“This is the House of Wisdom in Baghdad,” Bradan said. “How did I get here?” He shook his head. “I didn't get here. I am not where I appear to be.” Fighting to regain control, he pressed his thumb on the Celtic cross on top of his staff, and the image cleared away.
As the grey woman stared at him, Bradan shoved his staff forward like a lance, thrusting the cross at her. Although he made no contact, the woman backed off, showing her teeth.
Clutching the Bible in both hands, Bradan shouted: “In the name of God!” And jumped forward. At the words, the grey woman vanished and the grey man changed, becoming more solid, writhing under the touch of Bradan's staff.
“The bag, Bradan!” Melcorka's words carried a plea of desperation.
Hoping he was doing the right thing, Bradan snatched the bag from the grey man, ripped it open, and dropped the Bible inside.
The grey man gave a strangled scream and stood still, pointing at Bradan with a long finger. Without hesitation, Bradan lifted his staff and thrust it straight at the man's forehead. He fell at once.
“Melcorka!” Bradan looked around, as the wind began to die away.
Melcorka had risen, Defender in hand. She faced Erik, who was now on the defensive, backing away as Melcorka swung, slashed and thrust without breaking stride, forcing Erik backwards.
Once again their swords locked, and Melcorka felt the power in Legbiter, but this time Defender matched Loki's sword. She pushed Erik back, holding him blade to blade and hip to hip. With a final flourish, Melcorka slipped her right foot behind Erik's and forced him to the ground. He lay on his back with Legbiter in his hand and an expression of disbelief on his face.
“Loki,” Erik shouted. “Loki; help me!”
For one second, Melcorka thought she saw something towering over Erik, although in the still unsettled sand she could not be sure. The figure could be a figment of her imagination, something dragged from Erik's mind or even another Norseman. Melcorka did not know.
“I am Loki.” The voice had humour in it, as though the owner was laughing at Erik as he lay helpless on the ground. “This is none of my work.”
“Loki!” Erik said again.
“Loki was not your lord,” Melcorka said. “You fought for something much older and more evil than Loki could ever be, even if he exists.”
“What?” Erik twisted on the ground as the darkness entered his eyes again. He stared up at Melcorka, snatched Legbiter and slashed at her. Blocking the blow with ease, Melcorka turned Legbiter aside.
“Kill me,” Erik pleaded, “for the love of God. Please, Melcorka, for the friendship we once shared, kill me.”
“For the reason of mercy,” Melcorka said and thrust Defender into Erik's chest. The Norseman”s eyes opened wide, and then he smiled.
“Thank you, Melcorka,” he said.
Bradan nodded. “He looks peaceful.”
“Get his sword. Get Legbiter!” Melcorka grabbed at the sword as it began to sink into the ground. She lifted it with a grimace of distaste. “I feel dirty even touching this thing.”
“How do we destroy a sword?” Bradan asked.
“Like this,” Melcorka said, and placed Defender against it, blade to blade. The blades locked with a high-pitched whine, and slowly the black faded from Legbiter. Within a few moments, the blade was a dull silver, tarnished in places.
Stalking to the edge of the sea, Melcorka threw Legbiter as far as she could. “Rust,” she said. “Rust until nothing is left.” Giving an exclamation of disgust, she washed her hands in the surf.
“The sea is a great cleanser,” Bradan said, with his eyes narrowed against the blowing sand. “But the battle…”
“Oh, Lord, the battle.” Melcorka had forgotten that Mael Coluim's army was still engaged with the Norse and their allies. As she looked up, the wind dropped, and she heard Norse horns blowing. Jarl Thorfinn's army, some 500 strong, was surging towards the opposing forces.
“Look!” Bradan pointed. “The grey men!”
The Albans were destroying the attack of the cat-warriors and the grey men. Since Bradan's Bible had neutralised the Book of Black Earth, the forces of evil had lost much of their power. Cannibals, moss-men, grey men and cat-warriors were either dead or fleeing as caterans and border horsemen pursued them. However, on the other flank, the Norse had merged their armies and were hard-pressing Mael Coluim's army.
“Here comes the Jarl,” Bradan said. “Now everything depends on whose side he chooses.”
Jarl Thorfinn led his men forward at a smart run, formed a wedge and slammed into the nearest of the Norse formations.
“Oh, thank God. Thorfinn is allying himself with Mael Coluim,” Melcorka said.
“Aye,” Bradan nodded. “I warned him that Erik was going after his jarldom next.”
“Was he?”
“He may have been,” Bradan shrugged. “I don't know.”
“What happened to Astrid?” Melcorka lifted the bag that held both the Bible and the Book of Black Earth. It was much heavier than she imagined.
“Astrid, or Revna – call her what you wish,” Bradan said. “She merged with the grey woman. They were the same being. Astrid got her power from the Book of Black Earth. As long as it's quiet, she is powerless.”
“There was a time I thought she would take you from me,” Melcorka said.
“Aye, there was a time Astrid thought that as well.” Bradan leaned on his staff.
