'Let's find this broch,' Bradan said. 'If Duncan and his survivors wish to leave, they may do so, and God help them crossing these seas. If they wish to come with us, then their help and advice will be most welcome.'
'Don't you wish to hold their hands?' Tuath asked.
'They are adult men,' Bradan replied. 'They can make up their own minds what is best for them.'
Tuath looked at him from beneath bushy eyebrows. 'You are not quite as useless as I thought,' he said.
As Bradan gave a mocking bow, Melcorka hid her smile; that was high praise from Tuath.
'Where is this broch, Duncan?' Bradan tapped his staff on the ground.
Duncan waved his hand in a vague, meaningless gesture. 'Inland somewhere,' he said.
'That is helpful,' Bradan said with more than a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
'Inland is better than nothing.' For once Melcorka acted as peacemaker. She looked around at the deserted village and the smouldering, broken ships. 'We've done all we can do here,' she said. 'Our attempt to flush out the Osprey failed; he did not come to help his men.'
'He is a coward,' Tuath seemed to like that word.
'That may be so,' Melcorka agreed. 'We'll find out when we smoke him out of his nest.'
'And kill him,' Tuath ran a huge hand over the blade of his axe.
Not even Bradan disagreed with that statement. He tapped his stick on the ground, had a last look around the harbour where Duncan was giving orders to the survivors and began to head inland. Hitching up Defender so the sword rode comfortably across her back, Melcorka followed, with Tuath at the rear, battle-axe balanced on his right shoulder.
'Are you sure we are headed in the right direction?' Tuath looked around as the path led between the twin peaks, both shrouded in low cloud. They heard the cry of eagles, loud and harsh from somewhere within the mist.
'There are two roads leading from the harbour,' Bradan said patiently. 'One followed the coast and was faint. This one is broader and better used, fit for a chief, or a prince of Caterans.'
The path was muddy, with occasional deep pools of water to slow them down, while on both side slopes of heather and rough grass rose to rocky crags that vanished in the mist. Their footsteps sounded hollow, echoing and slightly sinister.
'Look behind us,' Tuath said, 'we have followers.'
About twenty of the survivors had chosen to accompany them, a ragged bunch of men who probably hoped that Melcorka could lead them to better times. They shambled up, bow-shouldered and with scared eyes. Melcorka glanced over them; she did not recognise any from the fighting and guessed these men had hung back.
'Do any of you men know where the Osprey's broch is?' Melcorka asked.
She was met with a collective shake of their heads and shrugging of many shoulders.
'They are broken,' Bradan spoke with some sympathy. 'Whatever happened to them has destroyed whatever makes them men. They will follow us like sheep and do exactly as you tell them; nothing more.'
'That may be so,' Melcorka said. 'Let's see if we can put some spirit back inside them.' Jumping on to a prominent boulder, she gestured the men to her. 'Gather round, lads, and let's get to know each other.'
As Bradan had said, they obeyed without question, walking up to her and forming a silent group. Melcorka surveyed them; with their heads down, their eyes avoiding hers and their shoulders hunched, they were not like the men she had known in Alba or Fidach. Indeed, she thought, they were not like men at all.
'Right lads; you did well back there in helping us defeat the Caterans. Tuath and I could not have defeated them without your help.'
That was not enough. The shoulders had not lifted; the eyes had not moved from their study of the ground, the heads had not risen. She had been right; these men had not taken part in the attack on the Caterans.
'Now we are marching to the nest of the Osprey himself. We will find it and we will destroy it and all that cower inside!' Melcorka lifted her hands, more in hope than expectation. It had been a poor speech yet she could think of nothing better.
The survivors stirred a little. One man raised his head to look at her and quickly dropped it again when she smiled to him.
'May I?' Bradan joined her on the boulder. 'Most of you will remember me,' he spoke quietly so the survivors had to concentrate to listen, which was a trick that Melcorka did not know. 'I am Bradan the Wanderer. This woman,' he indicated Melcorka 'is Melcorka the Swordswoman of Alba. She led the coalition that drove the Norse from Alba.'
Some of the men looked up; not at Melcorka but at Bradan.
