The Shining One (The Swordswoman Book 2) Page 11

  'We attack the first boat and kill them all,' Tuath said. 'That will discourage the others.' He tested the edge of his axe-blade with his thumb, drawing blood.

  'That will kill a lot of Caterans,' Bradan agreed, 'but it will not solve our problem of defeating the scourge and remaining alive to regain Alva.'

  Tuath swung his axe, revelling in the prospect of battle. 'What do you propose, man with a stick?'

  'I know that Melcorka is a mighty warrior and I have no doubt that you also have killed your quota of men, yet I do not believe that even you two can kill all the Caterans in the world simply by attacking them head on. I do not even think that they have seen us yet.'

  'They have not,' Tuath said, 'or they would have already attacked. They must be preparing for a raid on somebody.'

  'Or they are returning from a raid,' Melcorka said. 'They are furling their sails and heading for land.'

  Bradan nodded. 'They think they are safe here in this island of eagles; the last thing they expect is to see anybody else here. Let's keep out of sight until we decide what to do.'

  Tuath frowned. 'How can we kill them if we are out of their sight?' He grounded his axe and leaned on the head of the blade, scorning to conceal himself.

  'You will get your share of killing, Tuath,' Bradan said, sliding behind a rock, 'never fear, but killing with a purpose, not just for the sake of spilling blood.'

  'Go on then, Bradan; tell us your plan,' Melcorka joined him behind the rock.

  'We get to the leader, this Osprey, and either kill him or bring him back to Hector. With him gone the Caterans will be just another bunch of broken men and will be easy enough for the Lord of the Isles or the Constable to hunt down, or even for Hector to destroy. Now we have found where their headquarters are, I can't see many problems.'

  'That is not much of a plan,' Tuath said, still standing in the open and leaning on his axe.

  'Do you have a better one?' Bradan asked pointedly.

  Tuath grunted and did not give a direct reply. 'Do you expect Hector, or Donald of the Isles, to lead a fleet of birlinns through that water spout and down the Corryvreckan?'

  'No, I don't, but nor do I think that the Caterans come that way every time. We will find a better way back.' Bradan did not flinch from Tuath's glare.

  'How do you expect to do that?' Tuath sneered.

  'By following a Cateran ship or by asking them nicely.'

  Tuath fingered the edge of his axe again. 'I could do the asking.'

  'I can think of nobody better suited for the task,' Melcorka intervened. 'In the meantime, I think we wait until night, cross to the island and see what we can find out.' She nodded to Bradan. 'Bradan is correct; you, Tuath could kill all the Caterans, but the Osprey would only recruit more. If we kill the leader the disease will just melt away.'

  Tuath grinned. 'We find their leader and kill him.' He seemed to suddenly approve of the idea.

  'That is the first part of the plan,' Bradan said. 'The second part is in getting away safely.'

  'We will take these two parts separately,' Melcorka said. 'We will face the first part first and then the second.'

  Hiding Catriona in a dip between two rocks, they camouflaged her with seaweed, threw some handfuls of sand over the top for effect and rested.

  'It was sunset when we came to that water spout,' Bradan said. 'I wonder why it is still daylight now.'

  'I do not know,' Melcorka said. 'It is what it is. We take turns to go on watch until dark,' she decided, 'in case the Caterans send a patrol out, although I think that is very unlikely.'

  'I'll take first watch,' Tuath said. 'I am not tired.'

  'I am,' Melcorka stifled a yawn as she smiled. 'I'm glad you volunteered.'

  Woken a couple of hours before sunset, Melcorka struggled to remember where she was. Oh yes, she was on the Island of Eagles with Bradan and Hector's bodyguard who may well have orders to kill her, and a few hundred Caterans who would delight in parting her head from her body. All was fine with the world then; all she had to do was find the Osprey in the midst of his men, kill or capture him, defeat the Caterans and get back safely through whirlpools and waterspouts to ensure that Bradan was not executed, Alva was not drowned and she was not destined to share Hector's bed.

  'Up you get, Melcorka,' Bradan smiled to her, 'and let me get some sleep.'

  'Is anything happening out there?'

  'Only some very loud eagles calling to each other. Good night.'

