The Shining One (The Swordswoman Book 2)

by Malcolm Archibald

  'You are very cheeky,' Melcorka told her.

  'I know,' Eileen said with a smile.

  'We eat first, then sleep and decide how to take that place,' Bradan said.

  'We have no food,' Tuath said, and smiled when Bradan plunged into his bag and handed out dried herring and oatcakes.

  'Not great but better than nothing,' he said, 'and before you ask, Eileen, I am no magician. I took them from one of the ships in harbour before I burned her.'

  'I did not think you were a magician,' Eileen still kept away from his staff. She looked at him with some suspicion.

  'Eat, little one,' Tuath said, 'you have had a busy day, trying to kill me.'

  Eileen poked out her tongue again as she chewed on an oatcake, ensuring she was as far away from Bradan as possible.

  The pre-dawn wind dragged rain-clouds with it, easing down the most westerly of the hills and with rain pock-marking the dark water of the loch with tiny droplets. Sitting between two rocks, Melcorka studied the broch as it emerged from the dim of the night.

  Perhaps ninety feet high, it had the same concave wall as Hector's, with the parapet overlooking the loch, and a single narrow, tall entrance. She had heard the guards patrol all night; their muttered conversations, together with the screaming of the eagles, had broken the silence. Now a single black crow hopped along the shore of the loch, bedraggled under the drizzling rain.

  'How does it look?' Bradan asked.

  'Strong,' Melcorka said. 'We can't scale these walls by day without being seen by the watchmen and there is only one gateway in and that will have a guard, the same as Hector's broch. The guards are always on the parapet, and seem to be watchful. Added to that are the two boats on patrol in the loch; the Osprey is secure within his nest.'

  'There will be a causeway,' Tuath joined them, holding Eileen by the hand as if she had not attempted to perforate him with arrows and he had never threatened violence on her diminutive person.

  'There is,' Melcorka said. 'The boats never go all the way round the loch.' She pointed to a wind-twisted tree that stood a few yards from the bank. 'You see that rowan there?'

  'Of course,' Tuath sounded annoyed by the question.

  'The boats stop opposite that tree and turn back, and when they reach that prominent rock there, the one with the green lichen on the east side, they stop again.'

  'So the causeway is somewhere between these two points,' Bradan said. 'It will be crooked, like Hector's, and may have a gap in the middle as well.'

  'With a crooked causeway and a guard, the gate will be one of the hardest places to enter,' Melcorka said. 'That only leaves the wall. How are your climbing skills, Tuath?'

  Tuath craned his neck backward to look at the height of the broch. 'I am not built for climbing. I will go in the front door.'

  'That is the path of most danger,' Melcorka said.

  'It is the warrior's path, the path of most honour,' Tuath caressed his axe.

  Bradan looked at him through narrow eyes. 'Your wife may not wish you to take the path of most honour if it leaves her as a widow.'

  Tuath looked away. 'Igraine will find another man,' he said.

  'Maybe she does not want to find another man,' Melcorka told him. 'Maybe she wants you.'

  'This is not the talk of a warrior.' Tuath said. 'It will weaken our resolve. I'll go in through the gate whatever you decide to do.' His chin thrust out, signalling the end of the conversation.

  'They will kill you, Tuath,' Eileen said. 'There are two warriors in the guard room beside the door.'

  'How do you know that?' Bradan asked.

  'I have been watching,' Eileen said simply. Scowling at Bradan, she kept close to Tuath.

  'What else do you know that may help?' Melcorka asked.

  'I know how many men are inside and I know how many are on the boats,' Eileen said.

  'How many are there?'

  'There are always twenty men inside the broch and ten on each boat,' Eileen said. 'And there is the chief man, the one that murdered my father.'

  'The Osprey?'

  'He lives here all the time with two bodyguards and his women. He only leaves to go on raids with his ships.'

  'We have burned his ships,' Tuath said. 'He cannot go raiding now.'

  'Forty three men then, and some women,' Bradan said. 'That is big odds against two warriors, a man with a staff, a child and a group of dejected mariners.'

