The Swordswoman Collection

Chapter 6

Melcorka stood in the bows of Wave Skimmer and stared wonderingly ahead. The mainland of Alba was far larger than she had expected. After a lifetime bounded by the confines of an island that she could walk round in a few hours, it was awe-inspiring to witness the never-ending shore of the mainland with its headland after headland and cove after cove, interspersed with semicircles of sandy beaches. Behind the coast, slow green hills rose, ridge after ridge, to the serrated peaks of purple-blue mountains.

Wave Skimmer"Alba," Bearnas said quietly. "Now we will sail as close as possible to the capital and give our message to the king."

Melcorka touched the hilt of her sword. "I chose the sword," she said, "but I cannot use it and I still do not know what is happening."

Bearnas smiled. "You do know. You were born with the way of the sword. Let Defender guide you."

"I named it that! How do you know its name?"

"Defender is only one name people have called her. She was named long before your great-great-grandmother was born and she will exist long after you have taken the warrior"s path."

Melcorka laughed. "I am no warrior."

"What do you think you are, if not a warrior?" Bearnas raised her eyebrows. "It is in you."

"But what do I do? How do I fight?"

"That is a simple question to answer." Bearnas put her hands on Melcorka"s shoulders. "Look at me, girl!"

"Yes, Mother." Melcorka fixed her gaze on her mother"s eyes. They were steady and bright, wise with years.

"You must never draw blade unless in righteousness. You must defend the weak and the righteous. You must never kill or wound for sport or fun. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother. I understand."

"Good," Bearnas said. "You must never take pleasure in killing, or kill for revenge or cruelty. Fate has granted you a gift, and you must use it responsibly, or the power will drain and turn against you. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Melcorka said.

"Good again." Although Bearnas did not smile, there was a world of compassion in her face. "You had a choice between a life of sloth and luxury or a life of duty and devotion. You chose the latter. Your name will be known, Melcorka. Sennachies will tell tales of your endeavours and bards will sing of your deeds, or you will die in a ditch and the wind will play tunes through your bones. That is the way of the warrior."

"It is a hard choice I have made."

"It was your choice," Bearnas said. "If you draw your blade for the right, defend the weak and oppose tyranny, Defender will fight for you. She will not fight for injustice, or for the wrong. Remember that, Melcorka."

"I will," Melcorka said.

"Then this is to help you remember," Bearnas said and, with all the crew of Wave Skimmer as witnesses, she leaned forward and kissed her daughter on the nose. The resulting cheers did nothing to ease Melcorka"s blushes.

Wave Skimmer"Bearnas! Over there!" The shout came from the masthead. "Sail, ho! Sail on the larboard bow!"

"Keep an eye on it," Bearnas ordered.

"I will need more than one eye," the reply came down immediately. "There is more than one sail. There are two… three… four… There is a whole fleet, Bearnas."

"I"m coming up." Although Bearnas would never see fifty again, she scrambled up the rigging like a teenager to join Oengus at the mast head. "Melcorka," she called down, "up you come."

Oengus slid down the backstay to make room for Melcorka. "The deck looks tiny from up here." Melcorka balanced at the masthead without any fear of the height.

"Don"t look straight down," Bearnas advised, "until you get used to it. You"ll be dizzy and might lose your balance." She pointed north. "Look over there instead and tell me what you can see."

Melcorka tore her gaze from the thumbnail-sized deck of Wave Skimmer and looked north. From up here, the mainland was clearer, the mountains larger, sharper, starker than she had expected and the coast stretched forever to the south. Offshore, in a crescent formation, was rank after rank of ships.

Wave Skimmer"Who are they?" Melcorka asked.

"The enemy," Bearnas said quietly, "the men of the North. They are back."

"Is that who Baetan spoke of?"

"That is who Baetan warned of," Bearnas said quietly. "By rights, the king should be first to know. By rights, he should make the decision. But now you have seen them, you must know. They are the enemies of your blood, Melcorka."

"Have we fought them before?" Melcorka tossed the hair from her eyes. She found it easy to balance on the cross-trees with her legs wrapped around the cool pole of the mast. "I have heard the Sennachie, but I thought that was just a story. I know I have not fought them, but, Mother, you are all geared up like a warrior woman, and all the islanders treat you with respect. And what is this Cenel Bearnas anyway, Mother? Are you the leader here?"

