'I am coming toward you!' Melcorka shouted, and thrust her sword into the throat of the Cateran who opposed her. The stairs were dark and crowded with men; so many that they got in each other's way. 'You will all die!' Melcorka taunted. She took a step downward and heard the blare of a horn from somewhere outside. Many of the Caterans facing her decided that they had better things to do than stand and be killed by Defender. They turned and fled, crashing against those at the rear who still pressed to come upward, with one unlucky man remaining to act as rearguard. He stared at her, holding his sword in a defensive position, his mouth open and blue eyes half closed.
'Your friends have abandoned you,' Melcorka dropped her guard so Defender pointed to the stone floor, blood dripping from the point. 'Had you not better join them? I can kill you later if you wish to fight me.'
Seeing Melcorka apparently defenceless, the man shouted: 'I'd rather kill you now' and lunged at her.
Melcorka had read his intentions in his eyes. She waited until he was committed to his attack and flicked up Defender's point. The Cateran's leap brought him forward so Defender penetrated his groin. His eyes widened and his mouth opened in wordless agony. Melcorka watched him writhe for a long second before she took pity on him and thrust upward. Defender penetrated his body as far as his heart, and then Melcorka ripped the sword sideways, splitting him nearly in two.
'You tried your best.' She stepped over the mess of blood, splintered bone and entrails that was what remained of the Caterans she had butchered.
The upper level of the broch seemed empty of Caterans, while the upturned chairs and tables and scattered clothes, tankards and pieces of domestic crockery argued for a rapid exit. Melcorka grinned, held Defender point-upward in both hands and moved cautiously onward, checking every corner and place of concealment of each chamber before she deemed it safe. She had no intention of leaving some assassin who could creep up behind her and disable her with the upward stroke of a dirk so beloved of Caterans. She had seen these light infantrymen operate against the Norse and knew how viciously effective their tactics could be.
There were three chambers in that level, all built within the double walls of the broch and all empty of human life. Another flight of stone stairs led downward to the middle level. Melcorka stopped on the top step.
'Tuath!' She yelled. 'That's the top floor cleared.'
'And the ground floor!' Tuath's cheerful roar was welcome.
'We'll meet on the next level!' Melcorka shouted, and peered into the shrouding darkness of the stairway. She heard a faint fluttering, as if there was a bird loose within the broch, and frowned.
There was something not right here. Things had been too easy so far. If this was the Osprey's headquarters, then why was it not better defended? Every chieftain surrounded himself with a body of retainers that would include at least one bodyguard, so a chief of Caterans would have more than one, in case of a disgruntled follower or an attack by one of his victims. So far, Melcorka thought, she had only met ordinary warriors with less than ordinary skills.
'Osprey!' she shouted. 'Show yourself! If you surrender you will get a fair trial by Hector MacRae or the Constable of the Isles.'
There was no response from the gloom of the middle level except that rustling of feathers. Holding Defender before her, Melcorka stepped cautiously downward, peering into the dark, ready for a sudden rush of Caterans or the evil hiss of a flight of arrows. She was not prepared for the sudden flare of torches highlighting the group of terrified women who blinked at her through wide, tear-bright eyes.
'Welcome Melcorka,' a deep voice sounded from beyond the circle of torch-light. 'We have been expecting you.'
'Show yourself!' Melcorka turned around, facing this way and that, staring into the shadows. 'If you are the Osprey, come and fight me like a man!'
'I have no need to,' the voice sounded again. 'You are about to put down your sword and surrender.'
'I am not,' Melcorka took another step forward and stopped. There were a dozen women tied together, two by two, as well as bound hand and foot. They pleaded with her through wide eyes above viciously tight gags. Two men held the torches high; they seemed like typical Caterans, unkempt, ragged of clothes, with a long dirk thrust through the belts at their waists.
'Do you value your life so highly that you will allow others to die for you?' That was followed by a low chuckle from beyond the flaring torches.
'If I kill you, these women will live,' Melcorka said, hearing her words echo around that stone chamber.
'Perhaps,' the voice said, 'perhaps. Bradan, however, will die, and poor little Eileen will be no more.'