'This man here,' Bradan pointed to Tuath, 'is Tuath of the Axe, bodyguard of Hector MacRae of Ulvust. He and Melcorka have come specifically to destroy the Osprey and free the seas, your seas, and the islands, your islands, from the scourge of the Caterans. They do not intend to merely damage the Caterans, but remove them forever.'
More of the men moved now as Bradan's low voice purred under the encroaching film of mist. Some edged closer to listen.
'If you help us again,' Bradan said, 'we can do the job quicker and easier and then we can all get home.' He looked over them. 'Now, I cannot order you to help; you are all as free as I am. I can only ask. We are going to move on in a minute; if you wish to help, then come along and welcome. If you do not, then please leave us room to fight and do not get in our way. Either way, I wish you all the luck in the heavens, whatever God you worship.'
Jumping down from the boulder, Bradan signalled to Melcorka to join him and headed up the track.
'The best of them will come with us,' he said, striding along. 'Don't look back; they must make their own decision.'
Bradan was proved correct. Fifteen of the survivors trotted after them, now looking more hopeful. Four, the more spirited, had lifted weapons from the dead Caterans at the harbour; they brandished them with a show of great determination if little skill.
'We are with you,' one middle aged, grey-bearded man announced.
'Then the Osprey will quake in his feathers,' Tuath growled.
Bradan frowned at Tuath. 'Thank you for your support,' he said to the grey-bearded man. 'Try to keep up with us.'
'And now we are eighteen strong,' Melcorka said. 'God help the Osprey.'
'It's not the Osprey I am bothered about,' Bradan said, 'but the birds that are circling around us.' He pointed upward, where four eagles flew around them, calling.
'I've never seen eagles that large before,' Melcorka said. 'They must be as large as a man.'
'As large as two men,' Tuath said. 'I see now why this is called the Island of Eagles.'
'Wait!' Melcorka held up her hand. On the path ahead, a lone eagle stood beside one of the large puddles, drinking. Every so often it would look along the path as if measuring how far the humans had to come, and then it returned to its drinking, dipping its beak into the brownish liquid.
Melcorka touched the hilt of Defender. 'That one is larger even than the ones above us.'
'By the fires of Bel!' Tuath hefted his axe. 'It must be as tall as three men. That is surely the king of all eagles.'
'Wait,' Bradan put out a hand as Tuath stepped forward with his axe ready to strike. 'We are the intruders here. The eagle is in its own territory. We give it time to drink.'
'I could kill it,' Tuath said.
'Of that I have no doubt,' Bradan tapped his staff on the ground, 'but that would avail us nothing except a dead eagle, and that would be no help at all.'
The eagle drank slowly, looking up every few moments as if to see what these strangers were doing on its road. Eventually it spread its wings and took off, surprisingly clumsily at first and then with amazing grace as it found an up draught of air. The survivors gasped at its size; one man yelled in sudden panic, turned and ran away. Nobody called him back.
'Now we continue,' Bradan said, 'and there has been no unnecessary killing.'
'You are a good man, Bradan,' Melcorka said.
'No,' Bradan denied. 'I am only a man.'
Chapter Twelve
'Where did that come from?' Tuath looked around, axe in hand as the arrow quivered slightly in the ground.
'Up there,' Bradan pointed to a cluster of rocks just below the shifting line of mist.
A second arrow hissed down, landed at a shallow angle and skittered across the path. Melcorka picked it up. 'There is no weight in this,' she said, 'and there was no power behind it.' She snapped the shaft between finger and thumb. 'It might penetrate skin but it would not cause any damage unless it hit you in the eye.'
'Somebody is a poor archer,' Bradan scanned the hillside. 'It is hard to see anybody with this mist shifting so much.'
'Wait,' Tuath said. 'They must reveal themselves to fire at us, so I will give them a target. Lifting his arms at right angles to his body, he stepped forward in the direction from which the arrow had come. 'Here, archer! Try and kill me! I'm big enough!' He spread out his cloak to increase the size of the target.
This time Melcorka saw a brief flicker of movement as the archer raised himself to fire, and she threw herself forward. The archer had ducked back down behind a high, lichen-stained boulder, a few yards below the slithering mist. 'Bradan!' she shouted, 'take the left!'