When Bearnas looked at her, Melcorka saw the worry behind her humour. "So many questions from one young woman! By now, you will be aware that we are not simple islanders, Melcorka."

"What are we, Mother?"

"We are what we are. We are called upon when needed."

"Are we needed now?" Melcorka looked at the fleet that was creeping noticeably closer. "Are we going to attack them?"

"You can count, Melcorka. How many are there?"

Melcorka ran her eyes over the fleet. "Thirty – no, there are more behind that headland."

"That is Cape Wrath – the Cape of Turning," Bearnas told her. "The coast alters direction there and rather than south to north, it runs east to west."

"More ships are coming from behind the headland of Cape Wrath," Melcorka said, "many more ships."

"Now, count how many ships we have."

"One," Melcorka said at once.

"Do you still think we should attack them?"

The wind fluctuated, sending the sail flapping against the single mast. Melcorka shook her head. "No," she said. "No, we should not."

"But you want to?" Bearnas eyes were sharp.

"I want to," Melcorka agreed.

"Warrior woman," Bearnas said. She raised her voice. "Back oars! Oengus, steer for the south. Baetan, beat the time for the oarsmen."

Baetan thumped the hilt of his sword on the hull, quickening the pace, so Wave Skimmer proved true to her name and surged across the water. The crew responded with a will but, after half an hour, age began to tell and a rasping gasp accompanied each stroke of the oars.

Wave Skimmer"Keep going!" Bearnas encouraged as Oengus guided them past a group of skerries, where the sea broke in silver spray against the dark-green rock.

Melcorka watched as the starboard oars nearly skiffed the outer rocks and the backwash rocked the ship, throwing spindrift onto the crew. A clutch of seals watched through round brown eyes.

"Melcorka," Bearnas spoke above the regular gasps, "get back aloft and keep watch to the northward. Inform me of everything the Norse do."

The Norse fleet was more distant than before, their sails merging with the darkening sky. Melcorka lost count of their numbers as the ships changed formation to round a prominent headland.

"We head south," Bearnas ordered, "and then east. There is a sheltered bay where even the Norse won"t land."

"We could sail all the way to Alcluid and march from there," Granny Rowan suggested.

"Such a course would mean passing through the territory of the Lord of the Isles," Bearnas said. "I am not prepared to do that."

In these high latitudes, the night was late in coming. There was a slow easing of daylight to a pink flush in the west, that faded to a heart-stoppingly beautiful sunset of scarlet and gold that died as the sun slid beneath the horizon. And then the darkness was intense, broken only by the slight phosphorescence of waves breaking on unseen skerries and the rising blades of their oars. After a while stars appeared, adding depth to the mystery of the sky.

"Row soft and easy," Bearnas ordered. "Sound carries far in the night."

"Can you hear them?" Melcorka asked.

The sound was distinctive, the deep-throated singing of thousands of men growling across the surge and swell of the sea. The song was powerful, an ode to forthcoming s*******r, a battle song to Odin and Thor.

"They are not coming to raid," Melcorka lifted her sword and felt the thrill of battle run from her hand to her whole body, "they are coming to conquer. It is the song they sing."

"But we are no longer enemies," Oengus said. "We share the same king."

"But not the same blood," Baetan reminded him. He stood in the stern of Wave Skimmer and touched the hilt of his sword. "Our days of peace have gone."

Wave Skimmer"Then God save this land of Alba," Bearnas said softly, "for we are ill-prepared for war."

"He will if He wills," Baetan said.

"How did you come to be in the sea?" Melcorka had wanted to ask that question since she had first found Baetan on the beach. Politeness had restrained her curiosity until now.

"The Norse destroyed my village," Baetan said quietly. "I was the only survivor."

"You are a warrior," Melcorka said bluntly. "I did not know we had any in Alba."

"We have them," Bearnas told her. "You will meet them by and by."

The boom of surf on cliff foot alerted them to danger, and the gleam of silver foam showed them where it lay. High above, stars glittered in the dark abyss of the sky.

"Look for the stretch of blackness between the surf," Bearnas ordered, "and fear only what you can see." She moved aft and took control of the steering-oar. "I remember this coast," she said, "so obey my orders when I give them."

Melcorka saw the dark break in between two lines of surf and knew there must be a gap in the cliff wall.

"Up oars, lower the mast," Bearnas ordered.