“Where did that Bible come from?” Melcorka asked.
“Dun Dreggan, originally. Astrid showed it to me in the Norse settlement,” Bradan said.
“Would you have left me for her?” Melcorka asked.
“No.” Bradan said.
Melcorka did not press the matter. “How did you know what to do?”
“True Thomas gave me a hint, before the battle at Carham. He said that evil's smiling arrogance would reveal the light, and that is what happened. I had guessed Astrid was not what she seemed, and she was so arrogant in her evilness when she showed me the very Bible that controlled the Book of Black Earth. Evil defeated itself.”
Side by side, with Bradan leaning on his staff and Melcorka cleaning Defender, they watched as the combined forces of Alba and the Jarldom defeated the leaderless invaders.
“What shall we do to the Book of Black Earth?” Bradan asked.
“We have a choice.” Melcorka casually flicked a stray arrow from the air with Defender. “We can find a secure place and lock it in again, with the Holy Bible to keep it secure, or we can try to destroy it.”
“You have no choice.” True Thomas was standing next to them, although Melcorka had not noticed him arrive. “If you lock up the Book of Black Earth, generations of evil people will seek it and eventually somebody will find it. That monstrosity will again become a focus for the wicked.”
“We must destroy it then,” Bradan accepted Thomas's word. “We can burn it.”
“It won't burn,” True Thomas said. “That book is the embodiment of evil. You cannot destroy evil, any more than you can destroy good. It will exist in some form until the day of final judgement.”
“If that's the case,” Bradan said. “What must we do?”
True Thomas smiled. “Tear it to little shreds and let the wind carry it where it will. The evil will still exist, but in smaller amounts, so that the good in the world can contain it.”
“Is there so much good in the world?” Melcorka asked.
“There is more good than evil,” True Thomas said. “But evil tends to congregate together.”
Opening the bag, Melcorka withdrew the Book of Black Earth. Even by touching it, she felt her spirits begin to droop.
“Tear it, Melcorka,” True Thomas said. “Use Defender.”
“This is not vellum or parchment,” Melcorka said.
“It is human skin,” Thomas said, “and the words are written with human blood.”
Recoiling in horror, Melcorka slashed the book with Defender, again and again, until the pages, cut an
d sliced to unrecognisable fragments, scattered across the sand.
“Good,” True Thomas said. “Now we shall have some wind.” Raising his hands, he began to blow gently, and the wind rose, scattering the fragments, some inland, some along with the sand and most on to the waves and out to sea.
“One day,” True Thomas said, “hundreds of years from now, a wicked man will reform the Book of Black Earth, but until that time, the world is free from this particular evil, thanks to you, Melcorka.”
“I believe that Bradan had something to do with it as well,” Melcorka said. “If it were not for him fetching the Holy Book, Erik would have been successful.”
“I needed a good man and a good woman,” Thomas said quietly. “You have altered history. You see, in my time, we lived under the shadow of great evil. Good failed and the Cu-saeng, under whatever name you wish to call it, controlled the destiny of everything. Now you have made progress possible, that will not happen. Oh, the world will not move easily or smoothly, but it will move forward.”
“What will happen?” Bradan asked.
“Progress beyond your ken, Bradan. Inventions you cannot imagine, ships that fly, medicines to defeat fever, people of all the world coming together.” True Thomas smiled. “Evil will continue, but always there will be good to fight it.”
Behind them, the armies of Thorfinn and Mael Coluim met in triumph, with the invaders either dead or fleeing back towards their ships.
King Mael Coluim embraced Jarl Thorfinn in a spirit of friendship, just as the last leaf of the Book of Black Earth slid into the sea.
Melcorka gasped as the vision came to her. She saw the black cloud dissipate from the Loch of the Monster, and the people of the Caledonian Forest discard their cannibalism. She saw the Moss-men drop their weapons and prepare to guide travellers across their watery domain. She saw the cat-people release their cats to the wild and throw their claws into the sea.
Peace had come to Alba and the Jarldom of Thorfinn.
“We did it, Bradan,” Melcorka said.
“We did,” Bradan said, “and the High King owes us a favour.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
They sat on sun-warmed boulders, with the clouds fragmenting along the green hill-ridge beside them and the burn laughing as it descended to the fertile land below.
“This is where we shall build our house,” Melcorka looked out to the foot of the glen, where the sea loch lapped at white sands, and Catriona bobbed in the lee of a natural breakwater. “Here, where the land meets the sea. Here we shall raise our family, and here we shall greet visitors as friends, whether we know them or not.”
“It is the Alban way,” Bradan agreed. “The grass is sweet for cattle, the soil is rich for crops, and we are on the highway for travellers by land or sea.”
“This will be our home,” Melcorka said, “and here you will create your library of books and discuss history and philosophy and the meaning of the stars with all the scholars of Alba and beyond.”
Standing, they began the easy descent to the green glen, with the gentle air of Alba cooling them and the cry of oystercatchers calling them home. A grove of rowan trees waved in welcome, the red berries a cheerful sight.
