The Shining One (The Swordswoman Book 2)

by Malcolm Archibald

  Gasping with frustration, Melcorka stepped back. The fight was not going well. After all her struggles to escape, after the plotting and planning, the Osprey had turned the tables and was winning this sordid little skirmish with ease. More Caterans arrived in the courtyard, some with swords or spears, and women's faces peered out of the windows, watching the fun. Some openly jeered.

  The idea came to her with such clarity that she nearly laughed. 'Why are you trying to kill me, Osprey?'

  'Why?' The Osprey glowered at her through his one eye. 'Because you escaped from my home, Melcorka, and because you attacked me.'

  'You are killing me for revenge, then?' Melcorka said, hoping that the Osprey would admit that was his reason. She remembered her mother's words when she had first got possession of this magic sword.

  Bearnas put her hands on Melcorka's shoulders. 'Look at me, girl!'

  'Yes, Mother,' Melcorka fixed her gaze on her mother's eyes. They were steady and bright, wise with years.

  'You must never draw blade unless in righteousness; you must defend the weak and the good; you must never kill or wound for sport or fun. Do you understand?'

  'Yes, mother. I understand.'

  'Good,' Bearnas said. 'You must never take pleasure in killing, or kill for revenge or cruelty. You have been granted a gift, and you must use it responsibly or the power will drain and turn against you. Do you understand?'

  Melcorka had understood. She had been unable to kill Egil, her mother's killer, because she had sought revenge with Defender. Now she hoped the same magic would work with the Osprey.

  'Yes, I seek revenge on you.' As the Osprey lifted Defender, all else that happened in the broch faded away. Melcorka could see nothing but the Osprey and the glittering, historic blade that he poised above her. His single eye gleamed at her, with the great scar writhing like an evil white snake, while his hair surrounded his head like a white halo, enhancing his ugliness as he poised Defender, point outward, ready to split her in half.

  Melcorka lifted her borrowed sword, knowing that the blade was no match for Defender, knowing that the magic blade could shear through anything made by man, yet also knowing that Defender could not kill except in a good cause. She was taking a chance that Defender controlled its own destiny, and taking a chance that Defender believed that she was not an evil person, despite the men she had killed and the deeds she had done. Putting her faith in her own sword and her mother's words, Melcorka dropped her borrowed sword and waited for death, or for life.

  The Osprey's face was twisted with fury and delight as he put all his strength into his swing. Melcorka saw Defender slice toward her; she saw the reflection of the torches along its familiar blade, and the tiny glitter of diamonds and rubies that had been used to complete the sharp temper of the steel.

  Would it be death by her own blade, or would it be life? Was she right to put such trust in her mother's words?

  The Osprey yelled as Defender stopped of her own accord, with the blade an inch from the top of Melcorka's head. Melcorka saw a shudder run through him. He shouted and lifted the sword again, trying a sideways swipe at Melcorka's neck. Again Defender stopped herself.

  'You can't kill me with that sword,' Melcorka said calmly.

  'Then I shall use my dirk,' the Osprey said, dropping Defender and drawing the arm-long blade from beneath his arm.

  As the Osprey held the wickedly sharp, single edged dirk, the weapon of choice of the Caterans, Melcorka knew she was in danger of being gutted. The Osprey swept his arm back, preparing to use the vicious groin stroke that spitted a man or woman from groin to stomach so he or she died in unspeakable agony with their intestines spilling out over the ground.

  Ducking away, Melcorka scrabbled for Defender on the rocky ground, missed and cursed. She rolled away and looked up, seeing the renewed glee in the Osprey's face as he lifted the dirk, aiming to slash it across her face. Struggling to her feet, she backed off, so the Osprey shifted his stance, going again for the most sensitive organs.

  No different to anybody else facing a similar threat, Melcorka recoiled, hauling her middle away from the dirk. The Osprey laughed and slashed at her face, enjoying her fear.

  Bradan's staff cracked down on the Osprey's wrist. Bradan was a tough, wiry man but lacked the trained strength of a warrior. The staff diverted the Osprey's stroke off target enough for it to miss its mark, yet did not knock the dirk out of his hand. The knife sliced Melcorka, drawing blood from her right shoulder and causing her to gasp and pull even further away.

