Melcorka Of Alba

by Malcolm Archibald

  Kosala looked down, nodded and sliced off one of the tentacles of a rakshasa. The creature wrapped another around his leg. Kosala did not even flinch. 'I see it!'

  'Can you throw it this way?'

  The rakshasas made another attack, forcing Melcorka further back as tentacles coiled around her arms. That voice was back inside her head, probing. 'Do you remember meeting me before, Melcorka?'

  Melcorka hacked at another tentacle, only to miss as the rakshasa recoiled. 'I have fought you three times.'

  'You have fought me more than that,' the voice said. 'Look, Melcorka.'

  With her eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun, Melcorka was standing on the golden sands of a beach with the Kalingo warriors before her and the peaceful Taino at her back.

  Only a single Kalingo stood. A lone female faced the attackers, pointing two fingers at Melcorka.

  'Run, you fool!' Melcorka yelled. 'All your friends have gone.'

  Kanaima remained standing, pointing, so that Melcorka slowed down, curious to see why her adversary did not run.

  Kanaima took a single step forward. 'I curse you. I curse you in your body and in your mind. I curse you in your possessions and your strength. I curse you in your travels and your weather. I curse you until the balance of the world is restored…' She got no further as Melcorka swung Defender and neatly cut off her head.

  'You!' Melcorka said.

  'Me,' the Mysterious One said. 'I am the kanaima you fought.'

  'I killed you thousands of miles away.' Melcorka hefted Defender again.

  The vision faded until once again Melcorka was in that glare-lit square, with the rakshasas ready to pounce.

  'You think of distance and time as though it was fixed,' the voice said. 'Look beyond that, Melcorka. Look beyond time and space. We are everywhere, and we are always. A life, any life, is part of a whole and a speck of goodness or a speck of evil is only a fragment of the spiritual body.'

  Melcorka saw Kosala slide under the terrible swing of a tentacle to scoop up Kulothunga's bottle. He lifted it and threw, just as another tentacle grabbed at his arm, knocking the flask upwards, rather than toward Melcorka.

  'Bradan! The flask!' Melcorka yelled.

  The bottle rose high, spiralling in the air. The rakshasa reached for it with half a dozen tentacles.

  'You cannot win, Melcorka. We will fight until I have removed every trace of you from the land. I am of the spirit, but you are corporeal. You cannot kill me.'

  Bradan lifted his staff and batted the flask toward Melcorka, who leapt up and grabbed it.

  'Do you know what this is?' Melcorka opened the flask and poured the contents onto the blade of Defender. 'It is Holy water from the Ganges. Kulothunga always carries it with him when he goes on campaign.' Melcorka rubbed the water along the full length of Defender's blade. 'It is now on my sword, which is already blessed by the goodness of my own people. You may be of the spirit, but now you face the spiritual good of two ancient cultures, one from the East and one from the West.'

  The roar of the fighting intensified. An arrow flew over the most eastward of the mirrors, to skiff along the ground without doing any harm. Another followed and then came a crash as a tall man shoved over the mirrors on the westernmost side of the square. The genuine Kulothunga strode in, with a far-too-tight chain mail coat over his chest and a borrowed sword in his hand. He glanced at the body that looked like him, shrugged and strode on.

  Behind Kulothunga, the final rays of the sun streaked along the narrow corridor of buildings, over the mirror he had dislodged, to reflect in the mirrors on the opposite side of the square. Melcorka smiled as the final piece of her mother's jigsaw clicked into place.

  'I have steel from the west bathed in water from the Ganges in the north,' she said, 'to fight the evil from the south while the sun is setting in the east.' Melcorka pointed to the mirror that reflected the golden-red sun. 'There is my eastern sunset!'

  That's my girl! Bearnas voice was proud in Melcorka's head. Now, fight and win!

  You can't kill us, the other voice said.

  Melcorka's first swing sliced off two of the rakshasa's tentacles. She laughed, dodged the vicious beak and thrust the point of Defender into the creature's eye. This time, the sword penetrated with ease, as far as the angled quillons of the guard. The voice intruding inside Melcorka's head screamed, as much in disbelief as in pain, until Melcorka twisted Defender left and right, ripped her sideways and dragged it free. She spared a moment to watch the rakshasa crumple to the ground.

  The other three rakshasas leapt on her, flailing with their tentacles and thrusting with their beaks. Melcorka had expected nothing else and used Defender with her favourite figure-of-eight movement that was nearly impossible to penetrate. Slices of rakshasa body and legs flew through the air.

  'Kosala and Kulothunga,' Melcorka yelled. 'Chop off the tentacles! I will take the eyes!'

  One thrust, two thrusts and the nearest rakshasa recoiled. Melcorka finished it off as it writhed on the ground and killed the next with a single swing that sliced through its head. The remaining rakshasa charged at her, squealing inside her head.

  'I am Melcorka of Alba,' Melcorka said, thrusting Defender into its eyes. She stood back, panting, as it collapsed.

  It's finished. Oh, dear God, it's finished.

  Kulothunga grinned at her over the hilt of his sword. 'Melcorka!' He was still unshaven and dirty but carried his borrowed sword as adroitly as ever. 'You've killed all of them. I wanted one for myself.'