  Melcorka took Bradan's place on the island side of the rocks where Catriona was hidden and looked across to Inch Iolaire. The island was about three miles long, and she did not know how deep with a range of low, rocky hills on the east side and a couple of high hills on the west. If she were the Osprey, where would she have her headquarters? Somewhere she could oversee most of the island and particularly the harbour, or wherever the birlinns were berthed.

  Melcorka grinned. That was one sure way of drawing out the Osprey; threaten or destroy his ships and he would come running from whatever hole he hid himself in. That might aid Bradan's plan.

  The wind was light for the western coast, sufficient to keep away the ferocious Hebridean midges, the tiny biting flies that hunted in packs millions strong, and to kick the tops off the waves, but not strong enough to be uncomfortable. They sat in the lee of the rocks, watching a glorious sunset that set the western sky alight in a kaleidoscope of orange, yellow and red.

  'With so much beauty,' Bradan said, 'I always wonder why men have to fight.' He sighed and pointed west. 'That is free for all to enjoy.'

  'You can discuss that with the Osprey when you meet him,' Tuath said sourly, 'and then I will kill him.'

  'We have to swim across to the main island,' Melcorka said, 'I am not going to chance Catriona being seen or worse, lost.' She explained her plan to them, nodding as they added small improvements.

  The water was cold, with a strong current that dragged them sideways so they were a hundred yards from their intended landing place when they arrived on the island and shook the worst of the water off them.

  'The wind will soon dry us,' Melcorka said.

  'It's a fine clear night,' Bradan looked upward where a million stars illuminated the night and the moon was already beginning its journey across the sky.

  Tuath ducked his head to the moon and gave a short prayer as the others stopped to respect his religion.

  'Ready?' Melcorka asked, and led them at a silent jog along the coastline of the island. With no notion of the geography she moved in the direction they had seen the birlinns sail the previous day, hoping the vessels had been heading for their harbour and not sailing outward on a raid.

  The skerry where they had landed provided a breakwater for the sea, with huge surf on the outside but calm, if shifting, water within. To their right Inch Iolaire was dark and mysterious, without a single house-light to tell of human habitation and only the desultory call of night-hunting birds to tell of any life at all.

  'This is a dismal place,' Bradan said.

  Intent on her plans for the Caterans' birlinns, Melcorka did not reply. There was no need.

  'Smell!' Bradan put out a hand and they stopped. Despite their exertion they breathed easily, chests rising and falling steadily as they stood still.

  'I smell it,' Melcorka said.

  'As do I,' Tuath shifted the axe he carried across his right shoulder. 'Peat smoke.'

  'Peat smoke, people and cattle,' Bradan said. 'About quarter of a mile ahead. And tar I think; yes tar.'

  'Tar to waterproof the birlinns,' Melcorka nodded. 'We have found their harbour.'

  They moved again, slower and more cautiously, silent on the rocks, gliding through the soft grass and their eyes probing into the darkness beyond.

  'Can you hear that?' Melcorka asked, 'music and singing.'

  The sounds drifted through the night on the back of the wind, now low, now increasing, with the wind carrying bursts of laughter, the wild skirl of bagpipes and the lower, sweeter melody of
the harp.

  'The Caterans are celebrating a successful voyage,' Tuath said. 'That will be the crews of these ships we saw come in.'

  'Booty and slaughter,' Bradan said.

  'We have chosen a good time to arrive,' Melcorka touched the hilt of her sword. 'They will be drunk and distracted; it could hardly be better.'

  'Look at the sky,' Bradan pointed to an orange glow that flicked ahead. 'They must be feasting outside; that is a fire-glow.'

  They moved on, still slowly, testing each step, listening for stray Caterans, breathing softly.

  'Hold,' Tuath whispered next. 'Movement ahead.'

  They stopped and slowly crouched down, peering into the night.

  'Over there,' Bradan pointed with his chin; hiss words barely audible. 'Two people; a man and maid together.'

  The laughter was short and ugly, followed by a grunt, more harsh laughter and loud gasping. The woman gave a little scream, quickly suppressed, and then she giggled.

  'Definitely man and maid together,' Tuath said.

  'We'll leave them to it,' Melcorka decided and moved on again.

