Falcon Warrior (The Swordswoman Book 3) Page 21

  Without Egil to guide her, Frakkok was less sure. Her next kick was undirected. It bounced off Melcorka's hip without doing any damage.

  'Is that it?' Melcorka forced a laugh, tasting blood in her mouth. Rolling over, she pushed herself upright. Frakkok closed and her kick missed completely. Taking hold of Frakkok's foot, Melcorka lifted it high and pushed backward, unbalancing the older woman so she fell on her back with a resounding thump. The audience roared with glee.

  Melcorka realised that they did not hate her; they did not particularly wish to see her die; they wanted to see a fight and it did not matter whose blood was spilled, as long as there was blood. They would ridicule the loser whoever she was and cheer whoever won the contest.

  Encouraged, Melcorka stepped forward once more.

  'Remember what Defender cannot do!' Bearnas shouted as she grappled with Egil.

  Defender could not kill in revenge. Defender could only kill if the holder's life was in danger. Melcorka grasped Bearnas's strategy.

  Stepping up to Frakkok, she slapped her again. 'I am not going to kill you.' She said. 'Instead, I am going to make you look a fool in front of all these men!'

  Using her superior speed, she avoided Frakkok's clumsy rush and kicked her hard on the backside as she staggered past. 'Oops! That was so large a target I could not miss!' She forced a laugh and gave a genuine smile when the audience joined in. Frakkok roared in anger and swung a wild punch that missed by a good six inches. Melcorka did not have to dodge. She slapped again. 'Your face is getting quite red now, Frakkok. When you wish to surrender just let me know. This must be exhausting for an old woman like you!'

  'You'll see how old I am!' Frakkok shouted and drew Defender. The great blade, forged by the People of Peace, owned by Calgacus and Arthur, glittered in the rush light. The watchers roared their approval as Frakkok lifted it high. 'You'll die by your own sword, Melcorka!'

  For one moment Melcorka saw the struggle between Bearnas and Egil cease as both turned to watch. Defender's blade poised and swung down as Frakkok put every inch of her strength into the blow. Melcorka saw a smile flick across Egil's face, and a slight shadow of doubt cross the face of Bearnas.

  'It's all right, Mother.' Melcorka stood erect, not deigning to flinch or plead for mercy; if the blade was true to her maker, then she was safe. If it was her time, then it would kill her.

  'Die!' Egil shouted.

  Bearnas instinctively reached out a hand to protect her daughter.

  The blade swept downward, aimed at the top of Melcorka's head. Given full force, the blow should have cut her in half. Instead, the blade stopped of its own violation, with the sudden shock jarring Frakkok's arms. She yelled with the pain, dropped the sword and crouched, holding her hands under each armpit. Defender landed on the stone slabs with a metallic clatter that echoed around the chamber.

  'Mine I believe,' Melcorka said and lifted her sword.

  Egil's mouth opened in a scream of frustration as Hel extended a mighty arm and hauled him back into her domain. There was a distinct reek of smoke, an instant of darkness so intense that all light was expunged and then normality returned. Bearnas adjusted her mail coat, patted her hair in place and shook an admonitory finger at Melcorka. 'Next time,' she said, 'don't forget you are more than just a sword. You are Melcorka of the Cenel Bearnas.' She leaned closer. 'You are my daughter!'

  And then she was also gone and Melcorka stood in that chamber, alone except for her enemies and with Defender in her hand.

  The surge of power and strength was as familiar as it was welcome. She lifted her sword, exulting.

  'I am Melcorka the Swordswoman!' She lifted her voice in a yell. 'Melcorka of the Cenel Bearnas: Melcorka of Alba!'

  'Kill that woman!' Wamblee ordered. 'Kill her!'

  Arne was first to try. Drawing his sword he ran forward, roaring. Melcorka decapitated him with a single sweep of Defender. She barely felt the impact. Arne's head spun in the air for a long three seconds before falling to the floor with a hollow thump.

  'Who is next?' Melcorka knew she sounded calm. She spun Defender one handed, glorying in her skill, knowing she was a match for any man or any two men in that room. She did not hear Frakkok approach until the hand grabbed her by the throat and the knife stabbed into the hand that held Defender.