  'Sword!' Bradan yelled as he pulled back his staff, aimed and slammed it forward, aiming at the Osprey's throat. He missed as the Osprey, veteran of a hundred skirmishes, jinked sideways. Momentarily off balance, Bradan staggered forward, exposing himself to the Osprey's lunging dirk. The Osprey recovered his stance, altered his grip on the hilt of his dirk and slashed toward Bradan's chest.

  Already moving toward her sword, Melcorka took advantage of the Osprey's distraction, kicked up Defender with her right foot, caught the blade a third of the way up and thrust it forward. She felt the initial thrill as she held Defender, and then a secondary thrill when the blade sunk into the Osprey's chest.

  The Osprey roared and stared at her in disbelief. His attack on Bradan faltered so Bradan easily parried with his staff, staring at Melcorka with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

  Melcorka ripped Defender from side to side within the Osprey's chest and hauled the blade free. Blood spurted out in a frantic jet, covering her and splashing around the courtyard. Despite his terrible wound, the Osprey lifted his dirk again and made a stab at her, which she parried with Defender, dropped her hands to the hilt and faced him as the life blood covered him from chest to feet.

  'You killed me,' the Osprey sounded surprised as he slumped to the ground, still spurting blood.

  'I know,' Melcorka said, knelt beside him and pressed her hand over the wound, slowing the flow of blood.

  'What are you doing?' the Osprey asked. 'Let me die!'

  'Why did you do it?' Did Eileen find this island? Where are all the men you captured?'

  'Eileen?' The Osprey spat out blood. 'You know nothing!' He grinned, showing bloodstained teeth. 'You will never know the truth, swordswoman! Even in death I have defeated you!'

  'Was it you?' Melcorka knew the Osprey was dying. 'Why did you capture so many men? Where are they now?'

  'You will never know; now let me die clean!' the Osprey begged.

  'I will,' Melcorka promised. 'As soon as you tell me where the missing men are. You have captured hundreds; we found many less than that on the island.'

  'It was not me,' fear had replaced defiance in the Osprey's single eye. 'I handed them to the Shining One.'

  'To whom?' Melcorka asked, as the Osprey stiffened. His eye widened and he opened his mouth in a last terrible scream. 'He will come for you as he has for me!' He writhed, gasping, and, frustratingly, died without saying more.

  'The Shining One,' Bradan said quietly. 'Dear God in heaven, the Shining One. I thought he was only a myth.'

  It was then that Melcorka realised how quite they courtyard was. A few moments ago the place had been the scene of a battle, now there was a deathly hush save for the moans of wounded men. Melcorka looked around. Tuath was leaning on his own battle-axe, panting slightly and the survivors were all around, watching Melcorka and Bradan. The only Caterans she could see were dead or close to death.

  'You did well, Tuath,' she said.

  'As did you,' Tuath jerked a massive thumb at the Osprey. 'He was a noted warrior,' he looked around at the sprawled bodies of the Caterans that littered the ground. 'These were peasants with swords, untrained rubbish that I could have killed in my sleep.'

  Melcorka retrieved her scabbard from the back of the Osprey, wiped it clean of blood and began to scour Defender's blade. 'I believe that means that Bradan and Alva are safe.' She looked at Tuath, ready to fight him if necessary. She knew he would obey any order that Hector had given him. 'Unle
ss Hector told you to kill us once the Caterans were defeated.'

  'Hector ordered me to kill you only if you and Bradan tried to escape,' Tuath said with total honesty. 'But now our mission is complete. We have eradicated the nest of Caterans and killed their leader. Now all we have to do is get back to Hector.'

  'That may not be easy,' Melcorka remembered the whirlpool that barred their outward progress.

  'There will be a way,' Bradan said. 'The Caterans would not sail through these dangerous seas every time; they would lose most of their ships.'

  Melcorka smiled. 'Then we have to find out their route … it is a pity we have left none alive.'

  'Melcorka!' Liam had been staring out of the gateway. 'There are more Caterans coming! Hundreds and hundreds of them!'

  Chapter Sixteen

  Melcorka led the rush outside, with Defender held ready and Tuath at her side. 'I thought we had rid ourselves of this plague,' she said.

