Falcon Warrior (The Swordswoman Book 3)

by Malcolm Archibald

  The next body was a few steps further on, equally furred with flies. 'He has been killed the same way,' Arne said.

  After the first two, there was a steady stream of dead bodies, men, women, and children, all with the same fatal injury.

  'They have all been clubbed to death.' Melcorka said. 'There are no puncture wounds from a spear or sword.'

  'And they are all facing the same direction,' Bradan added. 'They were all running away. Nobody even tried to fight back.'

  'What could scare an entire village to run?' Erik wondered.

  'We do!' Arne said. 'When we raided Alba three summers ago they ran like sheep before a wolf.' He stared at Melcorka, hoping for a reaction.

  'Were you there?' Bradan asked quietly.

  'I was in the first boat!' Arne boasted.

  'You must have been all of fifteen years old,' Bradan tapped his staff on the ground. 'I cannot recall you at the battle by the Tummel.' He held Arne's gaze. 'Perhaps I only saw the back of your head as you turned to run.'

  'You…' Arne stepped forward, his face twisted in rage.

  'Enough,' Erik said. 'He is tormenting you, Arne. He means nothing by it.'

  Arne's expression could have shaken a lesser man than Bradan as he turned away. 'You'll feel the edge of my blade later, Alban.'

  'Only if I am asleep, or my back is turned,' Bradan said.

  The village lay ahead of them. The slender palisade that was all its defences had been flattened in two places and all the lodges within were black, burned and smouldering. Melcorka stood outside, remembering the carnage caused by the Norse at Dunedin. She said nothing as Erik led his men forward.

  'They came from the south and the west,' Bradan said, 'and pushed the palisade flat.'

  'The palisade was not meant to defend the village against men,' Melcorka added. 'It was only to keep the wild animals out and the domestic animals in.'

  'There is where the fugitives fled,' Bradan showed where some of the stakes of the palisade had been pushed over from the inside, and where the trail of bodies began. 'And there,' he pointed to passage of flattened grass, 'is where the prisoners were dragged away.'

  'Prisoners?' Erik asked. 'Why take prisoners?'

  'Why do the Norse take prisoners?' Melcorka asked flatly.

  'For slaves,' Erik answered.

  'There is your answer then.' Bradan said. 'This was a slave raid.'

  'The people in the village panicked; they were not expecting to be raided and they were not used to that sort of warfare.' Melcorka lifted one of the palings. 'They had flimsy defences and I cannot see any casualties among the raiders; there are no warriors among the dead and no fresh graves dug.'

  'Unless the attackers took the dead with them.' Erik said.

  'That is possible,' Melcorka said. 'We had better be prepared in case the raiders are still in the area.'

  'This attack was three days back,' Bradan said. 'And when they left they headed south.'

  'Which is where we are heading,' Erik sheathed his sword. 'Do you think these slavers may be the very people we are seeking?'

  'I do not know,' Bradan said. 'I only know that they are out there,' he nodded south, 'somewhere.'

  Melcorka looked to the south. She stood in the trail of flattened grass where the slave raiding column had passed and imagined the fear and the horror, the cruelty and the worry, the heartache and the tears. Putting a hand within her cloak she touched the head-band she had taken from the woman in the iceberg.

  There were sturdy warriors with painted faces and head-dresses of falcon feathers. They carried long-handled maces with stone heads, each one carved with slightly different patterns but each with a falcon carved onto the back. The warriors moved with grace, gliding between the trees with their maces balanced over their right shoulder; some had a small circular hide shield on their left arm, decorated with the image of a flying falcon, its beak poised to strike.

  Shuffling between the ranks of warriors were the slaves. They moved slowly with bowed shoulders and down-facing faces. None were over thirty and none under fifteen years of age, male or female.

  She looked down on them, unsure whether to be sad or happy. The man at her shoulder said something in his deep voice and she laughed. He said something else and she turned toward him and pressed closer.

  These slaves would be useful in the days to come.

  'Melcorka?' Bradan's voice penetrated the vision. 'Are you all right?'

