The Swordswoman Collection

Chapter 15

They heard the whistle, low and soft above the sough of the wind. "I don"t recognise that bird," Melcorka said. "It is like the call of the Gregorach, except lighter."

"I do not recognise it, either." Bradan tapped his staff on the ground. "This is not an area I have been in before."

They entered a clearing where the grass underfoot was soft and verdant green, with long shadows from a sun invisible behind mauve clouds and a herd of deer grazing with no fear of their presence.

"They are tame enough to be pets," Melcorka said happily, as a hind trotted past to her stag.

"Too tame," Bradan said. "I have never seen the like before, although I have heard of it." He ducked his head. "Hurry through here, Melcorka. Something is wrong."

There was another low whistle, barely heard but clear inside Melcorka"s head.

"Can you hear that?" Bradan stopped, so the hush intensified around them, then moved on, faster than before.

"I hear it," Melcorka said. "It has been with us all day, not quite here and not gone."

"How would you describe it?" Bradan held his staff like a weapon.

"Ethereal," Melcorka said quietly.

"We spoke of the People of Peace a day or three ago," Bradan said. "Today, we have our chance to meet them. May God have mercy on us."

Melcorka felt the sudden racing of her heart. She reached for the hilt of her sword. "I will not be taken into their realm so quietly," she said.

"We are already there," Bradan told her. "Look around you."

The deer were still grazing peacefully, ignoring them as if they were not there, while a brace of mountain hares jinked past. A blackbird called, the sound so melancholic that Melcorka wanted it to last forever.

"It is beautiful," she said.

"It is the land of Faery," Bradan said. "Elfhame, where humans are not wanted, yet stay forever."

"How did we get here?" Melcorka kept her grip on Defender.

"We walked through a portal," Bradan told her. "We would not see it, yet it was there, somewhere on the hill behind us. Look back. Can you see our route?"

Grey-green light surrounded them, easing into the misted shape of trees, with the sky invisible and no sign of the hills from where they had descended. "I cannot see our route," Melcorka said.

"Nor can I." Bradan tapped his staff on the ground. "Yet we know the hills are there, and the snow and the wind. It should be night, yet it is not dark, nor is it light."

"It is not right," Melcorka said.

"We will not reach Fidach," Bradan said.

"You are scared," Melcorka said. "I have never seen you like this. You were not scared of the Norse, or in Castle Gloom. You are more afraid of the People of Peace than you were of the wolves."

"Mortal man may kill me," Bradan said, "and that is the end of things. Wolves will eat me, and I will be gone, but the People of Peace are not mortal, and I fear immortality."

"So let"s greet them and see what they want." Melcorka raised her voice. "I am Melcorka the Swordswoman of the Cenel Bearnas! My companion is Bradan the Wanderer. What do you wish with us?"

The whistling stopped abruptly. The silence hushed around them, gentle as the eyes of the grazing deer, so relaxing that Melcorka was unsure if she wished to lie down to sleep, or run in panic. She was still wondering when a medium-sized woman stepped from the shifting shape of a tree in front of them. Dressed in a neat black and white smock that reached to her knees, and with her red hair braided around her neck, she smiled across at them.

"Well met, Melcorka of the Cenel Bearnas." Her words formed in Melcorka"s mind yet she would have sworn that the woman had not spoken. "I am Ceridwen."

"Well met, Ceridwen." Melcorka did not move her hand from the hilt of Defender. "Are you of the People of Peace?"

"Are you of the people of war?"

"Bradan is a man of peace," Melcorka said, "he carries no weapon save a staff. I have been a warrior and will be again."

"You carry a sword of steel," Ceridwen said. "And you have used it?" Her voice rose in a question.

"I have." Melcorka looked around but could not see anybody else in the surreal light. She recognised Ceridwen"s clear voice, though. "We have met before," she said, "in a rock stack off the western coast of Alba. You know all about this sword."