  'So did I,' Tuath said. 'We have cut off the head; it appears that now we have to destroy the body.' He lifted his axe. 'Let them come.'

  They stood outside the broch, side by side and with Duncan and the other survivors behind them as the morning sun climbed above the hill to the east.

  'Where are these Caterans?' Tuath asked.

  'I saw them come over the hill,' Liam said. 'And now they have gone.'

  'They must have withdrawn to lure us into an ambush,' Melcorka said.

  'They heard how good we are,' Tuath said. 'They know we outnumber them, two to hundreds!' His laugh was sardonic. 'Shall we kill some Caterans?'

  They moved forward at a trot with Bradan a step behind and the others following, less reluctant than Melcorka had expected. Pushing herself in front, Melcorka ran up the pass between the two hills beyond the loch, following the burn until she reached the source, high up and with a splendid view over the island. She stopped there to allow Tuath and the others to catch up as she looked over to the far side of the island and the sea beyond.

  'Dear God,' she gasped.

  'By the fires of Bel,' Tuath's breath was ragged.

  'Where have these all been hiding?' Melcorka asked. She ran her fingers the length of Defender's blade.

  'They must have been on a raid,' Tuath swung his axe around his head before balancing in on his right shoulder.

  This east side of the island slithered away in a succession of heathery ridges that slowly reduced in size until they merged with a coastal plain. Beyond the shore there was an area of calm water, within a continuous line of skerries marked by seething white water that extended a mile or more out to sea. Spread out over the calm water was a fleet of black-sailed ships, nearly end to end. Their crews stood on the heather in massed ranks, score after score, hundred after hundred with their captains in front and the sun glittering on the blades of spears and swords. In the centre, prominent and sinister in her guise as a beautiful mature woman, Eileen stood within a small group of handy looking warriors under a flapping black banner.

  'I don't think that the Osprey was the leader here,' Tuath said, 'I think it was that woman.'

  'Is she the Shining One?' Melcorka asked. 'I remember Hector using that term.'

  'And you don't want to hear it again,' Bradan said.

  'More importantly,' Tuath said, 'how do we defeat these Caterans? She has an entire army here; hundreds of warriors.'

  'And here comes the first rush.' Melcorka said. 'They have seen us.'

  Led by a tall captain in a deerskin coat, a company of around twenty Caterans rushed forward. Two more groups followed at their heels, splitting into two distinct columns. They advanced over the heather with brandished swords and thrusting spears, hard faces and loud slogans.

  'You men!' Tuath yelled to the survivors, 'support us! Melcorka; I will take the right column.'

  'And I the left,' Melcorka said. She hauled Defender from her scabbard in a slither of steel and leather, laughed at the now-familiar surge of power and ran to meet the Caterans.

  They advanced in a mob, slashing with their swords and thrusting with their short spears, careless of Melcorka's charge. She stopped when they came close, held Defender above her head and sliced left and right, left and right, seeing heads and arms flying through the air, tasting the raw blood that filmed the air, hearing the expected screams and curses as men fell before her. After that there were a few moments of confusion and killing as she parried and dodged strokes, ducked away, hacked at arms and legs and laughed as the Cateran attack melted away before her.

  'Well,' she said, hardly out of breath as she grinned to Tuath. 'That was easy enough.'

  'They died well,' Tuath leaned on the head of his axe. 'Not a man turned to flee; they just ran onto my axe.'

  'And onto my sword,' Melcorka said.

  'Wait,' Bradan said. 'There is something not right here. Look at the bodies; listen to them! Look at the other Caterans and the ships.'

  Melcorka cleaned the blade of Defender on a wisp of rough grass, and then dropped the grass. 'What do you mean, Bradan? They look dead enough to me.'

  'Every company is the same. Melcorka; they all stand the same and the ships are in groups of five- look!'

  Melcorka examined the ships; Bradan was correct. They were in flotillas of five, with each flotilla a mirror image of the next. The leading ship of each group had her mast at exactly the same angle, with her sail furled the same way. The oars were shipped in precisely the exact manner, and the shields hung in a row along the hull in the same pattern, with the third one a fraction lower than the others.

  'The ships are exact copies of each other,' Melcorka agreed.