Wave Skimmer tossed on the back surge from the cliffs as the crew unfastened the stays that held the mast secure and positioned it back in the bottom of the boat. Melcorka watched, unable to help as she admired this newly-revealed skill of these middle-aged men and women.

Wave Skimmer"Oars!" Bearnas said quietly. "Quarter speed."

Wave Skimmer barely made headway against the receding tide as Baetan beat the time and the oarsmen grunted with effort. Melcorka watched as the stars suddenly vanished.

Wave Skimmer"Witchcraft?" she asked.

"Nothing like," Oengus said. "Stand tall and raise a hand. Go on!"

Melcorka did so and touched solid rock. "We are entering another cave," she said. "I did not know the world had so many caves."

"We are not in a cave, girl," Bearnas said. "We are in a tunnel."

After five minutes of cautious groping, with the oars on either side scraping on rock, Wave Skimmer re-emerged into the open air, with a circle of star-specked sky above.

Wave Skimmer"Steer starboard," Bearnas ordered, "hard against the rock-face."

Wave Skimmer eased toward a granite cliff, smoothed by the constant caress of the sea. "Up oars," Bearnas said, "smart now." The crew lifted their oars exactly as the ship touched something hard and Bearnas looped a rope over a jutting outcrop of rock. "I"ve used this landing stage before," she explained, "many years ago." She nodded upward. "That overhang shields us from view and the narrow opening ensures that there are no rough seas to damage the ship."

Wave Skimmer"Mother…" Melcorka began.

"You may call me Bearnas now," Bearnas said.

"You have told me nothing about your earlier life." Melcorka touched the hilt of the sword that already seemed so natural for her to carry across her back.

"No, no I have not," Bearnas agreed. "Now get some sleep. You have had a busy day and tomorrow will be no quieter."

Sleep proved elusive as Melcorka lay on the wooden planks of Wave Skimmer"s deck, staring at the familiar stars in this most unfamiliar environment. Her mind raced with a score of questions, from wondering who she was, to what was going to happen the following day.

Wave Skimmer"sShe touched the sword and experienced an immediate thrill of power, withdrew her hand and the feeling ebbed away. So it was as she surmised; the weapon possessed the power, not her. She remained the same island girl she had always been. But why had her mother kept so much from her? And what was her mother"s mysterious history?

"You may find out, and you may not." Granny Rowan sat above her, smiling and obviously guessing her thoughts. "Your future should be more important to you than your mother"s past. In the meantime, get some sleep. God knows you might need it. Only He knows what the morrow will bring."

"I won"t sleep," Melcorka said.

Granny Rowan"s smile broadened as she touched a gnarled finger to Melcorka"s eyelids. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

The sun was well risen before Melcorka awoke, to find all the crew busy and a breakfast of freshly caught salmon roasting on hot stones, together with cold water flavoured with rowan berries.

"Decided to join us, sleepy head?" Granny Rowan passed across a pewter mug. "Drink, eat and wash, Melcorka, and then check your sword."

They were in an oval basin surrounded by hundred foot high cliffs, with only the rock tunnel as a passage in and out. Trees clung to precarious cracks and minuscule ledges of the rock, acting as a shield from any eyes above.

"How do we get up there?" Melcorka scanned the cliff-face.

"There is a path." Bearnas fingered the half-cross pendant that hung around her neck. "And then our journey begins." She stroked the throat of Bright-Eyes and then launched the eagle into the sky. "Off you go, my pretty, and live your life. You and I will never meet again."

"Never again?" Melcorka asked.

Bearnas" gaze followed the eagle as it soared upward into the stark blue of the morning. "This is my last adventure, Melcorka. My destiny awaits." She looked around the basin. "Soon, you will walk your own path."

"Mother, I don"t understand," Melcorka said.

"You will, when the time is right." Bearnas" smile was gentle. "Just accept what comes."

"Time we were moving," Baetan said, "The morning is wearing on. I"ll take the rearguard." He tapped his sword meaningfully. "I have scores to pay with these Norsemen."

The path was wider than a finger but not as wide as a hand, treacherous with slithering stones and tangled roots that lay across the surface and so steep that mountain goats would flinch. Bearnas led them at a trot, leaping over obstacles as if she was a twenty-year-old youth and not a middle-aged mother. The others followed, shedding the weight of age as they negotiated the climb.