The names chilled Melcorka. 'If they are hurt in any way then I shall surely destroy you and tear this broch down until it is not even a memory.'
'Here they are!' the voice sounded and two people were thrown into the circle of light. One was Eileen, tightly bound hand and foot. The other was Bradan, tied in the same way and also gagged. He struggled to his feet and tried to relay some message to Melcorka with his eyes. She stepped forward, sword poised, and an arrow thudded into the floor between Bradan's feet.
'We will not kill him clean,' the voice said. 'We will shoot him in his arms, legs and belly so he dies slowly and painfully; and then we shall do the same to the child.'
'Fight me!' Melcorka pleaded. She was in unchartered territory here. She knew how to fight and how not to fight, but was lost in the duplicity of men such as the Osprey. 'Fight me clean!'
Another arrow hissed, to land a finger's width from Eileen's legs. The girl emitted a powerful scream. 'Melcorka! Please don't let them kill me!'
Melcorka saw Bradan shake his head, but the message could mean anything. She knew she could not let him and Eileen die for her. She took a deep breath; the Osprey had defeated her, by guile and duplicity. Fully aware that she would probably be dead in a few moments, Melcorka placed Defender on the ground at her feet.
'Kick the sword toward me,' the voice commanded, and Melcorka did so. Defender lay just inside the circle of torchlight where she could see it. With luck she would manage to get it back … that hope died as a hand reached out and snatched it up.
'Lights!' That voice commanded and more torches flared all around the chamber.
Melcorka blinked and looked around her.
The walls of the chamber were lined with men, each with a bow drawn to his chin and an arrow aimed either at her or at Bradan. Standing with his back to the only other door was a nondescript man with a prominent nose, a mane of pure white hair and a terrible scar across his face that had obliterated his left eye.
'You are the Osprey,' Melcorka said, then raised her voice to a shout. 'Tuath! Don't come up here! It's a trap!'
The Osprey smiled. 'I am the Osprey.' He stepped away from the door. 'Bring him in,' he said. The door opened and two men dragged in the unconscious form of Tuath. Only when they threw him to the ground did Melcorka see the arrow in his left buttock and the bloody mess across the back of his head.
'He is not dead,' the Osprey said. 'Not yet. He will tell me more about his master, Hector MacRae, before he dies.'
'You won't get anything from him,' Melcorka said.
'Yes we will,' the Osprey said quietly. 'We know all about him and his woman Igraine; he has quite a mouth on him and Eileen here listens well.'
Melcorka frowned. 'You will question a child?'
When the Osprey smiled his scar writhed horribly, as if a white snake was wriggling across his face and disappearing into his empty eye-socket. 'Which child?' he said and began to convulse with laughter that his archers shared. 'Free her.'
A tall, saturnine man sidled from among the archers, pulled a dirk from beneath his arm and sliced the bonds that held Eileen. 'There you are, My Lady,' he bowed to her with a show of respect.
'I am indeed Eileen,' the girl's voice had altered, deepened and matured, and as Melcorka looked, so did her face. 'Yet I have many other names. As I told you, I am older than I look.'
&nbs
p; 'You are not a child,' Melcorka said.
'I was old when your grandmother's grandmother was not even a thought,' Eileen said.
'You are of the People of Peace,' Melcorka felt betrayed; she eyed the man who held Defender, wondering if she could jump across, grab her sword and free Bradan before the archers loosed.
Eileen bowed. 'I am of the Daoine Sidh, as you say.' She was altering even as Melcorka watched; changing into a dark haired, strikingly good looking woman.
The last time Melcorka had seen that woman, she had been standing on the prow of a Cateran ship. Eileen, or whatever name she chose, had been spying on them all the time. They had been doomed from the moment they had tried to help what they thought was a scared and vulnerable young child.
'I have never had any quarrel with the People of Peace,' Melcorka told her. There were too many archers. She could not kill them all before some fired at Bradan.
'You have never met me,' Eileen said.
'I saw you on a ship,' Melcorka reminded as Eileen gave a little smile.
I will kill you, Melcorka thought.
'Tie this woman up,' the Osprey ordered, 'and put all three of them in the dungeon. We shall question them tomorrow.' His laugh was not pleasant. 'I have a special fate for you, Melcorka the Swordless; a fate that only one of us will enjoy.'