Ceridwen seemed to glide forward. Her hand was tiny when she reached out. "Let me touch the hilt of your sword, Melcorka."

"I will unsheathe," Melcorka began, until Ceridwen recoiled in apparent alarm. "No, Ceridwen, I mean no harm! I only intended to make it easier for you. Look…" Melcorka knelt on the ground, so the hilt of her sword was easy to grasp.

Ceridwen came cautiously closer and stopped. "It is a known blade," she said. She reached forward and touched the hilt. "Derwen made this sword," she said. "It came from long ago, and Derwen made it for Caractacus, who was betrayed by a woman. It was the blade of Calgacus, the swordsman who faced the iron legions of the south in the days of heroes." She ran her hand the length of the scabbard, without touching the steel of the blade. "It was the sword of Arthur, who faced the Saxon and now it is the sword of Melcorka.

"It was a sword well-made," Ceridwen said, "in Derwen"s forge. It was made with rich red ore, with Derwen tramping on bellows of ox-hide to blow the charcoal hot as hell ever is. The ore sank down, down through the charcoal to the lowest depth of the furnace, to form a shapeless mass the weight of a well-grown child."

Melcorka listened, trying to picture the scene when her blade was forged at the beginning of history.

"It was normal for the apprentices to take the metal to the anvil, but Derwen carried the metal for this one himself, and chose the best of the best to reheat and form into a bar. He had the bar blessed by the druids and by the holy man who came from the East, a young fugitive from Judea who fled the wrath of the Romans."

"Christ himself!" Melcorka barely breathed the name.

"It is as you say, if you say it," Ceridwen said. "And Derwen cut his choice of steel into short lengths, laid them end on end in water blessed by the holy one and the chief druid of Caractacus. Only then did he weld them together with the skill that only Derwen had. These operations working together equalised the temper of the steel, making it hard throughout, and sufficiently pliable to bend in half and spring together. Derwen tested and re-tested the blade, then hardened and sharpened it with his own touch and his own magic."

Ceridwen seemed to waver, her shape merging with that of the air around her. "At the end, in the final forging, Derwen sprinkled his own white powder of the dust of diamonds and rubies into the red-hot steel, to keep it free of rust and protect the edge."

"It is a good blade," Melcorka agreed.

"A better one will never be made," Ceridwen told her. "Only certain people can wield it, and then only for righteous reasons. It can never be used by a soft man or a weak woman, or by one with evil in his or her heart. The blade is only used for good."

"My mother told me I must only use it for the right reasons," Melcorka said.

Ceridwen smiled. "Your mother was a wise woman. She watches you."

"I miss her," Melcorka said softly. She could not say more on that subject. "How do you know about my sword?"

"It told me – and I remember Derwen making it." Ceridwen laughed at the expression on Melcorka"s face. "Or am I merely teasing you?"

"Teasing, I think," Melcorka stood up again. "But I thank you for the tale of the pedigree of the sword." She glanced at Bradan. "We have some salmon with us, and berries fresh from the bush. Would you care you join us at the table?"

Ceridwen laughed again. "It is usually my people who offer hospitality in our own home."

"Your generosity is well known," Melcorka said. "There are tales of hospitality that never ends."

Ceridwen"s smile did not falter. "The tellers of such tales may be exaggerating," she said.

"Shall we eat?" Bradan"s voice shook with a deep fear.

"We shall eat." Ceridwen"s smile included Bradan, without assuaging his dread.

"And then Melcorka and I shall be on our way," Bradan said. "We have much to do and little time in which to do it."

"That may happen, indeed," Ceridwen said.

They sat around a small fire with large leaves as plates and the herd of deer grazing unheeded within a hundred paces.

"You are afraid of me, Bradan," Ceridwen spoke softly. "Why is that?"

"You are of the People of Peace," Bradan answered honestly. "I have heard tales of men and women who were taken by your people."

