The Shining One (The Swordswoman Book 2)

by Malcolm Archibald

  The water bubbled and surged out of an immense hole in the side of the tunnel, an underground or undersea waterfall that poured into the channel. Beyond the water was only darkness. She peered ahead with hope fading, until she heard the tapping of Bradan's staff, faint at first and then increasing in volume as he neared her.

  'Light!' Bradan reported breathlessly from ahead. 'There is a circle of light one thousand two hundred paces ahead.' He touched her shoulder. 'I did not go all the way.'

  'Go and find out,' Melcorka had taken control, 'and come and tell me.' She gave him a little push. 'Go on, Bradan!'

  He moved away again, seemingly the only one among them who was impervious to fatigue as he returned the way he had come with the rap-rap-rap of his staff acting as a measure of his progress.

  Melcorka began to move again, ignoring the Ulvust people's cries of wonder and astonishment at the sight of the waterfall. She understood their feelings.

  The air had been foul and heavy for an eternity; just how long Melcorka could not tell. She only knew that now it was changing. There was a new coldness around her and a freshness she had not breathed for far too long.

  'We are nearing the end,' Bradan was back at her side. 'The tunnel finishes in quite a wide space, but there is no way out. There is only a tiny gap in a wall of rock. We are trapped down here.'

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Melcorka felt as if somebody had kicked her in the stomach. After fighting the selkie king and walking the darkness of the tunnel, to face defeat was sickening. She stood at the wall of rock that stretched upward and all around, breathing heavily, fighting the sickness of despair.

  'Where is the light coming from?'

  Bradan pointed to a small hole about thirty feet above their heads. 'There; it is no larger than a human head.'

  Melcorka heard the released prisoners cramming into the space behind her, and the expected wails of despair. She looked upward; the wall of the cave was glass smooth, with only the tiniest of hand and footholds. No ordinary man or woman could climb that, but she knew there was no choice. Growing up on a small island, climbing down cliff faces to retrieve bird's eggs for food had been a weekly occupation. If she did not climb, she did not eat. 'Hold this,' she handed Defender to Bradan, kicked off her brogues so she had better purchase and felt for the first hold.

  The holds were tiny, little more than miniscule cracks in the rock, suitable for spiders or women from the Isles. Hauling herself up, taking her time to test each hold, feeling the strain in fingers and toes, calves and forearms, she made slow progress.

  'You're nearly there,' Bradan said, the words seeming to come from very far below.

  The hole from which light seeped gave her a more secure hold, affording relief to muscles that screamed for help. Melcorka rested there, peering through to see what was on the other side. She could see blue sky and a stretch of bleak moorland that was welcome after so long in the dark. It was so close that if she stretched out her arm she could put the tip of a finger into fresh air, yet so far away she could not reach it. Three feet of solid rock lay between them and freedom.

  'There is an arm's length of rock between us and the outside world,' she shouted. 'We will have to break through the rock, somehow.'

  'Make tools!' Tuath would not be discouraged. 'Use the chains and manacles to hack at the rock! Make hand holds so we can help Melcorka!'

  Tuath knew his people. By giving them something to do he had restored both hope and pride. Now focussed, the men of Ulvust worked with energy so within minutes the cavern was a scene of bustle as they banged and chopped at the walls, creating a number of indentations that gradually climbed higher and higher toward the hole and acted as handholds so more men could help Melcorka. When they were close to the gap, the men began to chip away at the rock in front of them, leaving Melcorka to hack at the hole itself. The work was hot and exhausting, but absolutely essential if they were to escape.

  'Nobody is complaining now,' Melcorka said on one of her few breaks. She slithered to the bottom of the cliff, sat on the ground and wiped beads of perspiration from her forehead with the back of her arm.

  'They have something to do; they have something at which to aim, an objective. It is when men are bored or cannot see the purpose of their endeavours that they complain the most.' Tuath was dripping with sweat and working as hard as any of his people.

  Melcorka looked up. 'I'll remember that.' From down here the hole looked tiny, with all her scraping and hacking having achieved very little. 'At this rate it will take days to make that gap big enough to get anybody out.'

  Bradan nodded. 'I know.'