Deprived of her sword, Melcorka was only an ordinary woman, no match for the wiry Caterans who grabbed her. Together with Bradan and Tuath she was hustled to the lowest level of the broch, a rock hewn pit that sat under the exterior walls.
'You tried so hard,' Eileen said as two hefty Caterans dragged back the iron bolt that secured a trap door above the dungeon. 'It is nearly a shame that you failed so spectacularly.'
When the door opened a draught of foul air wafted out.
'Drop them in carefully,' Eileen ordered. 'I don't want them dead; they will be so much more fun tomorrow when they are fit and healthy to begin with.'
They lowered Tuath in first, with Bradan next and finally Melcorka. The last thing she saw was Eileen's eyes, dark and hazel and brooding, before the trap door was banged shut, the bolt dragged across and they were left alone with the bitter knowledge of defeat and the even more caustic misery of their own thoughts.
Chapter Thirteen
'That did not go exactly as planned,' Melcorka said. Wriggling closer to Bradan she turned her back so she could use her tied hands to wrestle the gag free from his mouth.
'Not quite,' Bradan agreed.
'How did they capture you?' Melcorka asked.
'With far too much ease,' Bradan sounded bitter. 'That Eileen creature began to scream that the Caterans had her so I ran to help her and right into an ambush. They threw my staff into the loch and brought me into the broch.'
'We were both victims of the same type of trap,' Melcorka said. 'Eileen was planted to lure us in right from the beginning.'
'Evil little bastard,' Bradan said. 'I always said I distrusted the People of Peace. No wonder she avoided my staff. It's made of rowan wood remember.'
'I remember,' Melcorka said. She did not say that it had done them precious little good. 'Try to untie these ropes.'
They wriggled together until they could reach each other's bonds. 'These are tied well,' Melcorka said as she struggled with the knots.
'Here,' Tuath's voice was welcome in the dark, 'Let me.' He joined them so all three were back-to-back in the centre of the dungeon. 'I was slaughtering them like sheep until they captured me. Like rotten sheep.'
'How are you?' Melcorka asked. 'You have an arrow in your backside.'
'I know that,' Tuath said. 'I noticed it was there.' He grunted. 'Maybe one of you could pluck it out for me.'
'We can't even get these ropes untied,' Braden said.
'Who said anything about untied? These Caterans are seamen; they know how to tie ropes with knots that last forever. They took my axe and dirk but did not search me. I have a skein-dhu, a black knife, under my armpit. If one of you could get it free we'll get rid of these ropes.'
Melcorka lifted herself over the top of Tuath and groped for the hilt of the knife. 'I have it,' she said and slumped back down. 'It's sharp,' she said as she felt the bite of steel in her fingers and the warm flow of blood.
'Yes,' Tuath agreed. 'Could you stop trying to saw my fingers off? I need them to hold my axe.'
'How did they capture you?' Melcorka asked.
'I was doing well,' Tuath said, 'I was slaughtering them like sheep…'
'You said that,' Melcorka said.
Tuath grunted. 'I must have killed ten, twenty of them and then somebody at the top of the stairs dropped a net on me, weighed at the edges so I could not throw it off. A man came close and fired into my arse, so I turned to kill him and about a dozen Caterans jumped on me.'
'Clever move,' Melcorka said, continuing to saw and hoping the knife was somewhere near the cords that held Tuath rather than on his hands.
Tuath gasped and jerked his hands free. 'That's me. Well done Melcorka; you left me with nearly all my fingers. Now give me the knife.'
Within a few moments they were all free and rubbing at wrists and ankles as they tried to look around in the stygian dark.
Tuath tried to pull the arrow out and gasped. 'I will need your assistance here,' he said.
'Happy to help,' Melcorka said cheerfully. 'Lie on your face and we'll soon get that out of you!' She waited for Tuath to lie down and knelt beside him. She lifted his kilt. 'This will sting a little' she said, and gave the arrow a tentative tug. Tuath gasped and twisted.
