The Shining One (The Swordswoman Book 2)

by Malcolm Archibald

  'How long have we been at this?' Tuath asked.

  'Not quite long enough,' Melcorka said. 'Keep working. The hole has to be large enough for my head, shoulders and hips to wriggle through.'

  Bradan stepped back as far as he could in the dungeon. 'Well your head will fit in, and maybe your shoulders. I am not sure about your hips, though…'

  Melcorka stared at him. 'Are you saying I have a big bum?'

  He grinned at her as Tuath watched. 'Will it fit through?'

  'I'll make it fit through,' Melcorka said, 'and then you will eat your words and apologise to me for your horrible insults!'

  Pushing him aside, she hoisted herself to the hole and thrust her head through. Her shoulders were harder, but she found she could get them through with some wriggling and the loss of some skin. As Bradan had predicted, her hips were the sticking point. She twisted, ignoring the pain as rough rock scraped at tender flesh, felt the flow of blood and knew she was stuck.

  'The gap is not big enough,' she said, returning into the dungeon and looking down at the rents in her leine. She glared at Bradan. 'I hope you were not gawping at me!'

  'I would not dare.' Bradan lifted his hands in mock horror at the idea of him taking advantage of Melcorka's situation.

  'Keep working,' Tuath said. Melcorka was grateful that he refrained from making any comments on the size of her hips. Instead he hoisted himself up and began a frenzied attack on the sides of the hole, swearing in a continual monotone as slivers of rock showered down into the dungeon.

  'You tried hard,' Bradan said.

  'I have not forgiven you yet,' Melcorka told him. 'Turn your back.' Lifting her leine she examined the damage. 'I'll live,' she said, glowering at both men as Bradan ignored her orders to look elsewhere. 'No thanks to you and your silly staff.'

  'Try that.' Sweat beaded Tuath's face as he dropped down from the hole. There was blood on his fingers where he had torn at the rock with his bare hands.

  Nodding, and giving Bradan a look that should have turned him into a pillar of salt, Melcorka hoisted herself back up. As before her head and shoulders fitted through and now she wriggled herself further before she stuck.

  'Give me a push!' She whispered over her shoulder.

  Willing hands grabbed at her, although she was not sure if they belonged to Bradan or Tuath. At that moment she did not care, as long as she got free, somehow. There was a long moment of tearing pain and then she stuck again with her upper body at the surface of the loch, her hips and thighs in the gap and her feet kicking frantically within the dungeon.

  Twisting her head, she could see the parapet of the broch far above, hoped the watchmen were not alert to the frothing of the water as she tried to escape. She swore as somebody gave her an almighty push from behind.

  Melcorka felt the flesh scrape from her hips and then she was free, splashing on the surface of the loch with voices up above her and small waves breaking on her face. Diving to avoid detection, she powered toward the shore, intent only on getting away from the broch.

  The rocks of the shore were welcoming; the scent of heather and peat a luxury after the confines of the dungeon, and Melcorka lay prone for a long moment, feeling the sting of her torn flesh and the enjoyment of freedom.

  Only now did she wonder: alone and without Defender: how was she to get Bradan and Tuath free of the dungeon?

  Chapter Fourteen

  'Right, men,' bleeding from both hips, wet, bedraggled and alone, Melcorka did not look impressive as she addressed the small group of survivors who cowered in a small bowl of the hills. 'I need your help.'

  The survivors looked up. 'You said you were going to destroy the broch and get us all home,' one man accused. He looked away again, having used up his small store of courage in thus addressing her.

  'I was and I am.' Melcorka said. 'Our first attempt did not go according to plan so we'll try again. That is why I need your help.'

  Some moved away; one or two looked interested, only one man stood up. 'What do you want us to do?'

  'What is your name?' Melcorka had noticed this man before. He was about thirty and had walked slightly apart from the others, with his head not so low and his shoulders not quite as hunched.

  'I am Kenneth MacNicol…'

  'Kenneth it is. I am Melcorka, as you know.' She held out her hand and he hesitated and then took it nervously. It was possible to tell a lot from the handshake of a man. Kenneth's was hard and open. 'You are a seaman … you are all seamen?'

