The Shining One (The Swordswoman Book 2) Read online

  'What is this tasty looking dish?' She asked.

  Hector smiled. 'It is not something you would find much on the mainland,' he said. 'That is seal meat, an island speciality.'

  Melcorka tasted a little piece. 'Not bad,' she said. 'A little fishy but not bad. How do you hunt them?'

  'We visit their breeding grounds in June when the cubs are weaned and club them to death.' Hector took a mouthful of seal meat, biting into it with his large and obviously sharp front teeth. 'If you kill the young ones first, the mothers wait by the bodies and are easier to kill.' He seemed to find the whole procedure amusing.

  'I see,' Melcorka suddenly lost her appetite for seal meat. Hunting was normal; it was a major source of food for many people, but the idea of clubbing infant seals was not pleasant.

  'I enjoy a good seal hunt,' Hector managed to confirm Melcorka's renewed dislike of him with that statement. 'We also catch them in nets. They struggle quite hard before we kill them.'

  Melcorka pushed the plate aside; Alva plucked a piece of seal-meat and chewed happily.

  Hector laughed. 'So you are a squeamish woman who carries a large sword? You attract me more with each passing moment.'

  'I am not here to be attractive,' Melcorka said. 'Bradan and I are on a quest.'

  'A what?' Tuath was also chewing on seal meat.

  'The lady is on a quest.' Conall explained smoothly, 'that means that she is searching for something, or someone, Tuath.'

  Tuath frowned; his right hand closed on the haft of his axe. 'I knew what the word means,' he growled, with his black beard jutting forward.

  'Then perhaps you can help us, Tuath,' Bradan tried to patch up the obvious tension between the two. 'I am searching for memories of a druid named Abaris who may have lived in these parts. He was said to live in or work in a winged temple.'

  The Steward gave a high pitched laugh. 'You're asking the wrong man. Tuath won't know what a druid was yet alone where he may have had a temple.'

  Tuath's knuckles gleamed white around the haft of his axe and for a second Melcorka thought there might be quick murder in that echoing stone chamber.

  'I have always found that warriors know a great deal,' Bradan said softly. 'They are more reticent about sharing their knowledge than Stewards, and more to be trusted when they do speak.'

  Melcorka saw Conall stiffen, while Tuath gave Bradan a nod of appreciation. She knew that Bradan had made an enemy and a friend with the one statement, and wondered which one was the more powerful in Hector's household.

  'I know where there are temples,' Tuath said slowly, obviously thinking before he spoke. 'You might not be welcome in some of the places. The lady Melcorka may need to use her sword.' He nodded to Melcorka in case the others present could not work out who she may be.

  'Where are these temples?' Bradan asked.

  'There is one on the Seven Hunters; that's a group of islands far to the west; there is another on Rona, the island of seals, and yet another, the largest and most impressive of the lot, high up on Lewis, amidst the bare moorland on the north. That is where the lady's sword may be useful, or it might not be any use at all.'

  'And why is that?' Melcorka touched the hilt of Defender.

  'A sword is useful against natural foes, as is an axe. There are strange stories of creatures that guard the approaches to that temple and what lives inside is not of this world.' Tuath made the sign of the cross, and then, to make sure, made a circle with his finger and thumb, the ancient sign of Bel, the sun god.

  'Three temples that are worth exploring,' Bradan said. 'I thank you, Tuath of the Axe. We shall visit all three, and hope not to meet anything unfriendly, either from this world or any other.'

  The Steward gave a thin laugh. 'There is nothing from any other world,' he said. 'These tales are for children, old women and fools. There is only us and nothing else.'

  Melcorka remembered her encounters with the People of Peace and said nothing, while Bradan tapped his staff on the floor and looked away. 'What do you say, Hector? Could you tell us of these temples and their dangers?'

  Hector looked suddenly serious. 'I know that there are more things than Caterans on the prowl,' he said, 'and I know the temples that Tuath speaks of. The Seven Hunters are uncanny isles; you must obey certain rituals if you venture there. Beyond these islands there is only the great western ocean and beyond that is Tir-nan-og, the land of youth to which all heroes go after death – or perhaps there is nothing at all.'