  'It is what it is,' Melcorka shrugged, 'so here is what I think we should do. I am the best climber here so I shall swim the loch and scale the wall at the back of the broch. Bradan will be on the shore where he can simultaneously watch both the back of the loch and the gate. As soon as I am half way up the wall, Bradan will inform Tuath, who will walk over the causeway. It will be crooked so he will have to feel his way. He will reach the gate about the same time as I get to the top of the wall.'

  Tuath nodded, 'I will have the position of honour.'

  'Which is what you want,' Melcorka agreed. 'I will fight my way down from the top and you will fight your way up from the bottom.'

  'What can I do to help?' Eileen asked.

  'Nothing!' Tuath said, 'you can stay out of the way and keep safe. We have enough to worry about without children getting under our feet!'

  Eileen's face fell. 'But I want to help.'

  'Perhaps you can help,' Melcorka said. 'Once I have begun the second half of the climb, you can fire your arrows at the men on top to distract them. If they are looking for you they will not be looking for me or Tuath.'

  'She is only a child,' Tuath said. 'She should be kept out of danger's way.'

  'Eileen,' Melcorka said solemnly. 'Once you start, keep out of danger's way. The very second that the Caterans fire back or any of them come looking for you, run away and hide in the hills.'

  'Yes, Melcorka,' Eileen said quietly.

  'Now you remember that. If you get yourself killed I will be very angry with you.'

  Eileen looked crestfallen. 'Yes, Melcorka,' she said.

  'Right,' Melcorka said. 'That's that settled then.' She knew that Eileen's bow lacked the power to fire arrows anywhere near the top of the broch. On the other hand, if she thought she was helping she would be less likely to do anything to jeopardise the attack and the watchmen would not notice her in the dark so she would be safe.

  'There is one thing we have not thought of,' Bradan said quietly. 'The Caterans who escaped from the harbour will either have run to the broch or be loose in the hills. We have to be careful for them.'

  Melcorka nodded. 'We will all be very careful,' she said, and reinforced her words with a nod to Eileen.

  They spent the rest of the day watching the broch, finding food for the survivors who had followed them and catching whatever sleep they could, trying to ignore the harsh calling of the constantly circling eagles. Bradan's warning about the Caterans at the harbour proved ominously correct as there was a trickle of ragged men returning from the harbour, some wounded, some angry and all looking for vengeance.

  'We could kill them in the hill pass and reduce their numbers,' Tuath said.

  'Better to let them enter the broch and spread lies about how powerful we are. They won't say that they were defeated by two warriors; they will say the whole power of the Lordship of the Isles descended upon them. By the time they finish, the Osprey will be jumping at his own shadow and thinking the island is ringed by a hundred war ships.'

  'How about them?' Tuath jerked a contemptuous thumb at the group of survivors who watched them through eyes dulled by hardship and fear.

  'They need time to recover,' Bradan said. 'When they are better they will be men again. Some of the survivors did well in the attack on the harbour, remember.'

  Tuath grunted. 'I suppose they did,' he said.

  'I don't like them,' Eileen said. 'They will get in the way.'

  'So might you,' Tuath said, and pushed her arm. Eileen pushed back, laughing until Bradan came close, whereupon she shrank away once more.

&nb
sp; 'I don't like you,' she said to Bradan and turned her head away.

  'Eileen,' Melcorka said, 'Bradan won't hurt you.'

  'Yes he will,' Eileen said. She snuggled closer to Tuath. 'He wants to kill me.'

  Melcorka stared at Bradan, who shook his head. 'I have no idea what has upset her,' he said, as Eileen whimpered.

  'Make him go away,' Eileen said, 'please send him away.'

  'That will not happen,' Melcorka saw Tuath grip his axe and glare at Bradan. 'Nobody will hurt you Eileen.'

  'He will try to kill me,' Eileen said.

  Melcorka saw the crow fly directly overhead, its black feathers ominous as it looked down upon them. It cawed once, loudly, flew to the battlements of the broch and landed as if coming home.

  That crow troubled Melcorka. She kept her misgivings to herself and checked Defender. Something was very wrong here and she did not know what it was.