"Do you think I will take you away, Bradan the Wanderer?" Ceridwen"s tone was mocking and her eyes mischievous. "I would imagine that a wanderer would wish nothing more than to wander into our realm."

"Only if we returned safely and in timely fashion," Bradan said.

"Am I that frightening?" Ceridwen finished a mouthful of salmon. "I don"t feel very frightening. After all, it is Melcorka who carries the sword of Calgacus and you who have a large staff, while I," she looked down at herself, "I have only my hands."

"I think you have a great deal more than that," Melcorka said directly. "You have knowledge and power."

"So why are you not afraid of me?" Ceridwen asked.

Melcorka shrugged. "Why should I be afraid? Would that help any? Would my fear act as a barrier to save me? Would it wrap around me as protection from any harm? Would it assist in any way?" She did not know where the words came from, only that they were genuine and were out before she could put a curb on her tongue.

"Calgacus has a worthy successor," Ceridwen said. "Only a handful of warriors have held that sword."

"Who were they?" Melcorka asked.

Ceridwen reached forward and touched Defender"s hilt again. "Caractacus of the Catuvellauni, Calgacus of the Caledonii, Arthur of Camelot, Bridei of the Picts, Kenneth MacAlpin of Alba… you know the names."

"I know these names," Melcorka agreed. "Caractacus and Calgacus fought the legions, Arthur stemmed the Saxons, Bridei defeated the Angles at Dunnichen, and Kenneth united the Scots and Picts, except for the men of Fidach…"

"All great men who did great deeds," Ceridwen said. "What will Melcorka do, I wonder?" She raised her eyebrows. "You are the first woman to carry that sword. What will you do with it?"

"Why did it come to me?" Melcorka asked. "Why to me? I am only an island girl."

Ceridwen"s laugh died immediately. "You are who you are, Melcorka. You have your parents" blood in you, and now you must forge your own legend. You chose the sword, and it chose you. That was not chance, that was destiny."

"The oystercatcher guided me."

"She did, didn"t she? Yet she only guided. You had to heed her guidance. You could have chosen the harp and a life of ease and luxury. That was your other option." Ceridwen leaned back against the bole of an apple tree. The blossom was two months early and all the more perfect for that.

"How do you know these things?" Melcorka asked.

"Rather ask yourself, what destiny will the sword of Calgacus and I forge between us?" Ceridwen held Melcorka"s gaze. "Where are you bound, Melcorka of the Cenel Bearnas, or Melcorka of Alba?"

"Fidach," Melcorka said flatly. "The Norse have overrun Alba. They have defeated the royal army and enslaved the king. They are burning and r****g their way across the country."

"So you don the blade of Calgacus and Kenneth, Arthur and Bridei to repel them." Ceridwen said. "Is that your destiny?"

"I cannot repel the Norse," Melcorka said, "I am only an island girl."

"So why are you going to Fidach?" Ceridwen was direct.

"To gather support," Melcorka said. "I am only a messenger."

"To gather support for whom?" Although Ceridwen"s voice was as gentle and precise as ever, her smile had vanished. "You said yourself that the Norse had enslaved the king. The over-king is with the Norse. To whom will the Picts of Fidach rally? For what cause will they fight?"

"For the freedom of Alba," Melcorka said.

"Why should the Picts of Fidach care about the freedom of Alba?" Ceridwen stood up. "I cannot tell you how you should proceed, or where your destiny lies. You must decide what to do and what to say when you meet the Picts, if that event occurs."

"I will try," Melcorka said quietly.

"You carry the sword." As Ceridwen moved closer, her feet were soundless on the grass. "Come with me, and I may help." Her hand was white and soft when Melcorka grasped it. "You are safe, Melcorka. You have my word that you will be back in your own realm within a short time."

"I trust you," Melcorka said.