  'We will all die of starvation before then.' Melcorka rose to her feet. 'We had better carry on.'

  Tuath organised his people in a rota system so there were always four men hacking at the wall, carving out steps to the high gap and chipping away at the wall as they did so. The more steps were made, the easier it was for Melcorka to reach the hole and fragment by fragment, inch by inch, she enlarged it.

  She was not sure how long it took before the steps reached the hole. It was certainly many hours; it might have been days but at last Tuath stood beside her, gaunt of face but his grin as familiar as ever.

  'Stand down, Melcorka,' he said. 'You need a break.'

  Melcorka nodded. For all the energy expended, the hole was only fractionally larger. When they had worked on the window in the dungeon, the wall had been thinner and the hole larger. Here, despite all their efforts, the gap had only increased by the width of a fingernail.

  'We may die down here yet,' she said.

  'We will not die,' Bradan told her.

  She heard the whistling before she saw anybody. The sound was familiar, yet from where she could not say.

  'Melcorka!' Alva's voice sounded. 'It's the little bog people!'

  Melcorka looked around to grab at Defender, remembering where she had heard that whistling before. Stuck here in the tunnel, the men of Ulvust would be easy targets for these agile little archers.

  'No…' Bradan put a hand on her arm. 'I don't think they are going to attack us.'

  The first of the bog people slithered through the gap as easily as if he was trotting across his own bog, and clambered down the inside to approach Melcorka. He was smiling and pointing to his leg.

  'I know you,' Melcorka said. 'You are the man who I wounded and returned.'

  The man spoke in a whistle and immediately a host of little men appeared at the outside entrance to the tunnel. Producing pieces of flat flint no larger than their own small hands, they began to scrape away at the rock, with one man replacing another as soon as his work rate slowed. They were chattering together, grinning as though they enjoyed the work and within minutes Melcorka could see that they were making a difference.

  With many hands working on the gap it was only a few hours before it was large enough to crawl through. The arrow-wounded bog man ran in and out as if it was a game, laughing at his own skill.

  Taking hold of Melcorka's hand, he brought her to the now much expanded gap, waved his hand around as if he was presenting her with a gift and ran outside. His people followed at once, leaving only silence and their memory behind.

  'That was strange,' Tuath said. 'I thought we would have to fight them again.'

  'That is the reward for Melcorka's mercy in not killing that wounded man,' Bradan said. 'It is a lesson to remember.'

  Tuath nodded. 'Now, who is first to go outside?' he called, and laughed at the sudden enthusiasm.

  'We don't know where it will take us,' Melcorka said. 'I had better be first. I am probably best equipped to fight, if there is fighting to be done.'

  'I'll come with you,' Tuath said.

  'Your people need you,' Bradan told him. 'More than ever, now.' He climbed up behind Melcorka. 'You and I, Melcorka, and God help us.'

  'You and I,' she agreed, and wormed her way through the hole and into the world beyond.

  After so long in the darkness underground, the dayli
ght was so intense she could hardly see, but as she grew accustomed to the light, she looked around her and laughed.

  'Bradan! Look where we are!'

  He joined her, holding his staff in front of him like a weapon. 'Oh dear God in heaven,' he said. 'I would never have believed it.'

  They had emerged from a rock on the outer line of stones at Callanish, with the sacred circle a hundred paces in front and the whole array of standing stones on either side. Melcorka took a deep breath and blinked as the light hurt her eyes.

  'Let's get the people out,' Bradan said. 'They'll be very glad to breathe fresh air again!'

  'Look there,' Melcorka pointed. 'Somebody is watching.'

  'I can't see anybody,' Bradan said. He tapped his staff on the ground. 'Maybe it was a trick of the light.'

  'Maybe I am not used to light now,' Melcorka agreed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The people of Ulvust came out one by one, some staggering, others laughing, some helping their neighbours, others refusing all aid as they thrust out onto the surface of the island. All were exhausted, white faced, weary and more scared than they cared to admit. All blinked and closed their eyes at the power of even the weak northern sun.

  'We're back at Callanish,' Tuath said. 'That tunnel took us right under the sea to the island of Lewis.'