  'Most of us are,' Kenneth said as some of the others gave reluctant nods and others avoided her eyes completely.

  'I want some seamen who are not afraid of hard knocks and who wish to get revenge on the Caterans.' Melcorka said. 'It will be dangerous and you may get killed.' She was not inclined to pretend all would be well. 'It is not something I can do myself. Who is with me?'

  'I am!' The voice came from beyond the dark.

  Melcorka turned around to see bald headed Duncan there, with two other men. 'I thought you were back in Alba by now,' she said.

  'We lost the ship and most of the men in a whirlpool,' Duncan said. 'I want to kill Caterans.' The two men behind him nodded. All three looked battered and bruised.

  'So there are four of us.' Melcorka did not ask for details.

  'Five of us,' Kenneth said, as she had hoped he would.

  'I'll come too,' a young voice sounded from the survivors. He stood up, shaking off a hand that sought to drag him back. 'I want to help!'

  'Good man,' Melcorka said, although he was barely more than a boy. 'What is your name?'

  'I am Liam Mac Manus.' The boy had huge eyes and a bruise that covered the entire left side of his face.

  'Welcome Liam; you are a man among men.' Melcorka saw him straighten his back and square his shoulders, as she had intended.

  'Six of us,' Melcorka said. 'That might be enough: unless there are more?' The men lowered their eyes as she looked over them. 'Very well, six champions to defeat the Osprey and his Caterans. Come with me.'

  As they walked, Melcorka warned them about Eileen.

  'What is she?' Kenneth asked.

  'I think she is of the Daoine Sidh, the People of Peace,' Melcorka said openly. 'So do not believe all you see or all you are told.'

  'What are we going to do?' Now he was committed, Liam was all eager to help.

  'Now we are going to become Caterans,' Melcorka said with a small smile.

  'What?' Duncan looked shocked.

  'Come with me, be as quiet as you can and do exactly as I say.' Melcorka tried to sound confident. She wished she had Defender. But she had not; she must manage as best she could and not let these men know she was only an ordinary island girl.

  'Where are we going?' Liam asked.

  'To the loch,' Melcorka forced a smile. 'You are all seamen and you are going to row a boat tonight.' She looked at the sky. 'Or rather today; dawn is only a whisker away.' That was a sobering thought as the Osprey had promised to execute them all this morning. She had to act quickly; she had a group of demoralised seamen and at most two hours to rescue Bradan and Tuath.

  As she expected, the two patrol boats were moving slowly, nearly languidly around the loch with their crews of bored oarsmen paying little attention to their surroundings as they worked at a task that had probably become routine many weeks ago.

  'Stop here,' Melcorka pulled her handful of nervous men into the shelter of the same rocks at which she had planned to capture the broch only a day before. 'Now listen,' she explained what she wanted them to do. 'Tell me if you do not understand.'

  They looked at her, nodding slowly. Melcorka smiled, trying to restore confidence into men who were obviously frightened. 'If we all work together we can win this war and get our revenge on this Osprey.' Liam nodded back eagerly; the others were less sure. 'So go and find some sort of weapon; anything, a rock, a stick, anything that you can use and then come with me and we will choose a suitable spot for our plan.'

  Half an hour lat
er, with her instructions given and hopefully understood, Melcorka led them to the furthest point from the broch, where the two boats were at the greatest distance from each other. She settled down in the shadow of a clump of stunted hawthorn trees with the wind rustling in the branches and the sound of wavelets lapping on the half-seen shore of the loch. This could be a beautiful island, if it was not for the Caterans. Melcorka waited until she saw the faint luminosity from the boat's oars and heard the crew's muted murmur of conversation. Then she stood up.

  The boat moved on. 'They're too bored to even notice me,' Melcorka said conversationally, and stepped forward, making sure to kick a couple of stones and make a noise.

  'Who's that?' At last somebody noticed her. 'Who's there?'

  Melcorka waited until she was sure the oarsmen realised she was a human and not some wild animal, and then she turned around and scrambled noisily away, turning over as many stones and rocks as she could. 'Get away from me!' She shouted and scrambled into the dark. 'Leave me alone!'

