The grey man put his hand inside his bag again, and Erik ducked, pushed Legbiter forward and sliced at MacBain's thigh with a drawing stroke that opened a massive wound. The glow from the Clach Bhuaidh faded further.
MacBain staggered, lurched to one side and gave a hopeful, hopeless swing with his sword that Erik parried, twisted Legbiter and broke MacBain's blade in two. The Clach Bhuaidh rolled from the hilt, to lie on the surface of the sand, sinking slightly. Roaring in rage, MacBain drew the dirk from under his left arm and hopped forward, thrusting in the underhanded groin stroke. Erik blocked the blade with his shield, twisted to his left and slashed again with Legbiter.
With both thighs sliced open, MacBain fell to the ground, still flailing with his dirk. Erik laughed, stepped aside and chopped down with Legbiter, cutting off the fingers of MacBain's right hand. Still with a hand inside his bag, the man in grey came closer, staring at MacBain. The ground pulled the Clach Bhuaidh further down until the sand closed around it, extinguishing the glow.
“Enough, Erik!” Melcorka stepped forward, balancing Defender on her right shoulder. “I know your tricks.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Once again, Melcorka saw herself lying on that sandy ground, with a tall man standing over her and Bradan walking away with another woman. So this is how I die, she thought. It is a fitting end for a warrior.
Erik looked up, just as MacBain drew his skean dhu and threw it. The point of the blade pierced Erik's left leg and dropped, leaving a tiny wound.
Erik shook his head, dipped a finger in the blood, tasted it and smiled. Stepping over MacBain, he thrust Legbiter into the wounded man's chest and twisted. MacBain died without a groan.
With Erik's victory over the Alban champion, the left Norse formation gave a great roar and pushed forward. With their shields interlocked, swords and spears thrusting in unison, the Norsemen brushed the Alban skirmishers aside and crashed into the left flank of the Alban army.
“I thought I had already killed you.” Erik was not out of breath. “I left you alive. I won't make that mistake a second time.”
“You won't get the chance,” Melcorka said, with more confidence than she felt. For all her adventures since last she fought Erik, she had not increased the power of Defender one iota and had not learned how to decrease the strength of Legbiter. All Melcorka had learned was the reason for Erik's skill.
Erik waited, with MacBain's blood dripping from Legbiter. “You cannot defeat me, Melcorka. I have Loki's Sword.”
“That is not Loki's sword,” Melcorka stood in a half-crouch, holding Defender before her, point-upward in a double-handed grip. “Your sword has the power of the Cu-saeng, the dark god of the underworld. You do not control it – the sword controls you.”
“I am Erik Egilsson,” Erik said, “and this is Legbiter, my sword.” He clashed the blade against his shield. “My father killed your mother. I will kill you.”
“That may happen,” Melcorka moved in a half-circle, awaiting Erik”s attack, trying to keep one eye on the battle behind her. “Who is the man in grey?”
“He is my servant,” Erik looked momentarily puzzled. “Why do you ask?”
“He is the servant of the Cu-saeng,” Melcorka said. “I have met his like before. He is no friend of yours, Erik.”
Behind her, the Alban line was bending. The Norse had held the attack of the wedge while the second Norse battle line was creating havoc with the Alban flank. Men were falling by the dozen as the Norse blades hewed at them, with Mael Coluim shouting from the blunted edge of the wedge and the blue boar banner dipping. Norse horns were blaring, and the chanting rose high in the air.
“Odin! Odin claims you! Odin!”
As the Albans wavered, a new force appeared, trotting beside the sea, the hellish hordes of the Cu-saeng, cat women and cat warriors, the men in grey, the cannibals and moss-men that Melcorka had encountered on her journeying across the land.
On a word from the High King, a force of Alban skirmishers moved out to delay the fresh host, throwing spears and firing arrows as quickly as they could. When the woman in grey slid to the front of the evil horde, the grey men removed their hoods and stared at the skirmishers, who immediately stopped. Standing still, they did nothing as the evil ones swept past them. The cannibals turned on them, rending them with sharp nails and gnawing teeth.
“Dear Lord,” Melcorka said as the fresh host circled the battle-lines to pounce on the Albans' right flank.
“Not your Lord,” Erik says. “Odin rules here, and Loki.” He stepped forward, with his shield held high, so only his eyes were visible above it, and Legbiter firm in his right hand.