She did not have to shout, for Bradan had also seen the movement and was climbing the hill with his deceptively casual strides that covered the ground as quickly as most men would at a run. Melcorka jumped on to the hill slope with its mixture of rounded boulders, ragged granite rocks and ankle-twisting gaps where near-liquid patches of mud waited to trap the unwary.
With her gaze fixed on the spot where the archer had bobbed up to fire, Melcorka had not seen the flight of the next arrow until she heard Tuath's jeering laugh. 'Is that your best? Is that the best you can do?'
Gasping with effort, Melcorka climbed higher, over smooth grey boulders, ancient as time and slippery with rain and mist. Melcorka jumped onto the large rock she had eyed, sword in hand, expecting to see a Cateran. Instead a slender, red haired girl glared at her.
'You Cateran pig,' the girl was hurriedly fitting another arrow to what was obviously a home-made bow.
'I am no Cateran,' Melcorka dropped beside her and took hold of the bow. It was so fragile it nearly snapped in her hand, 'and you are no warrior to attack them.' She lowered her tone. 'You'll get yourself hurt, little one.'
'I will kill you!' the girl said, swinging her arm in a wild punch that Melcorka blocked with ease.
'No you won't,' Melcorka lifted the girl by her arm, swung her face down over her shoulder and walked down the hill. 'You can get back down the hill now Bradan. It's all right, Tuath; it's only a little girl!'
'A little girl that tried to kill me!' Tuath roared, obviously frustrated that he had nobody to slaughter.
'Now that would look bad, wouldn't it?' Melcorka said, 'a hero like you being bested by a child?'
'You little monster!' Tuath gave the girl a light slap on the bottom, 'what were you thinking?'
'I was trying to kill you, Cateran pigs!' The girl kicked her legs in protest at her undignified treatment. 'Kill me fair!'
'Kill you?' Tuath slapped her again, even more gently. 'You're not worth killing you little shrew! I've got a good mind to…' He lifted his hand to land another tap, until Bradan stepped between them.
'One was too few; two was sufficient and three would be too many. The girl thought you were our enemy; she knows better now!' Bradan held his staff in an attitude of defence as Melcorka shook her head. She knew Tuath was being friendly in his own rough way.
'I could kill you with one finger,' Tuath looked amazed at Bradan's gesture of defiance.
'I know that,' Bradan said.
'So why oppose me?'
'Because you need to be reminded who you are, and what you are not,' Bradan did not flinch as Tuath lifted his axe. 'You are Tuath of the Axe, a noted warrior, not Tuath the bully who hits defenceless and very brave children.'
'What?' Tuath lifted his axe higher, and then gave out a huge roar of laughter. 'You are indeed a strange man, Bradan the Wanderer! Melcorka, let that child down and we shall see how brave she is when she faces me.'
Grinning, Melcorka stooped to allow the girl to stand beside her. The top of her head nearly reached Melcorka's shoulder and her hair was an explosion of red, with twigs and moss as additives, yet she stood erect and glared at Tuath without visible fear. 'Was it you that struck me?' She asked, rubbing at her bottom.
'It was,' Tuath told her. 'And I will strike you again if you aim your arrows in my direction.'
'You are nothing but a bully,' the girl said, 'and when I get older I will teach you how to treat a lady!'
Melcorka looked away to stifle her laughter as Tuath lifted his hand, dropped it and laughed himself.
'You need a good lesson my girl!'
'But this is not the time or place,' Melcorka said, although she did appreciate Tuath's point of view. Having arrows fired at you was not pleasant. 'What is your name, little one?'
'I am Eileen,' the girl said. 'Eileen Nic Marta, of…' she faltered and dashed away a treacherous tear. 'I have no family to be of anywhere. The Caterans killed them all. My father tried to fight them but they were too many, and when they killed him my mother tried to fight and they killed her as well and then my brother fought and they lifted him up and smashed his head open on a rock…' Eileen could not prevent her tears now; they came like the tide as her face crumpled.
It was Bradan who put a hard hand on Eileen's shoulder. 'You are with us now, Eileen, and welcome.'
'I want to kill them,' Eileen said through her sobs. 'I want to kill all of them.'