  'That's a woman!' the voice floated from the guard boat. 'Catch her!'

  The boat pulled for the shore and the crew jumped into the loch or onto the rocky shore, shouting and yelling in their joy at having something to do rather than circle an empty loch for endless hours.

  'I can see her,' somebody shouted, 'it's a woman in a leine!'

  'Follow her!'

  Melcorka glanced over her shoulder, trying to keep far enough ahead for safety while still allowing her pursuers to believe they could catch her. She ran into a shallow valley, with rocks along one side and a straggle of scrubby bushes covering the southern slopes on the other, kicking stones so she could be followed. The Caterans followed, whooping in their joy of the chase.

  Melcorka heard movement around her and yelled: 'Not yet!' Too late as her survivor volunteers unleashed a volley of stones and rocks at the Caterans and then charged down with as much noise as they could, exactly as Melcorka had ordered, if a few moments early.

  Reaching down, Melcorka lifted the length of wood that she had placed ready on the ground and rushed back toward the Caterans. Fully aware that without Defender she was out-muscled and out-skilled by any of the Caterans, she compensated by sheer aggression, swinging her makeshift club with as much power as she could.

  Eight Caterans had left their boat to chase Melcorka. By the time she reached them, the survivors had felled five of them; she knocked one down with her club, lifted it high and smashed it on his head again and again until she was gasping with effort and the Cateran's head was a mush of broken bone, brain and blood.

  By that time it was all over. The ground was a litter of dead or moaning Caterans while those who had survived had fled into the night. Melcorka hoped that they would be too disheartened to be effective for some time.

  'Grab their weapons and outer clothes,' Melcorka said, 'hurry! Follow me!' Lifting the sword of the man she had mangled, she ran back toward the loch, with Liam, Kenneth and Duncan close behind and the other two survivors less keen on continuing the fight but still tagging on in the rear.

  A Cateran who had survived the ambush was in front of them, yelling like some demon of the night. Hardly thinking what she was doing, Melcorka hacked at him with her new sword, the stroke feeling clumsy after the perfect balance and grace of Defender.

  The man screamed as the sword dug into his shoulder. He turned to face her, pleading for his life until Kenneth thrust a sword deep into his chest. The Cateran gasped, twisting on the edge of Kenneth's blade, with blood and froth bubbling from his mouth. Melcorka hacked at him, again, cutting into his head without killing him, wishing she had the skill that Defender provided. Kenneth twisted his sword and plunged it into the man's throat so he died messily.

  'Keep going!' Melcorka gasped. 'We need that boat.' She knew the sounds of battle would carry far in the night but hoped her plan would counter that, if everybody kept their nerve and acted as they were supposed to. She took a deep breath and tried to put on a bold face.

  The guard boat lay at the water's edge with the remaining four crewmen looking anxiously in the direction of the yells and shouts.

  'They're coming!' Kenneth yelled, as Melcorka had ordered him to. 'They're after us! Hundreds of them!'

  'Who?' The first man said, just as Kenneth leaped on board, with Melcorka a close second and Duncan and Liam at their backs. They began killing as soon as they were on the boat, swords whirring and slashing with little skill but a great deal of pent up fear and frustration. The Caterans attempt at resistance was useless. They belatedly drew their swords or grabbed their spears, yelling in fear and frustrated anger that availed them nothing. Melcorka's desperate band eliminated them in seconds.

  'That's stage one,' Melcorka gasped for breath and looked over the bloody boat she had captured from the Caterans. It was a small victory and she was a long way from freeing Bradan and Tuath, but it was the first step and would give heart and confidence to her small band. 'Now we have to get into the broch and prevent an execution or two.' And get Defender back, she thought. 'I have a plan.'

  Chapter Fifteen

  'What was all the shouting back there?' The guard at the great doorway to the broch called out to them across the stretch of dark water. 'We heard shouting and screaming.'

  'You've lost your prisoners!' Duncan yelled. 'We found all three of them scrambling around in the water. They put up the devil of a fight and we killed one and captured the woman. The third got away in the dark.'

  'One got away?' The guard sounded angry. 'How the hell did that happen?'