  The Cateran lurched from behind a rock, adjusting his clothing. They did not see him until he was nearly upon them.

  'Who are you? I don't know you?' His speech was slurred with drink, his eyes confused and Tuath killed him with a single blow of his axe. The man fell without another word, his head cleft in two and brains and blood pouring onto the ground at their feet. Tuath dragged him back to the shelter of the rock.

  'That is one less,' Tuath said.

  'Good,' Melcorka gave professional approval. 'You killed him well.'

  Plucking a handful of grass, Tuath cleaned the blood from the blade of his axe and grinned. 'Let's kill some more.'

  Slower now, they moved on, hoping to avoid any stray Caterans in case they gave their presence away. All the time the noise of carousing increased, laughter and singing interspersed with loud screams and cries of protest as the glow in the sky intensified.

  'It is over that ridge, whatever it is,' Bradan pointed to a low rise, topped with irregular boulders and a few wind-tortured trees.

  'Come on then,' Melcorka was first up the rocky crags and stopped beside a hawthorn tree for Tuath and Bradan to catch her.

  She lay prone on the summit, looking over a scene that could have come from any Viking encampment or barbarian Saxon village after a raid on civilised lands.

  The coast indented to form a natural harbour, on the rocky shore of which a score of birlinns lay, spars at an angle, sails furled and hulls dragged free of the water. They looked well used, with salt stains on their hulls and some with scars of raw timber where their victims had fought back with spear and arrow.

  Inland of the harbour was the Caterans' settlement; perhaps a hundred cottages and long houses scattered without plan or order around an irregular central square. It seemed that most of the Caterans were dancing, drinking and singing around a huge fire that illuminated the central square. In the spaces between the huts and cottages, men and women were busy together, and to judge by the screams, many of the women were very reluctant partners.

  'They are enjoying the spoils of their raid,' Bradan said quietly. 'Drink, music and women. A Caterans' heaven.'

  'They could be our women, from Ulvust,' Tuath ran his hands up the haft of his axe. 'We should strike now when they are least expecting us. We could kill them all.'

  For a second Melcorka pondered the idea, then she shook her head. 'No,' she said. 'We stick to the plan and go for the ships to attract the Osprey.'

  When they approached, Melcorka saw that although most of the Caterans were drunk, the Osprey had not totally neglected his defences. There were a few patrols of sober and fully armed men moving around the settlement, watching proceedings yet not joining in.

  'They could be dangerous,' Bradan indicated the closest patrol of five men. Dressed in a mixture of tartan and quilted mail, they were hard-faced and professional looking, with bows across their backs and long swords in sheaths at their hips.

  'Not so,' Melcorka said. 'They are an opportunity. Tuath, I know you can kill, but can you kill silently?'

  'Of course,' Tuath seemed surprised at the question.

  'Good; then we will lure that patrol to a quiet place and dispose of them. Bradan: you are the bait; Tuath and I will be the trap.'

  Bradan raised his eyebrows. 'I am not sure I wish to be the bait,' he said.

  'All you have to do is act scared and run when you see the patrol,' Melcorka told him. 'Tuath and I will do the rest.'

  'There will be no acting,' Bradan said. 'I am already scared.'

  Tuath spat his contempt on the ground. 'Fear is pointless,' he growled. 'You live until you die and then you join Bel in Tir-nan-Og.'

  'I have no wish to die yet,' Bradan said.

  'Then do as I say and you should live a bit longer,' Melcorka said. 'Unless things go wrong.'

  'That unless is what I am afraid of,' Bradan said, and sighed. 'All right, Melcorka, what do you wish me to do?'

  'Walk up to that patrol, act as if you have suddenly seen them, turn around and run toward us.' Melcorka glanced around. 'We will be in the space between these two cottages, hiding in the shadows. You won't see us, but we will be there. Don't let the patrol catch you.'

  Bradan grunted. 'Don't you worry about that. I will do my very best not to get caught.' He handed over his staff. 'Here: look after this for me will you?' Taking a deep breath, he walked toward the patrol, staggering slightly as if he was drunk.

  'Back here,' Melcorka led Tuath to the shadowed alley between two low cottages. The stink of a manure heap caught in the back of her throat as she eased against the wall and waited. The dark seemed very intense and she was very aware that they were surrounded by hundreds of violent, predatory and very drunk Caterans who would enjoy parting their heads from their bodies.

