Falcon Warrior

Chapter One-2

'If you have a little patience, the ice will melt itself,' Bradan said.

'I've had enough of being patient.' Melcorka prised free a chunk of ice and forced a crack that extended across the face of the frozen woman. 'Stand back.' She levered the ice away and kicked the shattered remnants into the sea.

The woman fell into Melcorka's arms. Stiff and cold, she stared into nothing through almond-shaped eyes that still retained that aura of power and knowledge. Even although she was long dead, it was evident that at one time she had been an important personage.

'Who are you?' Melcorka bent to search the woman. She had a small leather pouch on a belt around her waist, which Melcorka lifted and emptied on to her rowing bench. A handful of copper trinkets clattered onto the wood, each one in the shape of a falcon with extended wings and a sharp-pointed beak. 'I am taking these,' she said. 'I don't like robbing the dead, but these might help identify you if we ever come across your family.'

'Take that circlet from her head as well,' Bradan said. 'It may help.' He viewed the corpse. 'She looks as if she was important.'

'I thought that as well.' Melcorka could not escape the power of those almond-shaped eyes.

'I wonder if she was some sort of ice-princess?' Bradan frowned. 'She must not have felt the cold at all.'

'She must have been a very hardy woman,' Melcorka said. 'I wonder how long she has been trapped in this ice mountain for?'

'We have no way of knowing,' Bradan said. 'It could have been weeks, or even months.'

'Somebody will be waiting for her to come home,' Melcorka said. 'Should we carry her in Catriona?'

'Carry her where? And for how long?' Bradan asked. 'She will smell once she thaws. We'll bury her at sea.'

'That might be best,' Melcorka agreed. 'Do you know the proper words to say?'

'I will say what I think is best,' Bradan said. 'I'm sure she won't mind what the words are.'

The woman was small in height and stocky in stature. They wrapped her in her simple tunic and then in a swathe of sailcloth, weighed at the feet with a couple of heavy boulders from their ballast.

'Goodbye, ice woman,' Melcorka said quietly. 'May you find peace.'

'May our God and your God protect you on your journey to the next world,' Bradan said, as they watched the body sink into the water. There was barely a swirl, with an escaped strand of dark hair the last thing they saw.

'We will never know who she was or where she was from.' Melcorka secreted the headband and the small bag of small copper falcons inside her cloak. 'Now, we will wait until the ice melts and then continue our journey to nothingness. Unless you have decided that you've seen enough of the ocean?'

'We're not going back. There is too much of the world to explore.' Bradan's smile lightened the mood. 'That is the end of that small adventure.'

The sudden wind ruffled Melcorka's hair and raised goose-pimples along her back. It died as soon as it had begun, leaving her slightly unsettled, although she could not say why. She shrugged, looking to the sea where the corpse had sunk. Somehow, she doubted if that small adventure had indeed finished.

'Come on, Bradan,' she said. 'Sing something cheerful to me. Sing a song of the sea or a bawdy drinking song from Fidach of the Picts.'

'I can't sing,' Bradan said. 'I've no voice at all.'

'Oh, come on. You know how much I love music.'

'You asked for it,' Bradan said and began a loud Pictish song. The ancient words swept across the waves of the cold northern sea as Melcorka thought of that mysterious woman, so lonely in her ice mountain. Yet to Melcorka, she was not quite dead; something of the expression of her eyes lingered even as the ice mountain drifted southward in the current and somewhere close by, a whale called mournfully.

They settled down in Catriona, watching the dull grey seas rising and falling beneath the light grey sky. Twice they ate and twice they slept without the sky darkening, for in these northern latitudes there was neither night nor day at that time of year. And still, the water wept from the great mountain of ice, shrinking it hour by hour.

'I wonder which will happen first,' Melcorka said. 'Will the ice mountain melt or will they reach us?' She nodded toward the flotilla of sails that thrust from the southern horizon.

'Ships.' Bradan had not noticed them.

'I wonder who they could be, so far away from the world?' Melcorka said.

'Or so far away from our world,' Bradan said. 'They might be close to their own. Like the woman we buried at sea.'

'They are Norsemen.' Melcorka said flatly. 'They have the striped sails and the bearing of those savages. Five ships full of Norsemen.' She glanced toward Defender. 'What are they doing out here? There are no priests for them to plunder, no women to rape, no farmers to murder and nobody to take for slaves.'

'We'll soon find out why they're here,' Bradan said. 'They're altering course toward us.'