Ceridwen"s smile enfolded her with warmth. "I know." Her touch was light as morning dew as she guided Melcorka across that verdant clearing toward a small mound in the centre. When they approached, the mound seemed to grow, until Melcorka saw an arched wooden door that swung silently open as they neared it.

"Come into my home," Ceridwen invited.

"Are we in Elfhame?" Melcorka asked.

"This is wherever you think it is." Ceridwen"s reply was cryptic. "Do you trust me?"

"I trust you," Melcorka said.

"Then keep safe in your trust." Ceridwen stepped through the arched door into a huge room full of light and laughter.

Melcorka immediately felt herself smiling, although she did not know why. She could not see the walls of the room, only a merging of golden light with a green hue that may have come from the grass above, or the plants that seemed an organic component of this place. She saw men and women dancing and singing, eating and drinking, yet she could not make out a single face or say how old they were, or how young. Everything was shaded, shifting as she watched, with the music coming from nowhere and sliding in and out of her head.

"You approve?" Ceridwen asked.

"I have never seen the like before," Melcorka said, "but yes, I approve."

Ceridwen"s laugh tinkled like a waterfall in spring. "Many people wish to stay forever."

"I can understand why they would wish to do that." Melcorka looked at a long table, covered in cloth of the finest silk and laden with the reddest apples and greenest pears she had ever seen.

A small, dimpled, smiling man appeared at her elbow. Dressed in green and with a face so handsome it was nearly feminine, he held out a tray of strawberries lying on a bed of cream.

"I will not join you." Melcorka remembered the tales Bradan had told her. "I thank you for the chance."

The man bowed and withdrew, to be replaced by others, men and women of such grace that she could not help but feel clumsy; and such beauty that she felt uglier than she had ever done in her entire life.

"Do not worry," Ceridwen spoke inside her head, "you are what you are and all the more welcome for it."

"Why am I welcome and safe when others are scared of you?"

"Because you chose danger rather than safety and neighbourliness rather than flight, and refused gold that was there for the taking." Ceridwen seemed always to speak in riddles.

Melcorka shook her head. "I do not understand."

"If you had understood the nature of the test, you would not have acted from your heart," Ceridwen said. She lifted her hand, and a handsome young man appeared at her side.

"I have seen that bag before," Melcorka said, as the man lifted a badger-skin bag.

"You could have left me, or taken my gold," the man said, "instead of choosing to help." His smile was open as he transmogrified into the old man who had been chased by wolves, then back to the appearance of youth even as Melcorka watched.

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

"Nor should you," Ceridwen told her, as the man with the badger-skin bag faded away.

"Where are you taking me?" Melcorka asked.

Ceridwen smiled over her shoulder, "I am taking you to somebody who will help you decide your path," she said. "Come this way and do not fear."

"I am not afraid." Melcorka spoke only the truth as she followed the slight figure in black-and-white.

Although she knew she had come through a doorway, Melcorka could not tell if she was inside or out as she followed Ceridwen. Her feet made no sound on the ground, nor could she feel if it was soft grass or hard stone beneath her soles. She knew she was moving, she knew she lifted her legs, yet there was no effort involved. All she was aware of was Ceridwen at her side and the clear, musical voice within her head, assuring her that she was safe as long as she kept her trust.

"Here we are," Ceridwen announced, as they entered another room that could have been inside or outside, or even up in the clouds. Melcorka heard what could have been the tinkling of bells or the laughter of happy children, she was not sure which, as three women slid from another round-headed door that appeared in a shifting wall. Side by side and holding hands, they walked toward her.

"This is Melcorka of the Cenel Bearnas," Ceridwen said.

The women on the outside were as slight, shapely and as serene as Ceridwen, yet the beauty of both paled into insignificance beside the girl who stood between them. She overtopped both by a head and had the body of a goddess, with proud breasts that strained at the thin leine that held them, and the swelling hips of newly-matured youth. She smiled at the sight of Melcorka, then quickly frowned as she saw the sword hilt protruding from behind her left shoulder.