  The sun dipped in that gloriously melancholic orange that was a feature of the far west, with Tuath saying farewell to his god with a circle of forefinger and thumb and Melcorka feeling melancholic, although for what she could not say. It may have been a nostalgic remembrance of her childhood on the island of Dachaigh, or some inherited folk memory from a time long before she was born. She did not know; she only knew that the most brilliant of sunsets unsettled her in some unaccountable manner so she was glad to escape the beauty and concentrate on the matter in hand.

  'Now, Bradan, you don't give the signal to Tuath until you see me half way up the walls of the broch, where the wall stops its inward incline and slopes outward toward the parapet. I will call to you as an oystercatcher.'

  Bradan nodded. 'I will wait for your call.'

  'And you, Tuath; you don't attack until Bradan calls to you as an owl. You have to curb your impatience to die like a hero. We much prefer you alive and killing Caterans.' She tried to smile despite that uncertainty that gnawed at her confidence.

  'I know what to do.' If Tuath had any resentment at being ordered around by a woman he hid it well.

  'And you, Eileen; if you decide to fire your arrows, then please make sure you don't hit me,' Melcorka said, 'or Tuath, come to think of it.' She glanced at Bradan. 'Or Bradan; he would never hurt you.'

  The little girl nodded. 'I know exactly what I am doing,' she said. 'I'm not as young as you think, you know.'

  'I am sure you are very old indeed,' Melcorka said.

  'Not too old,' Tuath growled, and winked at her.

  Eileen winked back, stuck out her tongue and managed to look even younger.

  'God's luck to us all,' Melcorka said, exchanged a last glance at Bradan and vanished into the night. Softly behind her she heard Bradan's response.

  'God's luck, Melcorka.'

  The edge of the loch was uneven, rimmed by reeds and rocks, each presenting its own difficulties to cross in the dark. Melcorka stumbled twice and swore once as she waded thigh-deep in an area of soft bogland. There was a single burn to cross, a gushing torrent from the mountain that fed the loch, but she lifted her cloak and leine to her hips and waded across, ignoring the shock of ice-cool water.

  Once she had to duck as a patrol boat passed close by, the phosphorescence of water disturbed by its oars as good as a lantern to reveal its position. She saw the shadowy shape of its crew against the death-glow of the sun, waited until it was gone and continued onward, always with that broch stark and tall in the centre of the loch and the knowledge that the life of Bradan and Alva depended on her success.

  From the far side of the loch the broch looked even taller, with the faint pale glow of the sun now below the horizon and the hum of night-hunting insects more reassuring than irritating. Melcorka took a deep breath and waited. She knew there were two boats on patrol and she had watched them to know exactly how much time she had to swim from the shore to the islet on which the broch stood.

  The second boat passed her now, its oars dipping and rising with rhythmic skill and the crew dim shapes behind the ranked shields along the bulwark. The master stood in stark silhouette in the stern with his helmet making his head large and his spear up-thrust against the darkening sky. She allowed the boat the count of ten, removed her cloak to pick it up later, tucked her leine between her thighs to give her manoeuvrability and stepped into the water.

  It was even colder than she had expected and she suppressed a shiver, glanced right and left and pushed forward toward the broch. Suppressing a momentary fear of a water-bull or other monster, she stayed underwater as long as possible to avoid detection from the parapet, pushed forward and swore as her knuckles barked against the rock of the central island.

  From the far shore it had seemed that there was a ledge on which she could balance before beginning the ascent, but the islet rock was greasy and sloped outward, so affording no foothold at all. Melcorka smiled; she had grown up on an island where part of life was descending the cliffs to raid the eggs of gugas and other seabirds, a staple food-source for the islanders. Climbing the sheer, concave walls of a broch was only a challenge, not an insurmountable obstacle.

  As soon as she reached up, Melcorka realised that whichever people had built this broch were master masons. Even without mortar, the stones fitted together so closely that there were no spaces in between. She had to find the tiniest of cracks and cling on by the power of finger tips and toes as she pulled herself up, one agonisingly painful hand-hold after another. There was no respite in the cliff-like wall, no ledges or areas where she could rest to relax her straining muscles. She had to keep climbing or give up, and she could never give up.