The cliff led them to a plateau, where ice-carried boulders marred a sea of scrubby grass. Bearnas wasted no time in admiring the vista of nearby hills and more distant, ragged, blue mountains. She increased the pace to a canter, splashing through patches of bog-land without pause, leaping across the burns that churned downward from the heights, easing past the miles. Behind her, the Cenel Bearnas followed in a short column of women and men.

The sun was halfway to its zenith when Bearnas lifted her right hand in the air. The column halted at once, with Oengus stopping Melcorka with a single finger on her forehead. Bearnas dropped her hand to touch her nose, and the Cenel Bearnas lifted their heads to sniff the air.

"Smoke." Granny Rowan"s low voice carried to every ear in the column. "And burning meat."

Bearnas pointed to Oengus and Melcorka before sinking to a crouch, until she was nearly invisible amidst the blowing heather. She nodded inland.

Oengus crooked a finger to Melcorka and shifted to the left, away from the column and toward the hills. He moved in a crouch and she followed, wondering how this grey-haired man could retain his energy for so long.

The column was ten minutes behind them before Melcorka saw a haze of blue smoke drifting in a broadening column ahead. She tapped Oengus on the shoulder.

"I see it." His voice was hard. "What you see next, you will always remember. Are you feeling brave, Melcorka?"

She nodded.

"Aye, you"re your mother"s daughter right enough." His wink was incongruous as he loosened his sword in the scabbard across his back. "Here." He passed over a lump of fat. "Grease your blade with this. It will come out that little touch faster, maybe enough to save your life when half seconds count."

He waited until she returned the blade to its scabbard, then dipped his hands into a peat hole and smeared the black muck over his face. "Pay close attention to the cheekbones and forehead, Melcorka, for these parts reflect the light," he told her quietly. "Cover them."

Melcorka followed his lead, watching his critical eye.

"Keep your head below the skyline," Oengus said, "don"t move quickly and for God"s sake keep downwind of any beast." He nodded and slid away through waist-high heather, twisting toward a slight ridge over which the blue smoke hung thick.

They ducked as they came to the crest, keeping their heads beneath the level of the swaying purple plants as they peered through the smoke.

Where once there had been a clachan, a village, now there was only a charnel house. Where there had been fifteen stone-built cottages roofed with heather, now there were fifteen smouldering funeral fires. Where there had been a herd of cattle, now there were scattered bodies, except for three whose butchered remains were roasting on long spits. What had once been a thriving community was now a place where corpses lay splayed out on the blood-smeared ground, and three n***d young women screamed in terror. They lay bound together by stout ropes under the grinning gaze of twenty men with blonde hair and long swords.

clachan"I knew this place once," Oengus said quietly, "in the old days."

"What"s happened?" Melcorka asked.

"As you can see, the Northmen have happened," Oengus said quietly. "It looks like a small raiding party found this settlement." He nodded toward the devastation. "This is typical work for our neighbours from over the sea."

Melcorka fought her nausea at the sight of the dead bodies and the blood. "I"ve never seen anything so horrible in my life."

"I know you haven"t." Oengus said, "and you"ll see worse, a lot worse. What you see here is only just the beginning."

One of the Norse warriors grabbed the youngest of the captives by the hair and lifted her to her feet, laughing when she screamed. Three more of the Norsemen began to give advice, their voices and language harsh against the background of s*******r.

"She must be all of ten years old," Oengus said.

"We must stop them," Melcorka spoke urgently. "We can"t let the Norse kill them as well."

"They will be glad when it is their time to die," Oengus said. "Norsemen are not gentle to their slaves."

Melcorka"s eyes widened as she realised what fate awaited the three women. "We have to help them."

"All two of us?" Oengus tone was slightly mocking. "A grey-bearded old man and a child with no experience of war, pitted against a full Norse raiding party?" He shook his head. "That would be a short encounter."

The young girl screamed again, and then once more as the largest and most grizzled of the Norsemen lifted her by her hair and swung her over his shoulder, laughing.

Melcorka shook her head. "We can"t just watch," she said.

Oengus shrugged. "What do you suggest? There are twenty of them."

Although Melcorka merely touched the hilt of her sword for reassurance, the surge of power ran from Defender up her arm and thrilled her entire body. She did not recognise her laugh. "Only twenty?"

"Melcorka." Oengus attempted to restrain her with a hand on her arm.

She shook him off, drew Defender with a shrill shriek of steel and strode forward, feeling a tingle of excitement, along with a surge of savage anger. "Hello, Norsemen! I am Melcorka, and I order you to leave these women alone."