  'Of course, I am,' Melcorka killed her irritation at Bradan's interruption. 'The Empire of Dhegia is in the south on the banks of a great river. These slavers are of the empire.'

  'How do you know that?' Arne prepared to jeer until Melcorka fastened her gaze on him.

  'I know,' she turned away and walked back to Catriona with her mind in turmoil.

  'Melcorka?' Bradan followed.

  'Not just now, Bradan.'

  'What's bothering you?'

  'Nothing,' she snapped. 'Just leave me alone!'

  What was bothering her? She did not know. She only knew that something had changed and was still changing. The man in her vision had meant a lot to her, and that man had not been Bradan. Who was he? And more importantly: who was she?

  There were other broken villages as they moved south, other places with smoke pressing on destroyed lodges and dead bodies lying under their covering of feasting flies. In every case the dead had their heads smashed and only once did they find the corpse of a warrior.

  The Norse surrounded him, discussing the body with professional interest. Frakkok looked down on him. 'He has the body of a warrior,' she said, 'and the scars of battle.' She crouched at the man's side, running her hand down the painted face. 'A young man, still, yet see this?' she pointed to the healed cut across his ribs and the deep gash in his hip. 'He has seen battle more than once.' She stood up. 'He was a man to be proud of; a true warrior who will now be in Valhalla or wherever his people go.' Frakkok walked away without another word.

  Bradan waited until she had gone before turning over a tuft of grass. 'Did you see this?'

  The fabric had been trampled by careless feet and torn by some sharp object, yet the design was still recognisable. Melcorka lifted it carefully. The pouncing falcon sat on its bed of tiny white sea-shells, its claws outstretched and jaws ready to strike.

  'That falcon seems to fly everywhere,' she said.

  'It must be the symbol of this empire,' Bradan agreed.

  Melcorka ran her thumb over the shells, feeling the care and devotion that had gone into creating such a vibrant image. 'Somebody spent a lot of time over this,' she looked southward as she felt the touch of a hand on her shoulder. 'Bradan…'

  Bradan was two long steps away, out of reach. 'Yes?'

  'Nothing,' she said. 'Nothing that matters. It is all right.' Dropping the cloth, she pushed it under the grass with her foot and skiffed dirt over the top. She did not wish Frakkok to see this sort of thing yet. That touch on her shoulder had been disturbing yet very welcome. It had not been Bradan.

  'Let's continue,' she touched the hilt of Defender. As long as she had her sword, the world could throw anything it liked at her and she would be safe. She was Melcorka the Swordswoman; she must remember that. She was nobody else.

  Then who was that other woman who shared her body and whose thoughts coursed through her mind and whose emotions and ideas clashed with her own?

  Eyota.

  Chapter Thirteen

  'Here we are.' Melcorka wiped the sweat from her forehead as she eased Catriona onto the large river. It flowed southward through a land so endless it seemed infinite. The banks were sometimes wooded and sometimes empty but always dotted with villages that had once held a thriving population and were now smoking ruins.

  'Look,' Bradan pointed to the bank of the river where scuff marks, footprints and a single corpse marred the beauty. 'This is where the slavers moored their boats. You can see the posts where the mooring ropes were tied and the marks where the people boarded them.'

>   'We are following their trail,' Melcorka said. She could nearly feel their presence, smell their sweat, hear their deep, sombre voices, taste the sweetness of their food and see the dark glint of their eyes.

  Suddenly she had a hankering to be home, where the pyramids rose against the clear skies and the tree-dotted plains and cool forests extended forever, where the great river shushed musically beside the city and the falcons presided over all.

  But that was not home.

  She was an Alban, a woman from the Scottish isles. Where was this place that intruded on her thoughts? She knew; of course, she knew. Yet she pushed the knowledge away with all its memories and delights for the future.

  Why?

  Who am I?

  'How long have we travelled for?' Erik asked.

  'Months,' Melcorka said. 'I don't know. It feels as if we have been sailing and rowing and portaging forever.'

  'By the look of this river, we have not finished yet,' Bradan said. 'I don't know where this empire of Dhegia is, but we are travelling a long way to get to it. The possibility of it attacking Alba, or even the Norse in Greenland, seems remote.'