  'You helped.' Melcorka indicated the flask of Ganges water. 'Without your knowledge, without your foresight, the rakshasas would have won, and if you had not kicked over that mirror, the sun would never have set in the east.'

  Rajaraja joined them, sheathing his sword. He looked at the dead creatures on the ground. 'Is that them all?'

  'I believe so.' Melcorka began to clean Defender. 'Kulothunga's sacred water and my blessed sword have killed them all.'

  'The remainder of the conquest should be easy then,' Rajaraja said. 'My son Rajendra has sent a messenger to tell me he has already captured Rajgana.'

  'There will be no need for any conquest.' Melcorka inspected the blade of Defender. 'It was a false Bhim and Dhraji that led the Thiruzhas astray. The genuine Rani and Raja are in the dungeons. When you free them, there will be no cause for war.'

  Rajaraja looked around the wreckage of Kollchi. 'That is good news.'

  Melcorka slid Defender into her scabbard. 'It is finished,' she said. 'Peace may now come to this land.'

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They stood on the deck of Catriona with the tide about to turn and all the colour and noise of the sub-continent behind them.

  'You don't have to leave,' Jasweer said. 'We always have room for a skilled mariner in the fleet, while Kulothunga needs a rival to keep his ego in check.'

  'Melcorka shook her head. 'Thank you for the offer, Jasweer. It is most kind of you, but the world is calling.'

  'Where are you headed?'

  'Wherever the sea takes us, or to whichever land that calls.' Bradan gave a final check to the stays that held the mast secure. 'I am a wanderer. It seems that I cannot stay long in one place.'

  Jasweer nodded. 'You have restless blood in you both. One day, you will find your place.'

  'Maybe…' Melcorka looked to the far horizon. 'Wherever we go, we will always carry a little piece of this land with us.'

  'Chola is like that,' Jasweer agreed. 'You may be back.'

  'We may well be back.' Bradan sniffed at the wind.

  Kulothunga waded into the water, preened his moustache and held out a hand. 'You are a fine warrior, Melcorka. You are nearly as good as I am and I am the best there has ever been.'

  'I'd be careful of that title,' Melcorka said. 'Kosala saved us all when he held back the rakshasas and threw across the flask of sacred water.'

  'Everybody helped,' Bradan said. 'When we face evil, everybody is needed.'

  The wind inc
reased slightly, rustling Catriona's sail and skiffing spindrift from the surface of the waves.

  Melcorka lifted a hand in farewell as Bradan adjusted the sail.

  'To adventures new,' Bradan said.

  Tossing back her hair, Melcorka placed Defender in the small cabin. 'To a calm sea and a smooth passage.'

  'Melcorka,' Bradan said, 'do you realise that Dhraji was only scared of one warrior, the best there has ever been?'

  'I do,' Melcorka said. 'That would be Kulothunga.'

  'No,' Bradan shook his head. 'It was not Kulothunga. You defeated his rakshasa. You are that warrior, Melcorka. You are the best there has ever been.'

  'Nonsense,' Melcorka said. 'Take us onward, Bradan.'

  'Which way?'

  'Whichever way the wind takes us,' Melcorka said.

  'That suits me.'

  They smiled at each other as the wind bellied the sail.

  Dear reader,

  We hope you enjoyed reading Melcorka of Alba. If you have a moment, please leave us a review - even if it's a short one. We want to hear from you.

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  Best regards,

  Malcolm Archibald and the Creativia Team

  Historical Note

  Although this story is entirely fiction, the Taino and Kalingo people of the Caribbean were contemporary with Melcorka and Bradan. The Kalingo were fierce warriors and the Taino were a peaceful people, as Columbus discovered when he came across them, four centuries later.

  The Chola Empire also existed. It was one of the more successful empires of the Middle Ages and at its peak, extended from the southern tip of India to the Ganges and included Sri Lanka, the Andaman Islands and parts of what is now Malaysia and beyond. Rajaraja was a real Emperor, but he did not have to contend with Melcorka or rakshasas. He did have a fleet and a powerful army to help spread his power, while his son and heir, Rajendra, led a Chola army to water its elephants in the Ganges.

  Malcolm Archibald

  Moray, Scotland, October 2018

  About the Author

  Born and raised in Edinburgh, the sternly-romantic capital of Scotland, I grew up with a father and other male relatives imbued with the military, a Jacobite grandmother who collected books and ran her own business and a grandfather from the legend-crammed island of Arran. With such varied geographical and emotional influences, it was natural that I should write.

  Malcolm Archibald

  Also by Malcolm Archibald

  The Swordswoman

  The Shining One (The Swordswoman Book 2)

  Falcon Warrior (The Swordswoman Book 3)

  Melcorka of Alba (The Swordswoman Book 4)

  Jack Windrush -Series Windrush

  Windrush: Crimea

  Windrush: Blood Price

  Windrush: Cry Havelock

  Windrush: Jayanti's Pawns

  A Wild Rough Lot

  Dance If Ye Can: A Dictionary of Scottish Battles

  Like The Thistle Seed: The Scots Abroad

  Our Land of Palestine

  Shadow of the Wolf