  'From one temple to another,' Bradan said. 'I don't know if that means anything or not.' He listened to the sound of surf on the coast nearby. 'I was hoping for some seagulls,' he said.

  'I was hoping for an oystercatcher,' Melcorka said. 'I feel as if my totem birds have deserted me.' She searched the pale grey skies without success.

  'They will be watching, somewhere,' Bradan touched her arm lightly.

  'Maybe the crows scared them all away,' Alva said.

  'I can't see any crows,' Melcorka said.

  'Over there if you look,' Alva was bad-tempered through weariness. She flapped a hand in the general direction of the north where three crows flew together.

  'Oh yes, I see them,' Melcorka said.

  'Oh look; there are others,' Alva pointed west, and then east and south. Three crows came from each direction.

  'Three crows flying together from all four directions,' Bradan tapped his staff on the ground. He looked at Melcorka, eyes weary.

  'I hope it does not mean what I think it does,' Melcorka said.

  'So do I.' Bradan tapped his staff again, harder.

  'More!' Alva said, 'and more.'

  'Bradan? Does this mean something?' Tuath pushed Alva toward Igraine.

  'Crows are a sign of the Morrigan, the Great Queen; she loves war and lusts after men … and there she is, God help us all.' Bradan stepped in front of Melcorka in an attempt to protect her.

  Melcorka watched as Eileen swayed seductively along the avenue that led to the central monolith. She had assumed the shape of that dark haired, extremely shapely woman, with bright eyes and slightly pouting red lips.

  'So you are, back, Eileen the Morrigan,' Melcorka said quietly.

  'That is one name that people call me. I can also be Badb, or Bab, or …'

  'I only have one name,' Melcorka said. 'And I am aware of your tricks.'

  'You have Bradan the Wanderer to look after you,' Eileen continued to sway forward, with the crows circling above her, cawing to each other. 'That makes you a very lucky lady.' She sighed and looked upward. 'Who do you have to look after Bradan the Wanderer?'

  'He has me,' Melcorka said.

  Eileen's laugh was as attractive as the rest of her. 'My dear Melcorka, how much longer do you think he will have you?'

  Melcorka smiled. 'He will have me until he no longer wants me.' She touched the hilt of Defender.

  'I would say considerably less than that, Melcorka. You will not be able to look after when you are dead. Look to the sky.' Eileen pointed above her head.

  Melcorka watched as the crows stopped circling Eileen, congregated into the shape of an arrow and flew toward the rising sun. They formed a ring around what appeared to be a bright speck that detached itself from the sun, and escorted it slowly downward.

  'What's that?' The question came from one of the freed prisoners.

  'It's something flying!' Tuath squinted into the sun. 'Some sort of large bird.'

  'It's not a bird; it's a chariot! Igraine said. 'It's a glowing chariot with somebody in it.'

  Tuath stepped back. 'It's Bel himself! It's the sun god!' He held up his hand, forefinger and thumb pressed together. 'Bel himself. Bel is the real Shining One!'

  'Yes; it's Bel himself,' Eileen said quietly. 'Do you think you are ready to meet him face to face?'

  'It's not Bel,' Bradan said loudly. 'It's an illusion. Don't believe what you see: it is one of the Morrigan's tricks!'

  'Bel!' Tuath, the muscular giant who would fight his way through an army and laugh at his wounds, fell on his knees before whatever it was the crows were rapidly escorting to the ground.

  'Tuath!' Melcorka shouted. 'Tuath!'

  'He's gone,' Bradan said as Tuath grabbed Igraine and Alva and hurried them back through the hole and into the tunnel. 'Seeing his god was too much even for him.' He raised his voice. 'The rest of you, get back! The Morrigan is out here!'

  The chariot flew past them, pulled by two golden horses with fiery manes and its spoked wheels burning and flames coming from its sides and rear. There was a hiss and the smell of scorched grass as the chariot landed at the far end of the avenue. The rider dismounted.

  His armour was golden, with wings on the sides of his helmet and on his shin guards; he carried an oval shield embossed with the image of the sun and a long sword that gleamed gold along the length of its blade.