'It is quite deep in the muscle,' Melcorka said. 'I may have to cut it out.' Using the knife to cut open Tuath's leine, she took hold of the arrow and twisted it slightly. 'That's easier now,' she said, and began a slow, remorseless pull, ignored Tuath's protests and slid the arrow free. 'You were lucky,' she said. 'It is made from whale bone and there is no barb.'
'I don't feel very lucky,' Tuath said, with one hand rubbing at his wound.
'You'll live,' Melcorka said without sympathy. She looked around and spoke, more to take Tuath's mind off his discomfort than anything else. 'I've never been in a dungeon before.'
'I have,' Tuath took the bait. 'MacNeil of Barra had me in one when I was a young lad.' He said no more. 'They are not easy to escape from.'
'We could wait until they feed us and overpower the guards,' Bradan said.
'Who says they will ever feed us?' Tuath asked.
'There is air in here, so there must be a window or opening of some sort.' Melcorka said. 'Check the walls and trapdoor. Maybe it is loose.'
'And maybe the Osprey will release us, give us our weapons back and allow us to take him back to Hector as our prisoner.' Tuath was less optimistic.
They edged around the perimeter of the dungeon, pushing and shoving without much hope and even less success.
'The walls are solid rock,' Melcorka said at last. 'It looks as if the dungeon was hacked into it; there is no way out there.'
'The trap door is secure as well,' Tuath said. 'I cannot shift it even a fraction and I am the strongest man I know.'
'And the most modest,' Melcorka said. 'Yet there is air coming in from somewhere.'
'And water,' Bradan said. 'The dungeon is filling with water. Feel along the walls.' She stopped as a spurt of cold water splashed onto his face. 'Here we are.'
Tuath put a huge hand on the wall. 'There is a square hole here as large as a man's head.'
'Is it large enough to get out of?' Melcorka stood up, feeling for the hole.
'Not unless you are very small,' Bradan said and cursed as another dollop of cold water surged into his face.
'I am smaller than you are,' Melcorka pushed an arm through the hole. 'This place is not a dungeon; it's a torture chamber. They put their prisoners in here and drown them slowly.'
'That might be the way of it,' Bradan said. 'Wait; did you hear that?'
'Hear what? I heard nothing,' Tuath said.
'Nor did I. What was it?
' Melcorka asked.
'My name. I heard my name.' Bradan lifted his head higher to hear better. 'There it is again.' He pulled himself up to the gap in the wall. 'It's coming from out there.'
'There's only the loch out there,' Tuath said.
'And this.' Bradan reached out of the gap and hauled in his staff. 'It must have floated out when the Caterans threw it into the loch.'
'You said that it called to you,' Tuath said, smiling.
'It did,' Bradan ran his hand the length of his staff. 'A frithir gave me this. She said it was doubly blessed.'
'It did not help against Eileen,' Tuath said. His arrow wound, or the knock on his head, was making him more bad tempered than usual.
'Perhaps it did,' Bradan said, smoothing a hand over his staff. 'We are all alive still.'
'We are all stuck in a dungeon that is filling with water,' Tuath shouted. 'We can drown tonight or be murdered tomorrow.'
'Or escape before either happens,' Melcorka said. 'I might squeeze out of this hole.'
'Only if we cut bits off you so you fit,' Tuath said brutally.
'Or make the hole larger,' Melcorka was equally blunt. 'You have the knife; you can go first.'
Tuath glared at her in protest, saw the sense of her words and began work, grunting as he began to scrape at the hard rock around the hole. Because of his bulk, the pain of his wounds and the constricted position in which he had to work, it was not long before his breathing was laboured and his labours slowed.
'Move over,' Melcorka said cheerfully, 'we'll work in rotation.'
They took turns each, scraping at the rock surrounding the hole and with the gap growing painfully larger as the night wore on. They worked until their fingers ached and until the blade of the knife wore thin, they worked until the sweat started from every pore and until every muscle screamed in protest; and still they worked.
'You do realise that the bigger we make the hole, the more of the loch comes in and the faster we will drown?' Bradan said.
'You're not helping,' Melcorka said as she eased the blade of the knife under a small knob of rock, gradually removed it and felt a small twist of triumph as it flicked free.
The Shining One (The Swordswoman Book 2) Page 15