"Melcorka!" Oengus shouted after her, but Melcorka was already a dozen paces closer to the Norse.

The Norse warrior threw the young girl aside as if she were a sack of grain and pulled his sword free of its scabbard. "You are keen to die today," he said casually. His sword was long and bright with use, and he held it with such familiarity that Melcorka knew he was an expert. He was also carrying an old injury, with a weaker left leg, a fact Melcorka noticed without thinking.

"One of us will die." The words sounded overblown even as she said them.

The Norseman snorted and advanced, head held high and sword low. Melcorka felt Defender stir in her grasp, waited until the Norseman was close, turned and ran. His coarse laugh followed her, rising as she stumbled and fell.

He loomed over her as she rolled onto her back and stared upward. Almost casually, he poised his sword above her throat, but the slight hesitation as he picked his spot granted Melcorka sufficient time to kick out at his weak leg and swing Defender as he winced. The blade took the Norseman on his left side between his third and fourth rib, with the blood spurting in a crimson cloud. Melcorka twisted her sword, withdrew, stood up and finished him with a single thrust to his heart.

"One!" she yelled and brandished Defender. "Come on, you hounds of the north. Come and face Melcorka!"

The Norsemen were eager to oblige, with three of them drawing swords and rushing toward her, while a fourth released his axe from a log of wood and wandered over to enjoy the s*******r of the innocent.

Melcorka waited until they came close. She noticed that the man on the left blocked the sword arm of the man in the middle; she could temporarily discount him. Accordingly, she slashed across the eyes of the much more dangerous man on the right and continued her swing, so the tip of Defender caught the nose of the next man and neatly split it in two. He screamed and grabbed at his face, which left only one man to kill. Melcorka saw the hate in the Norseman"s eyes when his companions fell at his side. She knew he was too angry to be rational.

"Come on, berserker!" she taunted and stepped aside to give herself room to swing. The Norseman roared some incoherent oath and charged straight at her. Although the warrior ran at full speed, to Melcorka, he seemed to move in slow motion, with his sword swinging from behind his head.

She lifted Defender to block his blow, felt the shock of steel on steel, whirled her sword in a semicircle and flicked upward and sideways. The Norseman"s sword was ripped from his grasp and sent spinning into the air. He stared for an instant, but recovered and lunged forward, straight onto Melcorka"s sword as she spitted him through the throat.

"Melcorka!" she yelled and poised herself for the next challenge.

After witnessing the death of his companions, the axe man was more cautious. He shifted his weapon from hand to hand, circling Melcorka, looking for an opening or a weakness before committing himself to battle.

She waited for him, unsmiling, feeling the power and skill thrill through her.

At last the axe man advanced, feinting low toward her legs before stepping back and delivering an overarm swing that would have cloven her skull and travelled right down her body, had she not parried with the edge of Defender. Her blade sliced through the wooden handle of the axe, leaving the Norseman with twelve inches of useless ash wood. Melcorka recovered, feinted to his eyes and sliced with a wicked under-and-up cut that emasculated him and continued upward to gut him cleanly. The Norseman fell in agonised silence and stared as his intestines coiled around him in pink-and-grey horror.

"Cenel Bearnas!" Melcorka shouted.

It took that long for the remainder of the Norse war band to reach her. She heard the whirr of the thrown spear, inclined her head so it passed harmlessly by, and laughed at the attempt. Two arrows were next, their flights like the screaming of demented wind, but Melcorka flicked one from the air and ignored the second.

"Cenel Bearnas!"

"Odin!" The reply came from a dozen throats. "Odin owns you! Odin and death!"

"A quick death for you!" Melcorka yelled, as the Norse formed a semicircle around her, with the flames and smoke from the burning village rising behind them, flickering orange against the purple-bruised clouds of the sky.

They came in a rush, twelve young men with chain mail dulled by the salt-spray of their ocean passage and smears of blood on their faces from their m******e of the villagers. Twelve warriors with iron pot-helmets on their heads and iron-studded sandals on their feet. They unleashed a volley of spears, then drew long, straight swords and charged; there were twelve angry Norsemen against one untried woman. But Melcorka had Defender, and the power of the sword dictated her fight.