  The sudden shock almost made her drop the sword. Melcorka looked round to see Frakkok lunge at her throat with the small blade. Instinctively she slid to one side and swung Defender. The blade took Frakkok across the face, slicing off the top of her head. The Pict stood for a second with a look of mixed surprise and hatred on her face, and then crumpled to the ground in a puddle of her own blood and brains.

  There was a collective gasp from the Norsemen as their leader was killed. Melcorka stepped back, grasping Defender with both hands in anticipation of a concerted attack by Erik and his companions. Instead, Erik said:

  'Oh, thank Odin she is dead.' He looked up. 'Free at last! I am free at last!'

  Melcorka narrowed her eyes, expecting some trick as Erik stepped over the dead body of his mother. There were tears in his eyes as he looked down on Frakkok. 'All my life,' he said. 'All my life you have tormented me, bullied me, insulted me, ridiculed me in front of others and told me that I was not the man my father was. Now I am free.' He looked up to Melcorka. 'Thank you, Melcorka; I cannot thank you enough.'

  'Kill her!' Wamblee screamed. 'Kill that woman!' He pushed the nearest of his bodyguards forward. 'Kill her now! You Northmen: she killed your leader: kill her!'

  'Kill her yourself,' Erik said. 'If you can.'

  'I thought you had joined the Dhegians.' Although Melcorka spoke in a conversational tone, she was ready to fight. Her hands, sticky with blood, gripped Defender and she ensured she had sufficient room to swing her.

  'Mother did that. We…' Erik looked to his men. 'We had no choice.'

  'That old hag was a witch indeed,' Melcorka said cheerfully. 'She was a woman who manipulated solely for her own benefit. You are well rid of her.'

  The first bodyguard pushed Knut aside and swung his great club at Melcorka. She parried with Defender, feeling her blade cut deep through the handle of the club and withdrew quickly, stepping back. The bodyguard swung again, just as his companion charged at her side.

  'Two men attacking one weak woman!' Melcorka said. 'How honourable you both are.' Ducking the swing of the second club, she crouched low, stretched out her arms and swept Defender in a wide circle. The blade cut cleanly through the right leg of the bodyguard on her right and the left leg of the bodyguard on her left. Both fell at once, staring at their foreshortened legs. Leaping over their bleeding bodies, Melcorka ran at Wamblee. 'Fight me, Wamblee.'

  Rather than meet her challenge, Wamblee backed away. Melcorka did not see the lever he pulled, but a hole appeared in the wall and Wamblee disappeared inside; the wall closed again before Melcorka reached it. She clattered Defender harmlessly against the stone.

  'He's gone,' she said. The Norsemen were happily disposing of the two dying bodyguards. 'Now you men have a choice; you man join me and help remove the last of Wamblee's supporters, or you can fight me and die.'

  'We're with you, Melcorka,' Erik said at once.

  'Come on then;' Melcorka did not relinquish her caution. 'Get me out of this place and into the open air.'

  Eric led the way with Melcorka at her heels and the remaining Norse at her back in a yelling force suddenly determined to prove their loyalty to the anti-Wamblee coalition. The bottom door was still shut, with a huge bar across it. Without waiting, Melcorka raised Defender and sliced clean through the wood. Erik kicked the broken pieces aside and they rushed outside, to find a scene of utter carnage.

  'Dear God,' Melcorka said. 'Where are my tribesmen?'

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It seemed that the rising had failed. Everywhere she looked, the allied tribes had been beaten back and were fighting a desperate rearguard action, or had been captured and now sat in sullen groups under t
he spears of the Citadel or Wall Guard. The Dhegian warriors were in the ascendancy, shouting in triumph. She could not see Chaytan or Chumani. Exactly how long had she been in the palace? Melcorka glanced at the sky; a glorious dawn was spreading red across the eastern horizon. She had been a few hours and in that time her rebellion had clearly failed.

  Donning the head-band of Eyota, Melcorka raised a shout. 'I am Eyota! Follow me!'

  With Defender in her hand and the Norse at her back, she led a mad charge into the closest band of Dhegian warriors. Ordinary soldiers, they fought as best they could but Defender sliced through their clubs and the hafts of their spears and the Norsemen hacked them down without compulsion or mercy.