  She turned her attention to the men. Each captain stood the same distance in front of his men, wore a short deerskin coat, carried a battle-axe across his shoulders the same way, and had exactly the same number of men in his company.

  'They are not real.' Bradan said. 'None of them.' He clutched his staff as if his soul depended on it.

  'They felt real when they attacked us,' Melcorka said.

  'Look at the bodies,' Bradan said. 'Study them!'

  The Cateran casualties lay in a twisting carpet, dead and dying together on the heather. As Melcorka looked, she realised that the faces were similar, the groans repetitive and even the wounds the same. It was as if she examined the same group of men again and again.

  'How can this be?' She asked. 'What is happening here?' She looked at Tuath and at herself. 'We killed these men as easily as if we were swatting flies; neither of us have any hurt. You have the same bruise on your head and the limp where the arrow hit your…'

  'I know where it hit me,' Tuath said. 'There is no need to remind me.' He lifted his axe. 'I do not know what is happening. I do know that the next company is attacking us.'

  Melcorka nodded. 'You are right,' she said, lifting Defender to face them. She did not mention the weariness of her muscles, the way her arms and legs ached or the stiffness of her back. These things did not matter; she had to fight and defeat these Caterans and any other group that fate sent their way. Her life, Bradan's life and the life of little Alva depended on her continuing courage and skill.

  'Come to us!' she yelled, 'I am Melcorka!'

  The Caterans attacked in the same manner as before, with the captain in front wielding his axe and the crew following in regular ranks.

  'Melcorka!' Bradan's voice was urgent. 'Do you trust me?'

  'Bradan, I am a bit busy just now,' Melcorka said. 'I have a hundred Caterans to kill.'

  'Do you trust me?' Bradan asked again.

  'Yes of course I do,' Melcorka stepped slightly to the side to allow room for the swing of Defender and of Tuath's mighty axe.

  'Then don't interfere!' Bradan said, and ran forward.

  'Bradan!' Melcorka shouted as he ran past the advancing Caterans and approached Eileen. The Caterans ignored him as if he was not there; they continued their roaring attack on Melcorka and Tuath. Melcorka looked at Bradan and then she had no time to think.

  The Cater
ans were on them. The captain swung his axe at Bradan, roaring his war-cry, and then the first rank were all around them, spears jabbing, swords lunging and slashing and mouths wide open as they yelled their slogans of death.

  Melcorka swung Defender and watched the front rank fall like oats before a sickle, with legs and arms and heads flying and blood spouting to descend like a crimson curtain, as it had in every previous fight she had been in.

  'They die well,' Melcorka gasped, as she sliced a man in half with a single swing of her sword.

  'We fight better,' Tuath roared, hacking a man's legs off his body above the knees. 'What is your friend doing?'

  Stepping back, Melcorka took a second to watch Bradan. He had run straight to Eileen with his staff stretched out like a spear before him. Eileen recoiled before him, her face twisted in genuine fear.

  'What is happening?' Melcorka asked, 'That devil has the power to destroy him, and all of us.'

  'Your friend Bradan is a fool,' Tuath said as he casually killed another Cateran. 'Yet you are right: that Daoine Sidh creature looks scared of him.'

  'It's the staff!' Melcorka said. 'It's made of rowan wood.' She stepped forward to meet the next Cateran wave.

  For some reason the Cateran charge faltered. They stood immobile, frozen, with static faces and upraised swords. Melcorka had time to watch as Bradan approached Eileen with his staff stabbing, thrusting. Even the lightest touch forced her to back away, emitting high pitched squeals that Melcorka heard above the roar of battle.

  What roar of battle? Even that had stilled. The slogans of the charging Caterans, the groans of the wounded and even the moans of the dying were absent. There was silence except for the ever-present whisper of the wind through the heather and the soft surge of surf on the shore.

  Melcorka blinked and looked at Tuath, who shook his great hairy head. 'I have never seen the like,' he said.

  'Nor I,' Melcorka said, and watched Bradan.

  Eileen retreated with Bradan following step by step until the Daoine Sidh was trapped against a rock. She held out her hands imploringly but Bradan was implacable. He placed the end of his staff against her forehead, right between her eyes, and pressed firmly.