  'The slaves, who once lived in the burned villages may have thought the same,' Erik said.

  'Come on! Stop wasting time!' Frakkok urged them on. 'Get Sea Serpent back on the water.'

  With the current of the great river helping them, sailing at least was easy. Melcorka followed the wake of Sea Serpent, allowing the Norse ship, with her greater draught and larger crew, to find the best passage through the shoals and shallows. At night they camped on whichever bank was most suitable or on the occasional wooded island, with both vessels beached and sentries posted in case of attack.

  It was four more days before they found built evidence of the empire. Bradan saw it first and they steered Catriona across the width of the river to the small building on the bank. It was conical, with a flat roof, and built of earth rather than stone. A pole thrust from the roof and held a small square of embroidered cloth. The symbol was of a pouncing falcon.

  'I think we are now in the territory of Dhegia,' Bradan said.

  'That may even mark the border,' Melcorka said.

  Sea Serpent had followed them and the Norse splashed into the water to examine the flag.

  'It's the same design as we saw earlier,' a slender man named Leif said.

  Melcorka looked to the south and west where tall grass whispered forever on a vast plain. 'So we've reached the Empire of Dhegia at last.'

  She had never been here before yet she did not feel like a stranger yet alone an intruder. Crouching down, she knifed her fingers into the ground and lifted a handful of soil. It felt rich and moist and fertile.

  'This will be good land to farm,' she said. 'It will raise a good crop of maize.'

  'A good crop of what?' Bradan asked. 'Maize? I have never heard the term before.'

  Melcorka frowned. 'Did I say that? I have no idea what it is. I must have heard the word from the Skraelings.'

  'That must be it,' Bradan sounded sceptical. 'Now that we are inside Dhegia we'd best be ready. If they are hostile…'

  Melcorka stared southward into the distance. Somewhere down there, she knew, was the city she had seen in her visions. Somewhere down there was a familiar lifestyle she had never experienced before. 'Some may be hostile.' She said, 'and some will be very welcoming.'

  'You could be right, Melcorka,' Bradan said.

  'I am right,' Melcorka said. 'You'll see that I am right.'

  They sailed on, cautiously now, keeping to mid channel whenever they could and watching for movement on the shores. There was the occasional wisp of smoke smudging the air, but too far from the river for them to leave the ships. Once, after a heavy shower of rain, a dead animal swept past.

  'It's like a bull,' Bradan said, 'but far larger than any bull I have ever seen.'

  Melcorka watched as the massive creature was carried past them to the south. 'I wonder what that thing was, and if there are more like it.' She knew there were. Somehow, she knew that there were tens of thousands more out there on the great prairies that stretched to infinity.

  'We'll see the Dhegians soon,' she said. Although she was thousands of miles and months of journeying away from Alba, she felt as if she was coming home. This great land with the mighty abyss of the sky above, resplendent with a million stars, was as familiar to her as the winds and mists of Alba. It was a place like no other and she was quite content here; whatever the future held, she knew she could cope with it.

  'Melcorka?' Bradan's voice penetrated her mind. 'Are you all right?'

  'Of course.'

  'Then could you steer the boat clear of that sandbank, before we end our voyage right now.'

  Melcorka started as she saw the water surging around a shingle bank ahead. She swung the tiller and Catriona edged clear. Melcorka watched their wake wash over the long grass of the islet, thinking how familiar this all was. But how could it be, when she had never been within three thousand miles of this place before?

  The band of warriors could have been anybody as they trotted through the open woodland. Melcorka saw them from a distance and, handing the helm to Bradan, she ascended the mast for a better look.

  'We have company,' she said to Bradan. 'From the Empire.'

  'Are you sure?'

  There was no doubt in Melcorka's mind. She had seen such men before, in her mind. 'Quite sure, Bradan.'

  Bradan did not question her a second time. 'Best tell the Norse,' he said.

  'There is quite a large party of men approaching,' she reported. 'They are in a column, four deep and about twenty strong.'

  'That sounds like warriors,' Eric shouted back.

  'That's what they are,' Melcorka remained at the crosstrees of the mast with the sail barely rippling in a following breeze and only the current gliding them slowly downstream.