'We are going to do that right now,' Melcorka said, 'Bradan, that is the man with the staff, me; I am Melcorka, and Tuath, that is the big lump with the axe and the roary voice, and all these men who follow us.'
Eileen looked at Bradan through wise young eyes. 'He is not a warrior and the men who follow are scared even of me. Tuath is the warrior. I do not know if you are. I think you are.'
'You have that correct, Eileen.' Melcorka said. 'Now stay behind us out of danger and please don't fire any more arrows at Tuath.'
They walked on, more cautious as they eased through the pass between the mountains with the mist above and all around them and the constant screams of the eagles harsh in their ears.
'How long have you been on this island Eileen?' Bradan asked.
Eileen looked blank. 'I don't know. What year is it?'
'I don't know that either,' Melcorka said. 'I have never thought about a year having a name!'
'A long time then,' Bradan said. 'Do you know where the Osprey's broch is? Where the chief lives?'
'Of course,' Eileen looked at him as if he was stupid. 'It's only around the corner.'
Eileen was correct. As they rounded a spur of the right hand hill, they came to a near-circular loch. In what might almost have been a mirror image of Hector MacRae's home, a tall broch frowned from an island in the centre of the loch, with faces peering from the battlements, a black flag flying above the doorway and two boats sitting proud on steel-grey water.
'That's the Eagle's Nest,' Eileen said, 'the home of the chief. That is the home of the Osprey and his murdering bloody Caterans.' She spoke with such venom that Melcorka could have smiled, or cried to hear a child deprived of innocence far too young. Instead she pulled Eileen close and squeezed her.
Melcorka the Swordswoman was learning that there were always victims when the sword held sway.
'Bel's fires!' Tuath said as they crouched behind some of the rocks that lay scattered around the loch. 'That place will be tough to take.'
'It will,' Melcorka remembered how strong the defences of Hector's broch had been. She ran her eyes over the walls of the broch, looking for any weakness or fault; any way in. She could see none.
'Especially with only the two of us and a gaggle of spiritless wo
men,' Tuath gestured to the survivors who huddled a hundred paces away, staring at the broch and saying nothing.
Eileen looked around. 'There are four of us,' she sounded puzzled, 'and no other women here.'
Leaning across, Bradan ruffled her hair, smiling as she pulled hurriedly away. 'You are right,' he said, 'there are four of us.'
'Only two warriors though,' Tuath said.
'You are a warrior,' Eileen said, 'but have you ever fought anybody? Who do you belong to?'
'I am Tuath of the Axe, chief bodyguard to Hector MacRae,' Tuath said proudly. 'I have killed twenty seven men, and all armed warriors, no striplings or old grey-beards among them.'
Eileen smiled. 'Good; you will be able to help me kill the Osprey.' She stepped closer to Bradan as he crouched against his rock. 'I know you are not a warrior; what is it that you do?'
'As you say, I am not a warrior. I am Bradan the Wanderer,' Bradan said, still smiling. He proffered his staff. 'I carry a stick only.'
Eileen gasped and moved away.
'It's all right,' Bradan looked very concerned. 'I won't hurt you.'
'I thought you were going to hit me.' Eileen went down to her hands and knees and crawled over to Melcorka. 'Are you a very brave warrior?'
'Some people say I am a warrior,' Melcorka said.
'That is Melcorka, who chased the Norse out of Alba nearly single handed,' Bradan told Eileen, solemn faced, trying to make friends with her again after her fright with the staff.
'Honestly Bradan: every time you tell that story it gets bigger and bolder,' Melcorka said. 'It was not like that, Eileen. I was part of the army that defeated the Norse.'
'You organised it,' Bradan said.
Eileen was looking from one to the other with her little face animated, her eyes bright and her mouth slightly open. 'Are you two going to argue about it?' She asked. 'I hope so. I love to watch grown-ups arguing.'
'No,' Melcorka said, 'we are not going to argue.'
'Oh,' Eileen looked disappointed. 'That's a pity.'
'I know I should have taught you a lesson earlier,' Tuath said, and winked at her. Eileen winked back, and then stuck out her tongue and put her hands to her ears, fingers outspread.
The Shining One (The Swordswoman Book 2) Page 13