Facing Erik, Melcorka felt a familiar ache in her legs, where Legbiter had scarred her. She crouched lower, instinctively keeping her distance, watching Legbiter in case Erik should sweep towards her thighs. The grey servant stepped back, watching, with no apparent emotion in his face.
“Scared, Melcorka?” Erik jeered. “Have I taught you to feel fear?”
Rather than reply, Melcorka feinted to Erik's left, saw him shift his shield in that direction and changed her attack to his right. He countered swiftly, but Defender took a slice of wood off his shield.
Good. The power of evil in Legbiter does not extend to his shield. Melcorka withdrew, ready for the inevitable counter-attack. That came swiftly as Erik tapped Legbiter on the rim of his shield and swung low, at Melcorka's legs. She parried with a twist of her wrists, felt the shock of contact and tried to disarm Erik with a sudden outwards swing. He held her blow, so for a moment, they were sword to sword, staring into each other's eyes.
Melcorka sensed the dark shadow, as the Cu-saeng glared at her from within Erik, but she also saw the man. Erik was still there, inside the shell of a body the evil had infested. She felt the corruption of the Cu-saeng thrumming in Legbiter, attacking the goodness in Defender. The hilt began to heat up and Melcorka withdrew suddenly, breaking contact.
Erik barked a laugh. “You're losing again, Swordswoman. I'm defeating you once more. Soon you will be lying on the ground, bleeding, broken, dying.”
Melcorka ducked, sliced at Erik's ankles, altered the angle of her attack and took another bite from his shield. The twin ravens seemed to glare their hate at her.
“Can you fight without a shield, Erik?”
From the corner of her eye, Melcorka saw the grey man dip a hand into his bag. Expecting Erik's attack, she parried desperately, feeling the renewed force behind him, knowing that the grey man was fuelling him, somehow. Erik was faster now, his attacks so rapid she could barely see them, let alone counter. Feinting left and right, Melcorka tried to push forward, only for Legbiter to be in her path, the blade dull black, meeting Defender with ease.
“Erik.” Melcorka said. “The evil is within you. You do not wish to be part of this thing.”
“I have Loki's sword,” Erik said, “and soon I shall have Defender as well.”
“That will not happen,” Melcorka gasped as the tip of Legbiter scraped down her arm, opening a small cut. The wound did not trouble her, but the knowledge of the evil now pumping through her veins did. She knew she would grow progressively weaker so she had to defeat Erik quickly.
“You will never get Defender.”
“Why do you think I brought you here?” Although the words came from Erik's mouth, Melcorka knew they were not his. She felt the evil surrounding her as the Cu-saeng spoke through Erik. “I need the power in your sword, Melcorka nic Bearnas. It is the only thing hindering me.”
“You shall not have it,” Melcorka said.
“You cannot stop me now.” The Cu-saeng was in complete control of Erik now, with the evil a black force behind his eyes. “I have taken away your man. I have drawn you to a place where I am nearest the surface of this world.” As the voice sounded, the sand slid over Melcorka's sandals, hindering her movement, slowing her down as Erik attacked.
The voice continued. “My woman has taken away your supporter. My forces are holding
yours at bay, and my power is neutralising the good in your sword. Soon I will overcome you, Swordswoman.”
“No!” So Astrid was Erik's tool to take Bradan away. Melcorka felt the darkness spreading from the cut in her arm and dragging at her feet. She knew she was weakening. Gathering her strength, she attacked again, hacking at Erik's shield until he only held fragments of wood around the spiked metal boss.
“I don't need a shield.” Erik dropped what remained and threw himself forward.
Melcorka saw the grey man dip inside his bag once more, and then Legbiter scored the outside of her left thigh, opening up her old wound and injecting fresh poison into her blood.
As she staggered, Melcorka heard the sound of a Norse horn, coming from the west. Holding Defender in front of her, she withdrew a pace to hold off Erik's next attack. The horn sounded again, joined by others, three, four, maybe five.
A glance behind her showed Melcorka that the Alban army was in difficulty. Erik's two Norse forces had closed in, with the Albans in between, while the Cu-saeng's army was now hammering at the Alban rear. Cat warriors slashed at the unprotected backs of the Alban warriors while the grey men were incapacitating any who faced them and the cannibals gnawed the wounded. The battle was going against Mael Coluim, Melcorka knew she was losing her fight with Erik, and now this new Norse force had arrived.