As the Norse approached, Melcorka shifted her weight to her left foot, so they had to alter their attack, crossing one another in their eagerness to kill. Melcorka waited until they were so bunched together that they blocked each other"s sword arms, then she stepped forward with controlled swings of Defender that took the legs from three men and left them screaming on their stumps. The next man hesitated for a second that cost him his life, as Melcorka thrust Defender straight through his throat.

"Leave some for me." A nearly toothless grin shone through Oengus" grey beard. He drew the two-handed sword from its scabbard on his back and slashed diagonally downward, cutting a Norseman nearly in half.

Melcorka nodded her appreciation as the remaining Norse turned to run. She bounded after them, caught and killed the slowest and then threw Defender at another.

"No!" Oengus held out a restraining hand. He was too late. The sword spun, blade over hilt, once, twice, three times before it lodged in the spine of the running man.

Melcorka watched the Norseman fall. She did not see the spear that a young warrior hurled until it thrummed past, with the shaft catching a glancing blow on the side of her head. She yelled and dropped, clutching at her injury.

Hearing her scream and witnessing her fall, half a dozen Norsemen ran forward, roaring their war cries: "Thor! Thor! Thor! Odin owns you!"

Melcorka could not get back to her feet. Dazed, she saw Oengus take six steps forward and stand, sword poised, to meet them. "Oengus, be careful!" Her voice was slurred, her vision blurred as she watched events unfold.

Oengus was like a rock, a chunk of granite around which the tide of Norsemen surged and broke. Melcorka forced herself to her feet as Oengus felled the first man with a short stab to the groin, ducked the swing of an axe, slashed the Achilles tendon of a third and cracked the top of his helmet onto the nose of the next. Melcorka took a step forward and stopped in sudden panic. She was no warrior! She was an island girl; she had never seen a sword until only a few days ago and had certainly never killed a man before today.

Oengus laughed as he crossed swords with a lithe, red-haired man, gasped as his opponent nicked his neck, and roared in triumph as he thrust his blade into the man"s chest.

Melcorka took a step backwards, shocked at the raw blood and shattered bodies of the battlefield. This horror was much worse than anything she had ever imagined; worse than her worst visions of hell.

"Come on, you Northern hounds!" Oengus shouted, as two warriors attacked him together, one on either side. He parried the blow of the man on his right, but swung left just an instant too late to stop the young man"s blade l*****g in at the level of his kidneys. His roar of pain raised the hairs on Melcorka"s neck.

"Oengus." She covered her mouth with her hands as the Norse swords rose and fell. Oengus, the granite rock of a few moments previously, was now an old man, a plaything to these active young warriors. They killed him slowly, chopping him to pieces as he collapsed, and laughing as his blood flowed. "Oh God, no!"

"Cenel Bearnas!" The slogan rose high in the air. "Cenel Bearnas!"

They came in a wedge formation with Bearnas leading and the rest following, men and women that Melcorka had known all her life now wielding swords and axes with as much aplomb as the most doughty of champions. They crashed into the Norse, hacked them down in seconds, then split into pairs and hunted through the clachan for any who survived.

"Mother." Melcorka could not prevent herself from shaking. Tears scored her face and dripped from her chin. "Oengus… I got him killed."

Bearnas stood over Oengus" body. "He chose the warrior"s path and died in combat," she said quietly. "It was his time. You had nothing to do with it."

"If I hadn"t…"

Bearnas put two fingers across her lips. "You don"t know what might or might not have happened, Melcorka." She stepped back. "Did you lose Defender?"

"I threw it at a Norseman," Melcorka explained.

"You know now that it is Defender that has the skill and the power, not you. You are the conduit. Without you, Defender is only a sword; without Defender, you are only an island girl. Next time you fight, never let Defender go."

"I"ll never fight again." Melcorka shook her head, still in tears, staring at the scene of horror and the butchered corpse of Oengus. "Never."

"Here…" Retrieving Defender from the body of its last victim, Bearnas threw it to Melcorka. "Clean that blade and keep it safe."

Baetan sheathed his sword. "We were lucky," he said. "That was just a raiding party."

As soon as she held Defender, Melcorka felt her courage return. "What do you mean, Baetan?"

"The fleet we saw held the Norse army, real trained warriors, not ten-to-one murderers like these creatures were." Baetan spat on the nearest Norse body. "That thing would be scared to stand in the shadow of a real Northman." The look he gave Melcorka could have frozen a volcano. "Did you think you had bested Norse warriors in a fair fight? You have a lot to learn, Melcorka, before you can face a Norse shield wall."