The square, striped sails became more distinct as they came closer and then the ships' hulls gradually rose over the horizon. Melcorka watched as they came closer; watched the familiar dragon figureheads grow more distinct, with their staring eyes and gaping jaws.

'The first time I saw a dragon ship close up,' she said quietly, 'I was in the Firth of Forth. We were crossing in a fleet of small fishing boats and coracles. I was separated from the rest and Egil was the master.' She closed her fist around the hilt of Defender. 'He slaughtered all my family that day.'

'Egil is dead now,' Bradan reminded her gently. 'These ships are not his. You cannot hate all Norsemen because of the actions of one man.'

'I do not hate all Norsemen.' Melcorka's knuckles whitened on the hilt of Defender. 'I am just telling you what happened.'

The leading dragon ship was much closer now, so Melcorka could see the sun glinting on the iron bosses of the round shields that lined the gunwales, and the serried spears waiting around the single pine mast. She saw the steersman in the stern with his long blonde hair waving gently, and the crew crowding to stare at this incredible mountain of ice carrying a strange vessel in the middle of the ocean. There were pointing fingers and men buckling on swords, a brace of archers fitting arrows to their bows and a handsome, stern-faced woman standing on a raised platform in the stern, with a tall and younger man at her side.

'This is no raiding fleet,' Bradan said. 'Look at the second ship.'

'Horses,' Melcorka said. 'They give the Norsemen greater mobility.'

'Not only horses. There are also cattle – listen.'

A slant of wind brought the sounds to Melcorka; the lowing of cattle, neighing of horses and, high above, the high-pitched crowing of a cockerel.

'Perhaps these Norse are returning from a raid.' Melcorka defended her corner.

'Have you ever known a Norse war party to bring home cattle and poultry?' Bradan shook his head. 'I have not. These are settlers, not warriors. They are heading somewhere to make a new life.'

'We'll soon find out,' Melcorka said, 'but I won't trust them until I have more proof that they are settlers – and even then I won't trust them.' She adjusted her sword belt so that Defender was within easy reach.

'Take it calmly, Mel, take it calmly. They might be peaceful.'

Melcorka grunted. 'They are Norsemen. They don't know the meaning of the word peace.' She glared across the water as if the intensity of her gaze could sink the entire Norse fleet.

The ships came closer, with the sails furling and the oars lifting as they glided alongside.

'Who are you?' the tall young gallant in the first ship called out cheerfully. 'I see you have found a nice iceberg to take along with you.'

'We are Melcorka of Alba and Bradan the Wanderer,' Bradan shouted across the gap between the ships. 'The ice mountain – berg, as you call it – found us, rather than us finding it. Who are you?'

'I am Erik Farseeker, and this is my mother, the lady Frakkok.' He indicated the handsome woman. 'And these are our followers.'

'Well met, Erik Farseeker, and the lady Frakkok!' Bradan shouted. 'You are far from home, Norseman. Your mother, I believe, has a name from the Picts?'

'I am of the province of Cet, once Pictish and now part of the Norse Jarldom of Orkney.' Frakkok's voice was strong and as clear as the eyes that surveyed Catriona and all on board her. 'Do you know my people?'

'We know Prince Aharn of the Picts of Fidach well,' Bradan said.

'He is my nephew, as was his brother Loarn,' Frakkok confirmed, unsmiling. 'Where are you bound?'

'Wherever the sea road leads,' Bradan shouted. 'Or wherever this great ice mountain takes us. Where are you going with your cattle?'

'Greenland.' Erik grinned as he spoke. 'There is land for the taking there. Fertile land, sweet water, seas full of fish and no fierce Pictish warriors or Scots spearmen waiting to cut your throat.'

'Where is Greenland?' Bradan asked. 'I don't know the name.'

Erik's grin widened even further. 'Come with us and find out, if you can bear to be parted from your icy companion.'

Bradan glanced at Melcorka, who shrugged and nodded. 'I have never seen Greenland. It will be a new experience.'

'If you don't mind us coming along, we will visit this Greenland of yours,' Bradan said.

'Come along and welcome,' Erik said. 'The more, the better and who knows? You might like it well enough to settle.' Standing at his side, Frakkok nodded once, although her eyes were hard as she scanned Melcorka.

She will know me next time we meet, Melcorka thought and laughed. 'We are not the settling type, but we will come along and bid a happy good-day to Greenland.'

'You will need to come off your iceberg first.' Erik's smile did not waver.

Erik had scarcely uttered the words when a crack appeared along the entire side of the berg, accompanied by an ear-battering creaking.

'We're moving,' Bradan warned, as the ledge and the ice on either side began to slide down toward the sea. 'Hold on!'