  A huddle of Huron prisoners looked up with hope slowly dawning as Melcorka led the Norse in a sword-hewing attack on their captors.

  'I am back!' Melcorka was unsure if she meant she was back as Melcorka the Swordswoman or as Eyota. She did not care; either would do just as long as she brought victory to the beleaguered tribes.

  Rising, the Huron joined them, grappling the Dhegian warriors bare-handed as Melcorka and the Norse rammed into them from the front. It was a massacre rather than a battle and then the Huron lifted the Dhegian weapons and joined Melcorka's force.

  'What happened?' Melcorka asked the Huron. 'The attack was going well.'

  The Huron looked confused. 'The Guards pushed us back,' they said.

  'Where are the Guards now?' Melcorka asked.

  'At the main gate,' the Huron replied. 'Killing the last of us.'

  'Let's kill them instead,' Melcorka said. She led them toward the sound of combat, feeling Eyota's head-band tight on her forehead, hearing the solid thump of the Norse feet on the ground contrasting with the patter of the Hurons'.

  Formed in three lines, the Guards were pushing the remnants of the allied tribes out of the Citadel. They worked in unison with shields as a continual line and spears thrusting and returning as regularly as oarsmen in a Norse dragon-ship.

  'There is your enemy,' Melcorka said. 'Take the centre and break it, and then fan right and left and roll up the line.'

  They hit the Guards from the rear with Melcorka decapitating the first two Citadel Guards and Erik close at her back. As the Guards tried to close on them, the Norse swung to the right and the Hurons to the left, with the leading warriors of the allied tribes charging forward to help.

  The Guards fought. They reformed as best they could, with their clubs and spears continuing to take their toll of the attackers. Melcorka and Defender crashed into their lines, again and again, slicing, thrusting and cutting until the last vestige of Dhegian resistance crumbled. When they finally broke the allied tribes swarmed right over them.

  'I thought you were dead.' Bleeding from half a dozen wounds, Chaytan leaned on his club. 'I saw you reach the top of the palace and disappear.'

  Melcorka cleaned the blade of Defender. 'I survived.' She did not go into details. 'Both bodyguards are dead, as well as Frakkok. The Norse are on our side now.'

  'I could not get into the palace to help you.' Chaytan said.

  'You kept the armies occupied outside. If the Citadel Guards had joined…' Melcorka shrugged. 'I don't know what would have happened. Wamblee escaped. He opened the wall and got away.'

  Chaytan nodded, gasping and wounded, he retained his massive presence. 'He has lost everything; his bodyguard, his Guards, many of his tribesmen and his prestige.'

  'Eyota,' Chumani said. 'How long are you going to stay with us?'

  'I have not thought about it,' Melcorka said honestly. She looked at the carnage. 'This place needs to be cleaned up.'

  'You have saved us from the tyrant,' Chumani said. 'Are you going back to the spirit world now?'

  That question startled Melcorka. She had not thought what to do once Wamblee had been defeated. When she arrived she had been with Bradan and a vague idea of helping remove Wamblee. She had not looked beyond that, expecting only that she and Bradan would continue to travel in some way. Now she did not know. Bradan was alive, somewhere, that she knew. She must find him.

  'I came here with a man,' she said. 'I would like to look for him.'

  'Is he in the spirit world?' Chumani asked.

  'No. He is in this world.'

  'Then I will pass the word,' Chaytan said. 'Until we find him, are you staying with us? We need your guidance.'

  Melcorka considered. 'I will stay until we find Bradan.'

  After that? Melcorka shook her head. She could not see anything after that. She felt utterly weary.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It took three days to dispose of the dead bodies that littered the citadel and the city. There were also hundreds of Dhegian prisoners to care for.

  'Eyota,' Chumani said. 'How shall we deal with the Dhegians? Shall we kill them all?'

  Melcorka shook her head. 'No; if you do that, you will be as bad as Wamblee. You must gather them together and make them swear on their ancestors that they will not cause more trouble. Then you set them free.'

  'It shall be as you wish, Eyota.'

  There were other decisions to make; what to do with the palisade wall around the citadel.