  Melcorka stepped back from this man of such splendour and majesty. She unsheathed Defender, feeling that familiar and welcome surge of power, knowing she would fight anybody and anything to defend her man… Bradan, her man, and little Alva.

  'Whoever you are,' Melcorka said. 'Face me!'

  The golden creature ignored her as if she did not exist. The twin horses pulled the chariot up the length of the avenue, leaving each standing stone ablaze in its wake.

  'Are you Bel?' Melcorka asked. 'Are you the god of the sun?'

  Dimly in some realm of her subconscious, she was aware of Bradan's voice, although she could not make out his words. She saw him walking forward, his staff tapping on the ground, slow and sure and steady. Her Bradan: never demonstrative, never boastful, always reliable and as brave as any warrior, champion or hero.

  'Bradan!' She shouted the words as Bel lifted his shield high and swept it sideways, sending Bradan crashing against the closest of the standing stones. Bradan slumped to the ground and lay still as the golden aura around Bel increased tenfold so Melcorka was staring into nothing but a blaze of light so intense it hurt her eyes.

  The familiarity brought back memories of Hector's battle here. She faced the same intense brightness and the same sword-to-sword duel with a mighty warrior.

  Fitheach's words returned to her. 'Beware of the Bel beachd, the circle of Bel, Melcorka of the Cenel Bearnas.'

  Melcorka grunted. Yes, she would beware, but she would also fight.

  'Eileen!' Melcorka gripped the hilt of Defender. 'Morrigan! Badb or whatever name you hide behind. You are using your tricks on me!'

  Bel faded, flickered and vanished. Eileen took his place; she still retained the shape of a beautiful woman, still smiled and still emanated an aura of love and allure. She stood over Bradan, shaking her head. 'Such a lean, handsome man,' she said. 'It would be such a waste to destroy him.' When she looked up, her eyes were soft as a deer. 'He is still alive, Melcorka. I may keep him for myself.' She snapped her fingers and Bel reappeared, still tall, still muscular, still wearing his armour but no longer god-like.

  'Egil!' Melcorka's heart rate multiplied and sick despair churned within her. This was the murderer of her mother, the killer of her clan and the man she knew Defender could never destroy.

  'That is who
I am,' Egil lifted Bradan's staff and threw it far away. 'Now your friend is as powerless against us as your sword is against me.'

  Melcorka tried to step forward to help Bradan. She could not; Eileen was controlling her.

  'Now you are alone, Melcorka,' Eileen said softly. 'Alone and facing your nemesis, the one man in the world that your sword cannot protect you against. You have no host at your back to help you, no Bradan to give advice, nothing except your own anger and hatred to face Egil, the man who killed your mother and the man who will kill Bradan and then kill you.'

  When Eileen stretched to three times her size and bent over her, Melcorka saw her face alter from beauty to hideous as her nose elongated and sharpened into a beak and her eyes shrunk to small red orbs. For a second Melcorka stared into the predatory face of a crow, and then Eileen was back in all her false beauty, with her voice smooth and caressing.

  'Come then Melcorka, embrace your future; you have not much of it left, and that bitter and full of woe.'

  Melcorka tightened her grip of Defender and raised her voice. 'Come, Egil! Fight me if you dare.' She glared at Eileen. 'And as for you…' she swung Defender and chopped Eileen in half, with her head and shoulders dissolving into a welter of blood and black feathers.

  'See, Egil: I have killed your witch!'

  The cawing of crows mocked her as the whole flock landed among the stones. 'Killed me?' the nearest said, and altered its form to that of the young Eileen. 'Killed me?' laughed the second, as it became a teenaged Eileen. 'Killed me?' said the third and became Eileen as a woman in her twenties, about to blossom into full maturity.

  'I am not dead,' said a fourth, and the mature, dark headed beauty that Melcorka had just killed was standing opposite her, preening her feathers. 'I am in the eyes of every crow in this land. I am Badb; I am Macha, I am Nemainn, I am the Morrigan. I am everywhere; I am an eel and a she-wolf; I am Modron; I am Morgan le Fay; I am Eileen, I am woman and I am goddess…'

  'And I am Melcorka!' Melcorka shouted. 'Fight me Egil, face to face and without the trickery and spells of this cawing old crow!'