The Shining One

Chapter Two

Chapter TwoWith Bradan leading the way with his deceptively slow stride, they followed the sun on its passage west. Less than two years previously, Melcorka had travelled in the opposite direction with her mother and the people she had known all her life. She had been a naïve island girl then, unsure and untried, with no idea of the powers that her sword, Defender, could give her. Now, everybody who had travelled with her was dead, and she was a warrior with a reputation.

Melcorka looked sideways at Bradan. Somewhere along the journey she had picked him up, or he had picked her up, she was not sure which.

'And what are you thinking?' Bradan asked.

'Nothing for your ears.' Melcorka examined her surroundings. All around her were great, gaunt mountains and long expanses of bogland, with open stretches of dark water ringed with reeds and the occasional small island with lonely trees nodding in the breeze. She was in a place of nature spirits, of the old, vanished peoples and their knowledge. There was peace here; as if the inhabitants had found what they sought within them and moved on.

'You are wondering what the future holds,' Bradan said. 'Fitheach would not have handed over this staff unless there was a purpose for it.'

Melcorka smiled. As long as she had Defender, she had little to fear, and anyway, she had been growing stale and bored in the luxury of royal court life. 'Fitheach is an intelligent woman. We will deal with whatever comes when it comes.'

Bradan tapped his staff on the ground. 'I am glad that you are with me, Melcorka. I only hope I do not lead you into trouble.'

'I led you to plenty.' Melcorka glanced over to him. 'Now we are moving, could you tell me who it is you are looking for?'

'I am searching for the knowledge of Abaris.' Bradan smiled. 'He was a good man, Melcorka. You have nothing to fear from him.'

'He was a good man,' Melcorka said. 'Has he stopped being so good now?'

Bradan nodded. 'He is dead.'

'Abaris the dead man,' Melcorka said. 'I do not know the name. 'You can tell me more about him later. Here's the village now.'

They had arrived at a small cluster of houses beside Loch Ewe, where a group of exotic palm trees waved a welcome and proved that a warm sea current from undreamed-of shores heated this limpid water. A row of fishing boats leaned their masts above the high-tide line of seaweed, while a gaggle of tousle-headed, barefoot children greeted them with loud cries and raised hands. A man looked up from his task of mending his nets.

'God bless the road,' he said, steady-eyed, 'and the travellers that use it.'

'God bless the work.' Bradan rested on his staff as he stood to talk. 'It's a fine day.'

The man continued to work, checking each strand of his net as he wove. 'It is that. If you are visiting the village, then my house is the first you come to, and you are welcome to stay if your purpose is peaceful and welcome to pass by if you seek to do harm.'

'We seek to do no harm,' Melcorka said.

'Then that sword is a very ornate decoration for a woman seeking only peace,' the man said. 'I am MacLean of the nets.'

'I am Bradan the Wanderer, and this is Melcorka the Swordswoman.' Bradan introduced them both. 'We are heading west-over-seas to seek news of Abaris.'

'I do not know the name. I do know that there is a boat leaving shortly for Port-nan-loch in the isles.' MacLean glanced at the sun and the sea. 'You had better hurry. The tide is on the turn, and Captain Nicolson will not wait for anyone.'

The boat was typical of the isles, a leather-hulled curragh, broad-beamed, with a single central mast. The six crewmen leaned on the shafts of their slim-bladed oars as Bradan and Melcorka negotiated the fare with the captain. The curragh bobbed lightly on the surface of the loch, her blunt bow pointing toward the open sea.

'Prancer is a fine ship, the fastest in these waters and safe in a blow.' Captain Nicolson was a long-faced, weather-beaten man wearing a leather waistcoat above a short kilt. 'Where are you going?' He eyed up Bradan, calculating how much he could charge for the passage by the quality of his clothing and the value of his possessions. As Bradan wore a simple leine below a brown cloak and carried only a single bag over his shoulder, the fare would be low.

'Wherever you are headed, Captain,' Bradan said. 'I know the southern isles where the Lord of the Isles holds sway, but not the outer isles.'