  Melcorka stilled the harsh rasp of her own breathing and fought the trembling strain as she put all her weight on the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes. She bit her lip at sudden pain when one of her nails was ripped away, to hang in a bloody, painful mess from her forefinger. She must not cry out; she must continue, easing upward; Bradan and Alva depended on her success. She must think of them; nothing else mattered.

  Voices from above forced Melcorka to freeze, clinging to the surface of the broch as vulnerable as any spider on a whitewashed wall. A guard leaned over the parapet and passed his torch back and forward, obviously performing a routine task. The flickering torchlight passed her, casting weird shadows along the wall but either the watchman did not notice or was too bored to properly look, for he moved on.

  Halfway: Melcorka looked sideways and saw nothing except dark space. Clouds obscured the sky so there was not even a glimmer of a star to break the black monotony. Taking a deep breath she whistled in her best imitation of an oystercatcher, waited until there was the answering hoot of an owl and sighed. Now Tuath would attack; she must push on as fast as she could.

  Melcorka continued her climb, stretching for the next handhold with her fingers screaming for mercy and her legs trembled with the strain. The last third was the worst as the walls sloped outward and her head overhung the dizzying drop to the loch. The night at its darkest and the parapet seemed to recede the more she climbed.

  The sound came to her suddenly. There was a curse, a loud splash and then Tuath's mighty roar and the crash of his axe on the tall door of the broch. Melcorka nearly smiled; Tuath was not a subtle man. The sound was followed by raised voices from the roof as the watchmen rushed to the side of the parapet that overlooked the front. The distraction gave Melcorka a few second's grace.

  Ignoring the agony of the strained fingers and toes, Melcorka hauled herself up the final few yards, scrambled over the parapet and drew Defender from her scabbard.

  'Hey, Caterans,' she called softly.

  They turned round, bringing their spears to the ready.

  The thrill of the sword coursed through her, increasing her strength and giving her all the skill of its previous owners.

  'It's a woman!' the first of the three watchmen held his torch high. 'How did she get up here?'

  'I flew like an eagle,' Melcorka said, and sliced sideways. Blood fountained high in the air as his disembodied head toppled
over the parapet. The body remained standing for what seemed a long time before it crumpled.

  The second and third watchmen swore and lunged at Melcorka with their short spears. Melcorka leaped back, felt the hard edge of the parapet against the small of her back and parried the spears with a swipe of her sword that removed both spear-heads so the watchmen were left holding lengths of wood.

  While one stared at his now useless weapon, Melcorka killed him with a single thrust to the heart. The last man, with courage that would have graced a better cause, tugged the long sword from his belt and slashed at Melcorka. She parried with ease, twisted Defender so the sword was wrested from the Cateran's grasp and hacked downward, cutting off his right arm at the elbow.

  The man screamed and stared as the life-blood pumped out of him.

  'You are a brave man,' Melcorka told him, and then killed him cleanly with a thrust to his heart. 'But foolish to fight me alone.'

  The design of this broch was identical to that of Hector's, with a single opening to the parapet and a flight of stone stairs leading to the level below. As Melcorka finished off the last of the three watchmen, a horde of Caterans pounded up the stairs toward her. In such a narrow entrance they could only come one at a time, so Melcorka stood at the head of the stairs, swinging Defender and killing them one by one. The Caterans were aggressive, fast and lithe, but Melcorka had all the collected power and skill of Defender's previous owners and disposed of them without effort, pushing their bodies back on top of their companions to further unsettle the men below.

  'Have you no skilled warriors?' Melcorka challenged, 'rather than boys and old men? Where are your captains? Make this fight worth my while!'

  As she destroyed the defenders on top of the broch, Melcorka heard the noise of battle below and knew that Tuath still lived and, to judge by his roaring, was having a splendid time disposing of any Cateran that came his way.

  'Tuath!' She shouted, 'can you hear me?'

  'As clear as if you were in the same broch!' Tuath's words were followed by the crunch of his axe through some unfortunate head.