  'I would like to try that western ocean someday,' Bradan said. 'I have heard of strange things washed up on the shores of our islands. They must come from somewhere. But first I seek Abaris, and the wisdom he had.'

  'Rona is a land of seals; the temple there is little more than a shelter.' Hector said. 'I have seen it with my own eyes when I went hunting.' He smiled and sucked at his teeth. 'There are many seals to kill there.'

  Melcorka thought of the seal pups and hid her anger.

  'And the other one you mentioned? The temple in the moors of Lewis?' Bradan leaned forward on his seat.

  The tension within the curved stone chamber was palpable. Melcorka looked from face to face. Bradan was eager to learn, his eyes animated, his mouth slightly parted. The Steward leaned back in his chair with a cynical sneer on his face and his fingers tapping on the table while Tuath held his axe as if his life, or his soul, depended on it.

  'We call it Callanish,' Hector spoke quietly as he chewed on another piece of seal-meat. 'It is not like the others. In fact it is not like any temple you have seen in your life or are ever likely to see again. There are tales of men…' he looked at Melcorka and away again, 'and women, visiting Callanish and disappearing. What is there I do not know.'

  'What lives there is not from our world,' Tuath said.

  'It is the Shining One,' Hector said and as he spoke there was a flash of lightning that blinded them all as it entered the room by one window and exited by the other, leaving a black scorch mark on the table and the plate of seal meat smouldering and black.

  'I was enjoying that,' Alva had not flinched when the lightning had entered the room. Now she plucked at a herring and began to eat.

  When Melcorka stood, she saw Tuath cowering against the wall and Conall staring at Bradan.

  'You have brought evil into this house.' The finger the Steward pointed was decorated with a finger ring of deer's antler with a blue amethyst in the centre. 'You are ill-omened, Bradan the Wanderer!' He lifted his hand and joined his forefinger and thumb in a circle. 'You brought the anger of the storm god but Bel will seek you out!'

  Melcorka tried to meet Bradan's eye but he was staring at Conall with his mouth open. His right hand opened and his staff clattered to the stone-flagged floor. Alva chewed on her herring, the only person in the room who was unconcerned.

  Chapter Six

  The scraping at the door wakened Melcorka. She lay still for a moment, trying to work out what had made the sound was and where she was. The air was damp and chill, the ground hard beneath her hip and she was surrounded by stone. The scraping continued, louder.

  Rolling over, Melcorka looked around. She and Alva were alone in the small chamber within the walls of the broch, with their few possessions rolled up on the ground and Defender in her scabbard, leaning against the wall. Minimal grey light seeped through the small square window.

  'Who's there?' She stood behind the heavy door, a hand's breadth from Defender.

  The door opened slowly and Conall stepped in, smiling. 'You know that I have taken a liking to you,' he said.

  'I did not know that,' Melcorka glanced at Alva, who lay curled up like a cat, breathing regularly.

  Conall's eyes were busy, examining Melcorka's body from neck to knees and back. Dressed in a light linen leine, Melcorka was aware she was adequately covered if hardly hidden; she felt an unusual twist of discomfort. There was something about Conall that made her skin crawl.

  Conall shut the door and stood with his back to it. 'I made sure you had the
most comfortable room and some privacy.' A smile snaked across his face. 'Your friend Bradan is sharing the guard barracks with a score of hairy warriors.'

  'Bradan will be all right,' Melcorka said cautiously.

  'He is on the ground level,' Conall said, 'three levels below us and on the opposite side of the broch.'

  Melcorka nodded. She had guessed that the steward made the sleeping arrangements to keep her and Bradan as far apart as possible.

  'Are you quite comfortable here?' Conall asked. He glanced at Alva, frowned but said nothing.

  Melcorka nodded. 'I am,' she kept close to Defender in case Conall hoped to be more than merely friendly.

  'Good,' Conall nodded, with his eyes continually sliding up the length of her body. 'Hector was insistent that his honoured guest had the best quarters.'