Nicolson grunted. 'Aye. Maybe you won't want to know them when you get there. If Hector allows you in.' He nodded toward Melcorka. 'Is the woman coming, too?'

'The woman is certainly coming, too, Captain.' Melcorka stepped on board and sat on a bench near the stern. 'If you have room for me.'

Nicolson glanced overboard, where the waves burst against the shingle in a sparkling display of silver-white surf. 'Aye. I've room if you have payment.' His eyes shifted from Melcorka's sword with the ornate hilt, to the cairngorm-and-silver brooch that held her hooded travelling cloak in place, and the fare automatically rose.

'I have payment.' Melcorka extracted a silver coin from within her cloak and spun it into Nicolson's ready hand. 'That is for both of us,' she said. 'Best hurry if you are to catch the tide.'

Nicolson bit into the coin to test its purity. 'I always have room for a beautiful woman,' he said. 'Untie the mooring ropes, boys and pull for the sea.'

The curragh pushed out into the loch, then completed a slow circle, sunwise for luck, as Nicholson took the steering oar in the stern and pointed his long face toward the west.

'Who is this dead man you are journeying to visit, Bradan?' Melcorka nodded as the crew pulled at their oars and the curragh slid easily toward the open sea. Lacking a keel, it floated lightly on the surface of the water and skiffed over the top of barely submerged reefs and skerries that would tear the bottom out of vessels of deeper draught.

'I told you that his name was Abaris,' Bradan said. 'I did not tell you that he lived a few hundred years ago.'

Melcorka nodded. 'If he has been dead that length of time, I doubt he will be saying much to you.'

'He may say nothing and tell me a lot,' Bradan said, as the head of the curragh rose to a wave as they pulled into the boisterous seas of the Minch, the stretch of often rough water that divided the mainland from the Hebridean islands.

'That may be interesting.' Melcorka took a deep breath of the sharp-salt-laden air. It was a long time since she had tasted sea air and she realised how much she missed it. 'Who was he?'

'Abaris was a magus, a druid who travelled from Alba to Greece to discuss philosophy with the learned men there. The ancient Greek scholars spoke highly of him without giving a precise location for his home. They mentioned that he came from a winged temple, but we don't know much more than that.'

Bradan stopped to point to the dorsal fin that sliced through the water. 'That's a basking shark. They are not usually so close inshore around here. Something must have disturbed it.'

'There have been a few unusual things recently,' Nicolson said. 'Caterans venturing further afield, selkies in the outer isles and ships vanishing.' He looked at the empty seas. 'You can be thankful that you are on Prancer. We can outrun any ship on the sea, given the right weather conditions.'

Melcorka lifted a finger to test the air. 'Let's hope we don't need to run from anybody.'

'You're safer on land than at sea,' Bradan said. 'I like the feel of the ground beneath my feet.'

'Yet you're sailing to the islands to search for a man who is already dead,' Melcorka mused. 'He must be very important to you.'

Bradan nodded. 'He has been central to my life.'

'I've never heard of Abaris,' Melcorka said. 'When did you start searching for him?'

'The day after I first heard of him,' Bradan said. 'All my life.'

'Why?' Melcorka asked. 'I have never heard of anybody doing anything like this before.'

Bradan smiled. 'I am known as Bradan the Wanderer, yet I don't wander aimlessly. I have a purpose. Abaris was a seeker after wisdom and I am a seeker after Abaris.'

Melcorka watched as a seagull circled before landing on top of the mast. 'How do you know about him?'

Bradan held her gaze. 'Have you ever heard of a man named Diodorus Siculus?'

'I have not,' Melcorka said. The seagull looked agitated as it flew away again to circle the boat. 'Who is he?'

'Diodorus Siculus was a scholar and a writer from Sicily, an island south of Rome,' Bradan said. 'He wrote about Abaris, saying that he visited Athens, which is in Greece.'

'I have heard of Athens.' Melcorka did not wish Bradan to think she knew nothing of the world outside Alba.