  The warriors soon came up to them and trotted tirelessly along the bank of the river at their side, with only the leader turning his head to watch them. The rest, copper-coloured men with bare chests, small kilts and great stone-headed clubs or spears, looked ahead in rigid self-discipline. After a few moments, the leader barked an order and the first four men increased their pace and sped ahead, keeping side by side. Within ten minutes they were out of sight.

  'They've gone to warn somebody that we are here,' Melcorka remained at the cross-trees. 'Yet there is some sort of fortification up ahead.' She pointed to a small, slope-walled mound with a wooden stockade on top. As they watched, a flag was raised bearing the now familiar falcon symbol.

  'It may be a border post or something similar,' Bradan said. 'It would be polite to stop there and announce ourselves.'

  'The Norse are not here to be polite; they are more likely to land and wipe the garrison out.' Melcorka touched the hilt of Defender. 'I think the war is about to start.'

  'The rest of the Dhegian warriors are waiting for us to land,' Bradan said quietly, 'and then they will either attack, or ask us who we are.'

  Melcorka nodded. 'They will not attack' she said. 'They know something we don't know.' She watched the warriors closely; they were so familiar, yet something was very wrong.

  Erik gave a sudden order and the Norsemen scurried to their rowing benches. Sea Serpent surged ahead of Catriona.

  'They want to be first into Dhegia,' Bradan said. 'Let them; it matters not.'

  Already four ship-lengths ahead, Sea Serpent came to a sudden, sickening halt. Her mast shuddered and most of her crew fell forward, with Erik sprawling face down and even Frakkok staggering and clutching hold of the steering oar to maintain her balance.

  'They've hit something,' Melcorka shouted. 'Take the sail in; get on the oars!' She was on a rowing bench as she spoke, grabbing a set of oars and rowing astern as fast as she could. Bradan had the sail furled within a few seconds and thumped down at the oars.

  'There's something in the water. Sea Serpent has run aground!'

  'It's a boom,' Melcorka knew what had happen
ed without looking. 'The Dhegians have put a barricade across the river to control traffic.'

  Forewarned, lighter in the water and easier to handle than Sea Serpent, Catriona swung around before reaching the boom.

  The Norse struggled to recover as Catriona surged the length of the boom, a simple affair of huge tree-trunks linked together to form a barrier across the width of the river and just under the surface so it was nearly impossible to see until they were right on top of it.

  The shouts of the Norse were plain above the surge of the river.

  'Get the oars out!'

  'Back water! Get out of this!'

  'By Odin, they've got us!'

  'Here they come! Here come the Dhegians!'

  The instant that Sea Serpent struck the boom, a score of Dhegian warriors emerged from the stockade on the mound and swarmed across the top of the boom toward the Norse vessel, wielding spears and stone-headed clubs.

  'Do we fight them?' Bradan asked. 'Or are they peaceful?'

  The Dhegians answered that question in seconds. The leading man leaped on board Sea Serpent, swung his axe and smashed the skull of a gaping young Norseman.

  'They are not peaceful,' Bradan said.

  'We fight! Melcorka steered Catriona so her bow faced downstream. She drew Defender, savouring the immediate surge of power that swept through her body. 'You stay here, Bradan; this is not a place for you!'

  Initially taken by surprise, the Norse recoiled before the force of the Dhegian attack and another man fell. Half a dozen Dhegian spears thrust down into him.

  'Alba!' Melcorka yelled as she leaped from the deck of Catriona onto Sea Serpent. Two Dhegians turned toward her, clubs lifted. She swept Defender in a sideways swipe that removed the head from one and sliced into the upper left arm of the second. He screamed, spouting blood, and she thrust Defender through his throat, stepped over his writhing body and moved on.

  'Odin owns you all!' Erik led the Norse counter-attack. The other Norsemen followed in a frantic rush that saw them crash into the still advancing mass of Dhegians. For a moment the deck of Sea Serpent was a turmoil of blades and clubs, thrusting spears and gasping, roaring men, and then the sheer aggression of the Norse began to tell against the discipline of the Dhegians.