The horns blared again, backed by the barked shouts of the warriors. “Odin! Odin!” Above the men hung the raven banner of Orkney, the old enemy of Alba. As he had threatened, Jarl Thorfinn had come to attack Mael Coluim when he was most vulnerable.
The grey woman appeared beside the grey man, smiling, tossing back her blonde hair that was so like Astrid's that Melcorka knew they were the same person. Astrid had stolen Bradan away, and Melcorka's world was collapsing around her.
Erik was on the attack again, crouching low to swing Legbiter at Melcorka, meeting her increasingly weak attacks with the black blade of his sword, laughing as the Cu-saeng took complete control of his mind, body and soul. The sand gripped Melcorka”s ankles, slowing her down, making every movement more difficult.
The grey man was watching, dipping his hand inside the bag. He is the source; Melcorka thought. If I stop him, Legbiter will lose some of its power. Staggering now, Melcorka tried to block another thrust from Erik, gasped as Legbiter grazed her neck and fresh poison seeped into her.
“I am Melcorka Nic Bearnas!” Melcorka said and slashed at the grey man in a final desperate attempt to win. As if in slow motion, she saw her blade split the air, but the grey man slithered back, so Defender missed him. For the first time, the grey man smiled, showing an array of sharp teeth, and plunged his hand deep inside his bag.
“I was going to kill you slowly, Melcorka,” Erik said. “I was going to cut your legs and watch you bleed to death. Now I will finish you off.” He stepped forward. “Your king is losing his battle, Revna has taken away Bradan, and I have defeated you again in combat. You have nothing left. You can die in the knowledge that your world is gone and I will have the power of Defender to merge with my own.”
Melcorka stood straight, holding Defender with hands that were sticky with blood. “I am not dead yet, Erik.”
“Soon,” Erik said and stepped forward.
“Wait.” That single word stopped Erik as Astrid stepped forward. She smiled at Melcorka. “I want to see this.”
“Astrid?” Melcorka blinked sweat from her eyes. She felt herself swaying as she stood. “What have you done with Bradan?”
Still smiling, Astrid sat comfortably on a rounded boulder, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I've been easing Bradan away from you and trying to get my hands on Defender ever since I met you, Melcorka.”
“This is Revna,” Erik said. “You know her as Astrid, and she is my woman.” Stepping forward, Erik parried Melcorka's weak attempt at thrusting, twisted his wrist and forced Defender out of Melcorka's hand. The sword fell on the ground, with sand speckled on the glittering blade. Immediately Defender landed, the sand began to close around the blade, with the hilt still protruding above the ground.
Astrid laughed, and then the wind began. It came from the east, rising suddenly out of nowhere, lifting the surface of the sand. Within a few seconds, blowing sand had so reduced visibility so that Melcorka could see only a few feet. The image returned in all its horrifying reality. Melcorka was lying on sandy ground, with the tall figure of Erik standing over her while a woman walked away with Bradan.
Crawling forward painfully, Melcorka grabbed Defender, closing her hand on the hilt at the same time as Astrid swooped for it. The two women glared at each other as they fought for control, with the wind whipping Melcorka's dark hair around her face. Astrid pulled away, trying to wrest the sword from Melcorka's grip.
With her strength failing, Melcorka held Defender with both hands, blinking as the blown sand stung her eyes, struggling to drag the sword from the suction of the sands. She saw the grey man above her, saw him dip his hand into his bag and felt a wave of agony from her fresh wounds. She writhed, with her grasp on Defender weakening. She knew that if she released her hold, she had lost the fight, evil had triumphed and would rule this realm for an uncountable future.
Another figure appeared, half-seen in the sandy haze. Melcorka blinked as she saw a man in sober clothes, a long staff in his hand. Bradan had arrived at last. Bowing his head against the flying sand, he held a covered bundle under his left arm.
“Brad!” Melcorka croaked the word. She could taste the poison fouling her mouth.
Rather than facing Melcorka, Bradan transferred his staff to the same arm he carried his bundle and wrapped his right arm around Astrid's shoulder. It was then that Melcorka knew she had lost him. Turning away from Melcorka, Astrid placed an arm around Bradan's waist, with her laughter cruel in Melcorka's head.