“I will place Defender above the fireplace,” Melcorka said, “and hope that she slowly rusts from disuse, for Alba has become a peaceful place.”
“That is a good thing to hope,” Bradan tapped his rowan-wood stick on the ground. “May God grant peace to Alba and every other nation under his sun.”
As Melcorka stepped on to a small knoll, the sun cast her shadow before her, with the hilt of Defender forming a long cross on the ground. “There,” she said, “on that patch of holy ground, there we will build our house.”
“And here, in this corner of Alba, all good people will be welcome, as long as they come in peace.”
“And if they do not,” Melcorka touched the hilt of Defender. “I shall have something to say about it.”
Historical Note
True Thomas, or Thomas the Rhymer, or Thomas of Ercildoun (c1220-c1298) was a mediaeval seer from the Scottish Borders. He is said to have foreseen the death of King Alexander III as well as many other events. However, there is no known record of his travelling backwards in time to the early 11th century, Melcorka's era.
King Malcolm II, Mael Coluim, sometimes known as Forranach, the Destroyer, did defeat the Northumbrians at the Battle of Carham in 1018 (some say 1016) after many people had observed a comet in the sky. By all accounts, Mael Coluim was a ruthless king, the High King of Scotland, while Owen the Bald of Strathclyde was a sub-king under his rule. Malcolm ruled Alba – Scotland – for an impressive 29 years, at a time that other nations exchanged rulers with the regularity of a revolving door.
The Royal Storm. At one time, many people believed that a mighty storm heralded the death of a king. When a member of the royalty was elderly, or gravely ill, people would look upwards during wild weather and wonder if the heavens were preparing to accept another entrant. Given the number of wild days in Scotland, there must be many Scottish royals up there.
The Bass Rock sits at the entrance to the Firth of Forth, the great bight of the North Sea that gives access to Edinburgh and the south coast of Fife. It is still the home of an enormous colony of gannets and has a fascinating history. Although there is no tunnel from the landing stage to the upper surface, there is a tunnel within the rock.
Thorfinn the Mighty, Jarl of Orkney, also existed. Orkney was the centre of a Norse jarldom or earldom, which was often at war with its Scottish neighbour and frequently sent expeditions to fight in Ireland or England. The frontier between Alba and the Norse Jarldom was fluid, depending on who was in the ascendancy at the time, but when Mael Coluim was High King, it was somewhere around the Moray Firth.
The story of the Loch Ness monster is too well known to relate here, but although many people think the legend was created to aid tourism, the loch had an evil reputation long before Scotland sought summer visitors. According to one (unsubstantiated) source, people once sacrificed animals and children to something in the loch, and sometimes saw a dark cloud drifting over the surface. Many Scottish lochs and rivers have legends of strange creatures, with a water horse being standard, and some rivers have a reputation for taking one person, a sacrifice, a year. The Spey is one such, and the Tweed another. Since the sacrifices ended, the salmon catch seems to have lessened. Strange, that…
The Cu Sith, the green fairy dog, was another mythological creature. It was a large dog that haunted the slopes of some Highland hills. If the traveller heard it bark three times, death was inevitable.
The evil eye was a much-feared thing in the Celtic world and probably beyond. I added to it with my grey men, but the fear was genuine enough.
The Cu-Saeng was a legendary monster that hunted and killed people across northwest Scotland. As nobody who saw it ever survived, nobody knew how it looked.
The Flanders Moss existed as a vast swathe of bogland across the waist of Scotland. Most was drained in the 18th century and is now fertile farmland, although a small segment remains and can be visited.
Caithness and Sutherland were once known as Cataobh, the province of Cat, with Caithness, the far northeast of the Scottish mainland, possibly meaning the Headland of the Cat People. The Duke of Sutherland is still known as Moruir Chat – the Great Man of the Cats.
Culbin Sands existed. It was a large area of sand on the Moray Coast in north east Scotland. Now densely planted with trees, it was noted for its sandstorms. One such at the end of the 17th century covered many acres of farmland and the laird's house. In that superstitious age, people believed the area was cursed by witches, who were known to have been active in the area.
There have been legends about the Book of Black Earth for some time. One version states that it was the accumulated wisdom, or evil, of all the witches in the Scottish Highlands. I put a twist on the ancient legend.
In the Dark Ages, swords were so expensive they were giv
en special status and were often named. The most famous is probably King Arthur's Excalibur, but there were many others. The Laxdaela Saga mentions Geirmund's sword Fotbitr – Legbiter – which was also the name of the sword owned by Magnus Barefoot, king of Norway, who made an extensive expedition to Scotland in 1098.
And, finally, Melcorka herself. Scotland has a long tradition of female warriors, from Scathach, the warrior woman from Skye who trained the great Irish hero Cuchulainn, to Black Agnes of Dunbar who held Dunbar Castle against an English army and inspired the words:
“Cam I early, cam I late
I found Agnes at the gate.”
Melcorka was merely following that tradition.
Malcolm Archibald
Angus, Scotland, 2020
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