"You carry a sword?" Her voice was as musical as Ceridwen"s, if a tone or two deeper, and as she tossed her head, her auburn hair made a shimmering halo around her head.

About to explain, Melcorka remembered something of her mother"s teachings. Be polite to strangers, Bearnas had always said, and expect politeness in return.

Be polite to strangersand expect politeness in return"I am Melcorka Nic Bearnas." She repeated Ceridwen"s words. "What should I call you?"

"Oh!" the girl covered her mouth with her hand. "I am so sorry! I meant no offence, but I have never seen a sword before. I am Maelona."

Melcorka smiled her forgiveness. The girl had been surprised, not meaningfully rude. "Maelona is a lovely name," she said. "It means divine princess, I think?"

Maelona glanced at the woman to her right, who nodded.

"I did not know what my name meant," Maelona said. "Thank you, Melcorka. Your name is also lovely. What does it mean?"

"I do not know," Melcorka admitted frankly. "Nobody ever told me!" She could not keep herself from laughing, which Maelona immediately joined in.

"Her full name is Maelona Nic Ellen," Ceridwen spoke softly, with her hazel eyes fixed on those of Melcorka.

"Maelona Nic Ellen." Melcorka repeated the name dutifully. "Maelona, daughter of Ellen." The significance of the words did not immediately register. "I only ever knew of one Ellen, and she was a queen… and you are a divine princess?" She stopped as a possible truth hit her. "Oh, sweet Mary, mother of Christ. Are you that girl?"

"Maelona is that girl," Ceridwen agreed.

Melcorka felt a flutter of excitement. "So the old tales were correct," she said. "The People of Peace ran off with the real princess and left a substitute in her place."

Ceridwen glided over to Maelona. "She is a princess without a realm," she said, "but a princess no less."

"I have never met a princess before," Melcorka said. Unsure what to do, she knelt down. "I am your servant, your highness."

"What do you mean?" Maelona looked confused. "Whose servant? Stand up, Melcorka. What game is this?"

Ceridwen stepped back with a small smile twitching the corner of her mouth. She said nothing as Maelona reached out and helped Melcorka to her feet.

"I do not want people kneeling before me," Maelona said. "I only want people to be as happy as I am." She held Melcorka"s hand. "Why do you carry that sword?"

"Because your realm is in danger, your highness," Melcorka told her. "The Norsemen are everywhere."

"My realm? What do you mean? I have no realm." Maelona looked very confused.

"We will explain," Ceridwen said softly. "Now, say farewell to Melcorka."

"Will we meet again?" Maelona sounded very young, although she must have been in Elfhame since before Melcorka was born.

"You may," Ceridwen said. "That depends on the actions of Melcorka."

"I am not sure I understand," Melcorka said.

"Trust your guide," Ceridwen said, "and follow your instincts." She looked into Melcorka"s eyes. "You would be wise not to mention this to your companion. His fear of us controls him. If he knew what you had seen, he would include you in that fear, and you have not yet fulfilled your destiny with him."

"I will do as you advise." Melcorka was still talking when the two silent women guided Maelona away, and Ceridwen ushered her through the feasting company to the clearing in the woods, where Bradan sat alone under the copse of oak trees.

"Will we get to Fidach?" Bradan asked. He seemed unaware that Melcorka had been absent.

Ceridwen smiled. "I cannot tell your future," she said. "You must create that yourself."

"That is not what I meant," Bradan said.

"I know." Ceridwen smiled again. "You will leave this realm with my peace and in safety." She touched Melcorka very gently on the arm. "We will meet again. Prove worthy of your sword. And trust your instincts."

"We should go now," Bradan whispered, "before she changes her mind."

"It will be all right," Melcorka said. When she turned back, Ceridwen had vanished. There was a blur above her as an oystercatcher flew upward, its red beak pointing her way and its wings black and white.