  'We only lost one; you lost all three!' Duncan managed to sound quite indignant while still keeping the boat in the darkness beyond the causeway in the greying dawn light. 'They must have slipped past you.'

  'Nobody got past me!' The guard said. 'Who are you? You're not Donald! Where's Donald?'

  'Donald's dead,' Duncan said. 'That big ugly bearded bastard you let free killed him.'

  'Get closer,' Melcorka hissed. 'Throw your plaids over your heads and get into the broch.'

  The survivors were not the best warriors in the world but when it came to handling a boat they had nothing to learn. A couple of hard pulls at the oars saw them grind hard against the hidden rocks of the causeway and Kenneth led them onto the ankle-deep water and moved toward the watchman at the gate.

  'Here's the woman,' Duncan said, pushing Melcorka forward with a little too much enthusiasm for her liking. She did not have to pretend the stumble that threw her against the guard, or the fumble for balance that saw both fall against the door in a tangle of arms and legs.

  'Take him!' Melcorka said, urgently, and Duncan and Kenneth jumped on the guard, subduing him with hard blows to the head and thrusts with their swords that nearly nicked Melcorka in the arm.

  'What's all the noise?' a watchman called from above. He thrust his torch in front of him so its flickering light illuminated the smooth stones of the wall. Pieces of burning brush-wood fell into the loch, to be extinguished with a hiss. 'Iain? Are you all right down there?'

  'The woman's escaped but we captured her,' Duncan kept well away from the torchlight as he spoke.

  Fumbling to open the door, Melcorka found a lever set deep in the wall. She pulled it, with Liam eager to help. At first nothing happened and then the door swung open, accompanied by soft creaking and a blast of cold air.

  'The dungeon is in the courtyard,' Melcorka lifted the guard's sword and pushed inside. She was surprised that there was no lighting; nothing but darkness and the chill of concentrated evil. The internal walls of the broch thrust up all around, a circle of cold stone reaching to the hopeless anonymity of the sky. Reaching back, she grabbed the guard's torch and held it high.

  The courtyard was empty. Melcorka had expected at least one guard here instead of the bare circular space where rough grass spouted amidst the raw rock of the islet. Set near the north side of the broch was the square flagstone of the trap-door. A massive iron bar fastened down its looped handle.
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  Kenneth and Liam were first to grip the bar, yet it needed the addition of Duncan's muscles to haul it free.

  Melcorka knelt at the hole. 'Bradan? Tuath?'

  'About time you got here!' Tuath's head thrust out of the hole. 'We're nearly drowning in there.' He clambered out, hauling Bradan behind him. 'Who are these men?'

  'Friends,' Melcorka said, just as the flare of many torches lit up the courtyard.

  Melcorka blinked in the sudden light. She looked around, seeing a dozen Caterans holding torches and about ten more fully armed, with the Osprey in front holding Defender in one hand. She knew she had to act quickly, yet she would not catch these men by surprise.

  'After me, men!' With no hesitation she threw herself directly at the Osprey, sword thrust in front of her in the hope that a quick kill that would end the contest right there.

  'Where did you come from?' The Osprey parried her stroke with casual ease, stepped aside and pushed her so she staggered against the inside wall of the broch. 'I thought you were all safely locked up.' He laughed as he kicked her. 'I also thought you were a warrior rather than a lumbering farmer.'

  Melcorka turned round to see her survivors locked in a desperate, sword to sword fight with the Caterans, while Tuath strangled a man with his bare hands. She looked for Bradan and felt a surge of relief that he was still alive, standing against the wall and fending off an attacker with his staff.

  Turning, Melcorka slashed again, aiming at the Osprey's neck, to see him parry the blow with ease so casual that it verged on the contemptuous. Her borrowed sword sounded cheap and weak when it clashed with Defender. She tried again, thrusting low at his groin, and then turning her sword upward. Once again Defender blocked her blow, with the Osprey grinning at her.

  'This sword that was once yours has a life of its own,' he said. 'Thank you for such a sweet gift.' His single eye gleamed at her as he tossed back his mane of white hair. 'Try again little girl: I can do this all day, or until I decide to kill you.'