“Bradan.” Melcorka whispered the word as she realised she was living her vision – Alba's army faced ruin, Erik had defeated her in battle, and Bradan was walking away with another woman.
At that second, Bradan tensed his arm and pushed Astrid violently away.
“No!” Astrid screamed.
“Mel!” Bradan half vanished in the increasing haze. “Melcorka!” He was peering around him, unable to see through the blasting sand.
“Here!” Melcorka forced out the word. “Down here!” She saw Bradan look around him. “Bradan!”
Astrid rolled back through the sand and grabbed hold of Defender's blade. “I nearly had your sword in Dun Dreggan,” she said. “Erik ordered that fool Chattan to hold it for me, but he locked it away with a spell.”
“You won't get it,” Melcorka gasped. “Bradan!”
“I see you!” Bradan roared. Without hesitation, Bradan cracked his staff down on Astrid's hands, weakening her grip on Defender. She flinched and rolled away. Bradan followed, thrusting the cross on his staff against Astrid, pushing her away.
“Bradan!” Melcorka yelled. “Be careful! Watch your back!”
Erik loomed through the boiling sand. He saw Bradan and Melcorka, poised Legbiter and swung, with the tip nicking Bradan's leg. Bradan fell, gripping his staff but dropping the bundle he carried. The cover flapped off the contents, a battered book that landed on the sand, with the leather cover scarred and torn.
“What's that?” Melcorka screamed above the howl of the wind.
“A Bible!” Bradan shouted. “The Norse looted it from a Pictish monastery. It might help fight the evil!”
Melcorka grabbed Defender and rolled to one side, tugging the blade from the ground. “The bag!” she yelled. “Bradan! The Book of Black Earth is in the bag!”
“I know! Where”s the grey man?” Bradan peered into the whirling sand, waving a hand in front of his eyes in a vain attempt to clear his vision. “I can't see him!”
Melcorka lifted Defender in front of her, blocking Erik's next thrust. The point of Legbiter scraped off Defender's blade and scored across Melcorka's ribs, drawing blood. For the next few
moments, Melcorka was too busy fending off Erik's attacks to pay any attention to anything else, and then she saw Bradan approaching the grey man, staff in one hand and Bible in the other.
“Bradan!” Astrid stepped in front of him, with her hands outstretched and her blonde hair blowing in the wind. “You know me! You know I am a woman of peace. We share so much, you and me.” Her eyes were soft, her voice liquid as she placed her hands on Bradan's shoulders. “We can do so much together, Bradan.”
“No.” Bradan shook his head. “No! You are an enchantress!”
“Bradan! It is me! I removed the evil eye from you, remember?”
“You are the grey woman! You were making us trust you!” Bradan could see it all now. Using the Celtic cross at the top of his staff, he thrust it at Astrid's hip, then her shoulder, pushing her back. You never touched my blessed staff, Bradan remembered, and you never handled the Bible. How could I have missed that? As Astrid reeled away, Bradan saw the grey man with his hand thrust deep inside his bag.
“You!” Bradan stepped forward, only for a gust of wind to blast sand in his face. He cursed, clawed blindly and fruitlessly. He could not see the grey man in the driving sand, reached with his staff and blundered onwards in fading hope.
As Bradan floundered in the sand, Erik laughed and slashed down with Legbiter, for Melcorka to parry and push back, feeling her strength waning.
“Bradan! I can't go on much longer.” Melcorka tasted blood in her mouth. “Bradan!”
Forcing his eyes open, Bradan saw a vague shape in front of him and lurched forward. The grey man drifted away from him, merging with the sand as if he were part of it. Astrid stood there, smiling, with her blonde hair blowing around her face. As Bradan watched, she altered into the grey woman, with the same blonde hair but with eyes that glowed with sudden intense light.
Bradan swore, unable to believe what he had just witnessed. He felt the strength drain from his limbs and was unsure where he was. The road stretched ahead, clear under his feet, with a building of domes and pointed windows standing in a sunlit city square. An aura of peace surrounded him as a group of serious-eyed men extended their hands in welcome. The doors of the building swung open, revealing a treasury of books and manuscripts, a whole world of knowledge.
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