Catriona veered first to larboard, then starboard, as she slithered down the side of the berg to splash into the sea in the midst of a cascade of ice and chilled water. Melcorka ducked as a chunk of ice crashed past her head to shatter on the gunwale and then they were merely rocking, with water splashing inboard and surging up to their knees.

'That was fortunate.' Erik had flinched at the avalanche of ice. 'Welcome to my fleet.'

Frakkok stood unmoving in the stern of the dragon-ship as if she saw a disintegrating iceberg every day of her life. Her gaze remained on Melcorka for a long minute before it slid away. A gust of wind spread graying, once-dark hair across her face so for an instant, she appeared to be looking through a curtain, and when it flicked clear, her eyes were once again on Melcorka, thoughtful and brooding.

'That Pictish woman is still examining me,' Melcorka said.

'The Picts are like that,' Bradan said. 'They are a thorough, careful people, as you know.'

Melcorka nodded. 'I remember that.'

Catriona joined the flotilla, raising her sail and sliding alongside the rearmost two ships. They were observed by a trio of curious cows and half a dozen Saxon slaves as they surged through the grey-green seas.

'I've never sailed with cattle before.' Melcorka adjusted the tiller slightly as the wind altered. 'It is already a new experience.' She looked forward, where the dragon ship of Erik and Frakkok ploughed the sea-road. With the sails set, she eased through the long swells, a masterpiece of the shipbuilders' art, as was only to be expected from a Norse vessel.

'Greenland,' Bradan said. 'I wonder if it is green and if your green people live there?'

Melcorka altered her grip on the tiller. 'If there are black and yellow people like you say, there may well be green people in Greenland.'

'I look forward to meeting them,' Bradan said.

The Norse ships, much larger than Catriona, were surging through the sea on either side of them with Erik's ship a length in front, the point of the arrow-head formation. In the stern of her vessel, Frakkok turned, placed her hands on the rail and stared at them.

'Frakkok still does not like us,' Melcorka said. 'However friendly Erik appears to be, that woman is watching us all the time.'

'I noticed,' Bradan said. 'I did not know that Pictish women willingly married Norsemen. She must have done so to be so readily accepted.' He looked over the fleet. 'There are about forty Norse women here, and twice that many men, plus slaves. They are undoubtedly settlers rather than raiders.'

'Brave men and women.' Melcorka gave grudging approval. 'Any brash young fool can carry a sword and kill monks or unsuspecting farmers or villagers. It takes real courage to collect your family and possessions and create a new life in an unknown land.'

'That was very profound,' Bradan said. 'Is this the same ferocious woman who single-handedly chased the Norse out of Alba?'

'That never happened,' Melcorka said. 'As you know full well. And Frakkok is still studying us. Don't look.'

'I am not looking.' Bradan continued to stare at the cattle in the nearest dragon ship. 'These are not the best beasts. The Norse may be great warriors, but their livestock skills leave much to be desired. Look at that one.' He pointed to a ragged dun cow. 'She won't last the winter.' He lowered his voice. 'I can feel Frakkok's eyes burning through us. That woman means us no goodwill and, as she is the matriarch of this fleet, she could turn them all against us.'

'We'll see what this Greenland place is like first,' Melcorka said. 'I am intrigued by the name!' She looked up, smiling. 'I would love to see your green men in Greenland.'

'They are your green men, not mine,' Bradan said mildly. 'And are the Norse safe with you? Or will you look for an excuse to kill them all?'

Melcorka touched the hilt of her sword. 'Let me deal with the Norse,' she said.

Bradan glanced at her. There had been something chilling in her words. 'You are a warrior, Mel but you don't kill merely because you don't like somebody. If you're looking for trouble, we'd best turn around and steer back into the storm. These are settlers, remember, Melcorka, not Vikings.'

'The Norse murdered my mother, they killed all my friends, they wiped out the entire population of my island and they tried to kill you at Callanish.'

'I know all that,' Bradan said quietly. 'I also know that you killed Egil, the Norseman who murdered your mother.'

'There are others,' Melcorka said. 'There are plenty of others.'

'Forget them,' Bradan said. 'You have killed the murderer. Now, you must put all that behind you, Melcorka. Egil was a vicious killer but most Norsemen are no different from the Scots or Picts. Some are bad and some are good.'

'And none are to be trusted,' Melcorka said grimly.

'Frakkok is not Norse,' Bradan reminded her. 'She is a Pict, and we have many Pictish friends.'

Melcorka stroked the scabbard of Defender and said nothing.