  Bradan came within twenty paces of the patrol, then stopped suddenly, backed off slowly and then turned and ran. It was a manoeuvre that would have aroused the suspicions of any law-keeper in the world.

  'Hey you! Stop!' the patrol leader, a bulky man in red and blue tartan shouted.

  Bradan glanced over his shoulder, put his head down and ran all the faster. The patrol leader followed, drawing his sword, with his men only yards behind him.

  'Who are you?' The patrol leader yelled. 'Stop at once!'

  One of the patrol halted, drew back his arm and launched his throwing spear. Melcorka held her breath until the spear thrummed into the door of a cottage only a hand's span from Bradan's back. Ducking his head, Bradan began to weave from side to side to put off the aim of any other spearmen. That manoeuvre may have distracted a spearman but it also slowed him down. The patrol began to gain on him, shouting, yelling and whistling. A second spear whistled through the air, landed at Bradan's feet so he stumbled over it and near fell, swore and carried on.

  'Keep going, Bradan,' Melcorka encouraged silently as the patrol were only a dozen paces behind him. She unsheathed Defender and watched him, controlling her anxiety.

  Bradan staggered up the passageway with his breathing harsh, hesitated as he did not see Melcorka and for a moment she thought he would turn away. However he kept his nerve and ran on, with the patrol only seconds behind.

  The Caterans entered the alley in a rush, still shouting. They stopped abruptly when Tuath stepped in front of them, axe raised.

  'Who the hell are you?' The leader asked, a second before Tuath killed him with a single blow of his axe. Melcorka thrust Defender through the chest of the second, twisted the blade and pulled it back out. Both men died before they were aware they had run into a trap; the third saw Tuath and swung his sword at him, yelling in a mixture of fear and anger. Tuath blocked the blow with the blade of his axe, lifted the man left-handed and broke his neck against the corner of the cottage as Melcorka hacked down the fourth. The fifth hesitated, screamed in fear and turned away; too late. Melcorka and Tuath both sliced downward. The man fell
with his head split in three.

  'That was easy enough.' Tuath said, wiping clean the blade of his axe.

  'Maybe for you,' Bradan gasped, leaning against the wall of the cottage. 'I did not find it easy at all. They threw spears at me!'

  'They missed,' Melcorka told him laconically. She did not tell him how nervous she had been when the spears thudded down. This was not the time.

  Tuath's short laugh did not help Bradan feel any better.

  'And now we have clothes such as the Caterans wear,' Melcorka said. 'A bit bloody and no doubt covered in lice and fleas, but they will suffice for a few hours while we scout out the place and look at the ships in harbour.' She tapped Tuath on the shoulder. 'You are good with that axe,' she said.

  'And you are good with that sword,' he replied. 'When I first saw you I wondered if you were merely a woman carrying a weapon for show. Now I know that you are a skilled warrior.'

  Melcorka bowed her appreciation. 'A compliment from a true fighting man is always welcome,' she said. 'Now, get the clothes off these men.'

  They dressed hurriedly, slipping the Cateran's tartan plaids over the top of their own clothes, complaining and laughing in equal measure. Bradan lifted a discarded helmet and jamming it on his head before struggling into a blood-stained padded jerkin.

  'I want all the protection I can get,' he said.

  'You look exactly like a Cateran,' Melcorka said solemnly, 'except for the staff. They carry swords, not sticks.'

  'I have had this staff for many miles,' Bradan said. 'I have long wanted a staff of rowan wood.'

  'And you will be alive to carry it for many more,' Tuath told him, 'unless the Caterans guess you are an imposter.'

  'We'll come back for it,' Melcorka said as she removed the staff from Bradan's grasp and leaned it against the wall of the cottage.

  'It might get stolen,' Bradan eyed his staff.

  'Nobody will want your bit stick,' Tuath pushed him away.

  'Now swagger, Bradan,' Melcorka said. 'Try and look as if you belong, as if you are a murdering vicious, raping, thieving Cateran.'

  Bradan smiled and put on a swaying walk in the fond belief it would make him look fierce.