Bradan did not smile. 'Athens was a famous centre of learning. Diodorus said that Abaris was a Hyperborean from beyond the north wind, a healer and a seer.'

Melcorka lifted a hand. 'That means nothing to me. What is a Hyperborean? And how can you get beyond the north wind?'

'I believe that Diodorus meant somewhere beyond their knowledge, somewhere so far north of Greece that they did not know where it was.'

Melcorka nodded, watching the mainland of Scotland slip astern. 'That would make sense.'

'I think Abaris could be a druid, a holy, learned man from Erin or Alba – more likely Alba, as we are further north.' Bradan gave a small smile. 'Beyond the north wind, indeed.'

Melcorka watched as more seagulls joined the first, flocking around the curragh as the oarsmen chanted their iorram, the rhythmic song that kept them in time as they rowed.

'Beyond the north wind is a large area to search for a long-dead druid,' Melcorka said.

'According to Diodorus Siculus,' Bradan said, 'Abaris came from a winged temple. I have visited a great number of places that could be called a temple without finding any mention or trace of Abaris.' He looked up with a lopsided smile. 'Or anything that could be called wings.'

There were other birds among the seagulls now; shags, cormorants and gannets in a squawking unity that Melcorka had never before witnessed. 'Have you asked the monks at Iona or the other monasteries? They are educated men.'

'They are very educated, yet they don't know anything about Abaris, or the winged temple. Or,' Bradan added, 'maybe they don't want to talk about a magus who preceded Christianity in Alba.'

The birds were gathering; razorbills and kittiwakes, Arctic terns, black-backed gulls, skuas and shearwaters; a score of different types congregating around the curragh, calling, screaming and squawking in an unholy cacophony. There were even two crows, land-birds caught up in this winged maritime display. Melcorka looked around the horizon. The mainland was rapidly falling behind, with the mountains and all their memories only a blue smear. All around were the shapes of islands, some close and colourful, others distant; a scattering of individual worlds set amidst a sea that could alter from benign beauty to a full-scale storm within a few moments.

And still the birds gathered, circling the curragh.

Something was wrong.

'This Abaris is very important to you.' Melcorka tore her attention back to Bradan.

'He was the reason for my existence,' Bradan said. 'If he combined the learning of the druids with the wisdom of Greece, he must have been one of the most knowledgeable of men. I wandered with the sole purpose of finding him so I could obtain at least some of his knowledge.' He smiled. 'Until I met you, I took no interest in the physical works of men. Their politics and power struggles did not concern me. I was only a man with a staff, wandering the roads and trails, yet all the time I was searching.'

The birds clustered above them in a clamorous cloud, white and black wings fluttering, sharp beaks open as they called together. The seamen stared up in wonderment, with the notes of the iorram disrupted and one man missing a stroke, so a pailful of water cascaded into the curragh and splashed up from stem to stern before draining through the scuppers.

'You clumsy oaf!' Nicolson roared. 'Concentrate on your rowing and never heed the birds.'

Bradan frowned as his train of thought was broken. 'Have you ever seen such a congregation of birds above a lone boat?'

'I have not,' Melcorka said. She watched as a pair of oystercatchers joined them with the black and white feathers creating a perfect cross. She smiled; if there were oystercatchers there, she knew they had come to help her.

'They are going to attack us!' one of the oarsmen yelled.

'They are not,' Melcorka said. 'They are warning us of danger ahead.' She pointed to the oystercatchers. 'That is my totem bird, my guide. Follow them.'

'I am master of this ship!' Nicolson began, and then looked up. Sounding their piping call, the oystercatchers left the flock and headed north, while the other birds continued to circle the mast. There were more crows now, their black shapes incongruous among their maritime companions.

'Captain!' the man at the steering oar pointed to an island in the south. 'A ship! Two ships… three ships are coming round that headland there.'

'Caterans!' Nicolson said. He stepped to the steering oar and pushed the helmsman aside. 'What are you waiting for, boys? Did you not hear the woman? Follow the oystercatchers! Increase the stroke so we can keep up with these blasted birds!'