  'Pray tell Hector that I am very grateful to him,' Melcorka said.

  'He had four people removed from this chamber for you.'

  'That was very kind of him,' Melcorka said, 'but there was really no need. I am quite used to living in more modest surroundings.'

  'You can thank him yourself,' Conall said. 'For here he comes now.'

  Hector thrust Conall aside with barely a look and entered the chamber. Dressed in a leine that was belted at the waist and a pair of fine sealskin brogues, he looked relaxed and confident. 'Melcorka; you are a strong, fine woman, just the sort I like.'

  'Thank you, Hector,' Melcorka gave a small bow. 'I am honoured.'

  'I hope to honour you some more,' Hector replied to her bow. 'There are many women who would be delighted to have me honour them in my chamber…' his protruding teeth only slightly disfigured his smile.

  'I am sure there are,' Melcorka said. 'And that is not surprising, with such a handsome and powerful man as yourself.'

  Hector's smile broadened. 'Will you join me?' He extended his arm for Melcorka to hold.

  'I cannot,' she shook her head slowly. 'I have a man and I am bound to be faithful to him.'

  'Oh,' Hector's smile fell; he looked genuinely disappointed. 'I shall not ask you to break an oath.'

  Melcorka did not say she had taken no oath. She allowed Hector to think as he wished.

  Reaching forward, Hector touched Melcorka's hair. 'It is a great pity,' he said, 'for I am sure you and I could do great things together.'

  Melcorka pulled slightly away. 'I am sure we could.'

  Hector nodded. 'One day, Melcorka, we shall do these things; when you are not bound by oath.'

  'That day will be a long time in coming,' Melcorka said.

  'Maybe not as long as you think.' Hector said. 'Come, Conall; we are not wanted in our lady's chamber.'

  As soon as both men left, Melcorka pushed the door closed.

  'I'm glad they've gone,' Alva said sleepily, sitting up. 'I don't like them much. That Conall scares me.'

  'You go back to sleep, little one,' Melcorka said. 'Don't you worry about Conall. He won't hurt you as long as I am here.'

  'He doesn't want to hurt me,' Alva said. 'He wants to kill Bradan and bed you.'

  'Hush now,' Melcorka pushed her back into her cocoon of blankets. 'You are too young to talk about such things.'

  Alva settled back down. 'You should kill Conall now,' she said. 'That's what father would have done.'

  'Go to sleep, little one.' Melcorka determined to find out more about Alva's father as soon as she could.

  Chapter Seven

  The tall, gaunt-faced woman stood in the centre of a circle of her peers, vigorously rubbing two sticks together. Holding Alva's hand and with Bradan at her side, Melcorka watched as the friction generated by the rubbing caused one of the sticks to smoulder. The circle of women gave a small sound of appreciation when the stick-holder quickly placed the smouldering stick into a small pile of wood shavings and blew gently. Smoke rose in a thin spiral, and then a flicker of flame rose, died and revived to become a steady glow.

  'What are these women doing?' Alva asked.

  'They are making a need-fire,' Bradan explained.

  'If they need a fire, then why don't they take one from one of the houses?' Alva asked.

  'A need-fire is a sacred fire,' Bradan was more patient than Melcorka would have been. 'It has to be lit a certain way.'

  'Why?' Alva asked, quite sensibly, Melcorka thought.

  'These women believe that the gods they worship would like that,' Bradan said.

  'Oh,' Alva said. 'Why?'

  'They just do,' Bradan said. 'Now keep quiet and watch.'

  As the flames increased the women added more wood to the fire until it was quite a substantial blaze. The women edged closer, all making a circle with the thumb and forefinger of their right hand.

  'The sign of the sun,' Bradan explained. 'In tribute to their god Bel.'

  'Now what are they doing?' Alva asked as the women, still in their circle, all turned to face east. A band of light spread across the sea; a harbinger of dawn.

  'I do not know what they are doing,' Melcorka said. 'I have never seen such a thing before.'

  'Nor have I,' Bradan said, 'although I have heard of it.'

