison.

  'Melcorka,' beads of sweat were coursing down Bradan's face, 'I can't hold on much longer.'

  'You must,' Melcorka held his arm. 'Tell me what you see.'

  'I see you,' Bradan said, 'you and you and you and you. I see four times you and smiling to me.'

  'Describe me,' Melcorka ordered. 'I can see only four women on the island, plain of face and dumpy of form.'

  'Oh God no,' Bradan said. 'They are beautiful.'

  'That is not me, then,' Melcorka said.

  'They are the most beautiful women in creation,' Bradan continued as if Melcorka had not spoken, 'and they all look like you, except as naked as the day you were born.' He was looking at the mermaids on the island, with his voice an appreciative murmur.

  'Then you have no business to be looking,' Melcorka said, although that is not what she thought. While part of her wished to continue, to explore what were obviously Bradan's secret desires, another part of her recoiled from such an intrusion into his privacy.

  'Wait,' Bradan said, 'there is another woman joining them.'

  'I see the other creature,' Melcorka said. 'I do not see a woman: I see a man.'

  The golden music increased as the merman joined them. He was tall and handsome, with a ruggedness that Melcorka found familiar. She knew that face well. Despite knowing that her perception was false, despite knowing that there was evil at work, Melcorka could not help her gaze from drifting down the length of that man's body, from the deep chest to the muscular legs and all the splendour in between.

  'Dear God in his heaven,' she said. 'You are beautifully put together.'

  She could not close her eyes. The man was smiling to her so that he filled her vision and her mind. Nothing else mattered; she had to go to him, to entwine herself in his arm, to taste the pleasures that he was offering, to hold him and be with him and … The pain was sudden and unexpected. Melcorka lay in the bottom of the curragh, staring up at Bradan.

  'You hit me,' she accused.

  'You were falling under the spell,' Bradan told her.

  'Captain!' Melcorka felt the swelling bruise on the side of her head. 'Hoist the sail. We have waited long enough. I would rather face a thousand Caterans than these creatures.'

  Nicolson said nothing. He was staring toward the island, with his hands gripping the bulwark and his mouth open, lost in the enchantment.

  'Bradan!' Melcorka shouted, 'It is up to you and me. Hoist the sail: I'll take the steering oar.'

  The wind was fluky, raising little ripples on the waters of Llyr's Haven as it ghosted between the surrounding skerries and islands. Bradan hauled at the ropes so the great cross-spar lifted up the mast and then the square sail dropped, to waver virginally white in the breeze.

  'There's not enough wind to shift her,' Bradan said.

  'It will get stronger,' Melcorka had to shout above the increasing volume of song as the mermaids realised their prey was trying to escape. She fought the temptation to have one last longing look at that enticingly handsome man. 'Grab a pair of oars and row!'

  That slight extra power pushed Prancer further away from the central island and toward the circle of white water and foam-covered skerries that marked the border of Llyr's haven. Twice the sail bellied under the pressure of wind, and twice it flattened again as the wind veered away. The music increased as the mermaids made a final effort to trap them, and then there was only the sound of breaking waves and splintering spindrift as Prancer was back in the nightmare of skerries, islets and rocks that marked the outer circle of the haven. A faceful of cold spray removed any lingering desire Melcorka had to ogle the merman; she could either steer Prancer clear or be smashed against
the rocks. There was no other choice.

  The only boat that Melcorka had ever steered had been a tiny coracle; this curragh was a far larger vessel but just as responsive. She had to be, with a dozen competing currents between the skerries tossing her around. Melcorka pushed the steering oar to the right as they passed between two snarling skerries; she watched Bradan lift his oars in time to avoid having them crushed and then Prancer jerked sideways in a sudden, violent current.

  An islet that seemed composed of nothing but low ragged cliffs loomed ahead with the sea foaming around its base and outlying skerries waiting to shred the leather of Prancer's hull.

  'We're all going to die!' the freckle-faced boy screamed, until Nicolson pushed Melcorka aside.

  'Give me that steering oar,' he ordered. 'You're no mariner.' He raised his voice. 'Get to your oars, you men!'

  Used to his authority, the crew obeyed, with Bradan taking the place of one of the men the mermaids had dragged away.

  'Starboard side: row! Larboard side: lift oars!' Nicolson gave a string of orders that guided Prancer past the inner ring of skerries.

  Leaving Nicolson to direct the ship, Melcorka took her place on the vacant rowing bench, grabbed the oars and followed orders as best she could. She knew she lacked the skill of the seamen, so her movements were slower and clumsier, yet every ounce of muscle-power might help as Prancer threaded through the seething nightmare of skerries and rocks.

  'Please don't leave me here!' The voice was small and pathetic, pleading rather than alluring yet it carried through the surge and crash of the sea.

  'Who said that?' Nicolson looked around. 'Did anybody else hear that voice?'

  'I did,' Melcorka looked around, not really trusting what she had heard. 'It might be another trick of the mermaids.'

  'It is a child! A little girl!' Bradan pointed to a skerry that was surrounded by seething white water. In the middle, on a seaweed-entwined rock that seemed to be the only part protruding above the water, a small girl stood with both arms raised in supplication.