  'Remove it,' Melcorka said at once. 'Nobody should be separate from anybody else. The rulers should not have to be protected from the ruled; all should be together for the good of the community.'

  'It shall be as you wish, Eyota,' Chumani said.

  What to do with the slaves was next. Men and women without tribal leaders, they wandered around the city, sleeping where they could, stealing whatever food they could not beg, they were becoming a social menace.

  'Divide them into their original tribes,' Melcorka said. 'Find out if a near relation to the original tribal chief exists. If he does, then appoint him as the new chief and he can take them back to their original tribal area. If they cannot find a leader, then each individual will be free to choose to which tribe they wish to belong. This influx of people will help repair the losses of the war with Wamblee.'

  'It shall be as you say, Eyota,' Chumani said.

  There was the mess from the battle to repair.

  'Select fifty men from each tribe,' Melcorka said. 'They shall work in competition against each other to do the most in setting the city and citadel to right. There shall be no animosity and no dislike, only healthy competition.'

  'It shall be as you say, Eyota,' Chumani said.

  There were the inevitable family and tribal disputes to settle. In the past, the priests of the city had arbitrated, but they had fled along with Wamblee. Now there was no neutral judge to decide on cases so within a few days there were arguments and some interfamily and intertribal clashes.

  'You must do something about this situation, Eyota,' Chumani said. 'If the tribes fall into serious disagreement there may be open warfare between them.'

  'I will judge the urgent cases myself,' Melcorka said, 'to ensure there is peace in the city.'

  'It shall be as you say, Eyota,' Chumani said.

  For the next few days, Melcorka found herself inundated with disputes old and new. There were cases that men and women had refused to take to the priests from many years ago, and some that had arisen much more recently. She set up her court within the palace, to find it crowded day after day, with queues of people gathering outside. Some were petitioners, others the accused and many were merely there to watch proceedings.

  There was a case where two families disputed the ownership of a piece of land.

  'Our people have farmed this land for three generations,' one man said.

  'Then you married into our family and brought no dowry,' said the other.

  Melcorka frowned. 'So your families are joined by marriage?'

  'Yes, Eyota,' the first man said.

  'In that case, there is no dispute. You are now one family and all your lands are owned by all.'

  'It shall be as you say, Eyota,' both men agreed.

  There was a case where a young woman had been taken by the Cita
del Guard and now was returned to her family.

  'What is the problem?' Melcorka asked.

  'She is defiled,' the mother of the woman said.

  'Was it her fault that she was defiled?' Melcorka asked, already knowing the answer.

  'It was not her fault,' the mother said.

  'Then no blame attaches to her and you shall welcome her back into her own family, where she belongs.' Melcorka raised her voice so it carried around the crowded justice chamber and beyond. 'Henceforth in this city, nobody shall be blamed or punished for actions that were not their fault. No woman shall be blamed if she is violated against her will.'

  Some of the faces looked doubtful. For the first time, Melcorka adopted an imperious tone. 'That is my will and my command. Does anybody wish to dispute it with me?'

  Immediately she gave her decision, the complaining ended.

  'Very well; let that be the law. And I do not want to hear about any secret attacks on such women. If any of these women who were abducted and abused against their will are harmed in any way, I will not be lenient to their attackers!'

  Melcorka stood to announce that, feeling all the power of Eyota flow through her and out of her eyes. Clearly, this was a matter about which Eyota felt strongly.

  One woman began to cry; her mother held her. Another mouthed her thanks as her father led her away. Melcorka nodded; if she had done nothing else here, that alone was worth her time as law-maker in this city.

  'In future,' Melcorka said, 'I shall not be the sole justice of this city. I wish each tribe to appoint a respected elder to a council of elders. These people, be they men or women, will meet in this chamber as from tomorrow, and they will decide on each case, using their collected wisdom. If they fail to come to a decision, then they may bring the case to me.'

  'It shall be as you say, Eyota,' the men and women murmured.

  By the end of the third week after the battle, Melcorka was growing into her new role. She lived in the palace in a set of rooms in which she had windows made to overlook the city. She had the largest bed she had ever seen in her life, with fresh water in which to wash and a whole wardrobe of clothes presented to her by admiring women. Every morning she would waken to fresh food and smiling people.