  The women stared eastward until dawn sent a pale streak across the sky and then the first sliver of sun appeared above the line of the sea. The tall woman who had started the fire took off her head-covering and gave a low curtsey, with all the others following suit, so the entire circle of women were curtsying to the rising sun.

  They began to chant:

  'When I see the sun

  It becomes me to life mine eye

  It becomes me to bend my knee

  It becomes me to bow my head'

  'What are these silly women doing?' Alva's piping voice broke the chant.

  'Sshh, Alva,' Bradan said. 'It is sun worship; they are worshipping the sun.'

  At the sound of Alva's voice, the women flicked round, and then one by one they lifted their hands with the thumb and forefingers still making the sign of the sun as they stared at the three strangers.

  'God bless the work,' Melcorka called cheerfully and guided Alva away with a strong hand on her back. Not trusting the women, she walked backward, with her gaze never leaving the women.

  'This is a place I will be glad to say farewell to,' Bradan said as he bowed to the women and followed Melcorka.

  'I like this island,' Alva said loudly. 'Except for that Conall.'

  'You will be better behaved if you kept your tongue still,' Melcorka scolded, and ruffled Alva's hair to show there was no ill-feeling. 'Come along and we'll have a look at this island while we are here.' Alva shifted away and patted her hair back into place.

  'I like my hair the way it was,' Alva said.

  Melcorka knew she was the focus for all eyes as she and Bradan walked around the island with Alva safely between them. She returned the stares of the women, noting that some wore shoes made from the necks of gannets with the soft feathers decorating the shins in a close caress. Others wore necklaces of red coral or red rowan berries, while a few had a twist of scarlet thread wound around the middle finger of their left hands.

  'Red is the magic colour,' Bradan explained. 'They are warding off evil. Those with rowan berries are doubly protected, as even the People of Peace are wary of the power of rowan.'

  'This is a strange place,' Melcorka said. 'It is an island of fear. Even the warriors look afraid.'

  Bradan nodded agreement as a patrol marched past them, the men carrying short throwing spears tipped with whalebone points and bows with whalebone arrows. They wore the double-coloured tartan of ordinary men with only the plaid of their commander having the four colours of a noble. Above the plaids they wore sealskin waistcoats, the first time Melcorka had ever seen such a thing, while their brogues were also of sealskin.

  'They are of the sea,' Melcorka said, 'yet they are afraid of it. They walk a hundred paces from the foreshore and their eyes are never still.'

  'They are not like the Hebrideans I know,' Bradan said.

  'They are wearing dead
fish,' Alva spoke loudly until Bradan placed a finger against her lips.

  'Keep quiet little one,' he said, 'lest you disturb these men.'

  Leaving the small settlement that cowered around the harbour, they walked around the coast, where Hector had set up watch towers on every rise and headland. Moving heads showed where nervous men peered out to sea. Only small fishing boats specked the water, with none more than two hundred paces from the shore and each with a man constantly on watch, spear or bow at the ready.

  'This is an island under siege,' Bradan said, 'yet not by Caterans. It is an island besieged by its own fear.'

  'Wait!' Melcorka held up her hand. 'There is laughter ahead, inland a little beyond that little rise: somebody has forgotten to be afraid!' She smiled as Bradan tapped his staff on the ground.

  'It must be a stranger,' he said and hurried on to see who was breaking the melancholic silence.

  The interior of the island was a mixture of low hills and small lochans, with individual crofts and tight clachans of cottages scattered amongst the most fertile ground. A great rock, carved into a circle and painted yellow, overlooked one loch, itself a perfect circle. A dozen young boys were playing in the water, laughing as they swam or splashed or ducked each other.

  'At least the children here are normal,' Melcorka said.

  'That is good to see,' Bradan agreed.

  Alva tugged at his sleeve. 'May I join all these boys playing?' she asked.

  About to say yes, Melcorka put a hand on Alva's head as the women who had formed the circle hurried toward the lochan.

  'Stop!' The woman who had started the need-fire shouted. 'Stop that noise! You will encourage the water bull to come up.'

  Either the boys were too intent on their games to hear, or they chose to ignore the woman, for they continued to play, shouting happily.