Falcon Warrior E-Book

Malcolm Archibald

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Sailing west across the Atlantic, Melcorka and Bradan encounter a strange woman entombed within an iceberg.

On her is a headband decorated with the symbol of a falcon. Soon after, they meet a fleet of Norse ships and set sail with them towards the New World.

Fighting their way through skraeling hordes and facing the mysterious Ice Giant, they find the ancient pyramid city of Cahokia. But what is the secret of the strange falcon artifact?

This is a standalone novel and can be enjoyed even if you haven't read other books in the series.

Leseprobe

Falcon Warrior

The Swordswoman Book III

Malcolm Archibald

Copyright (C) 2017 Malcolm Archibald

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

Edited by Lorna Read

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

For Cathy

Venient annis saeula seris Quibus oceanus vincula rerum Laxet, et ingens pateat tellus, Tethysque novus detegat orbes: Nec sit terries ultima Thule

In later years the age shall come When the Ocean will unloose the bonds of nature And the vast earth will stretch out, And the sea will disclose new worlds: Nor will the globe be utmost bound by Thule Seneca: Medea, Act II, v. 371

Chapter One

The wind came from the south and east, driving Catriona onward into a never-ending waste of sea, as it had done for days past and probably would do for days to come.

'How long has this storm lasted?' Bradan shook water from his hair, only for another wave to crash against Catriona's high prow and splatter him with a fresh supply of spindrift.

Sitting in the stern with her right hand fixed on the tiller, Melcorka shrugged. 'I do not know. Does it matter? If we were not here, we would be somewhere else.'

'I would prefer to be somewhere else rather than in a small boat in the middle of the Western Ocean.'

Melcorka glanced around. 'It is better to journey with hope than to arrive at disappointment,' she said. 'And as long as we are miserable in Catriona, we are alive.' She grinned. 'Would you prefer we were under the water than on top of it?'

'I would rather I had my feet on solid land,' Bradan said. 'We have seen nothing but waves for weeks now.'

Melcorka smiled. 'Oh, Bradan the Wanderer! It was you who wanted to venture out of Alba. It was you who wished to find the lands where grow the strange fruits that wash up on Alba's western coasts.'

'I know that,' Bradan agreed.

'And here we are, sailing to find your exotic lands.'

Bradan gave a rueful grin. 'Indeed. I'll keep quiet now and allow you to enjoy our pleasure cruise in the endless ocean and when we fall over the end of the earth, you will remind me that this was entirely my fault.'

'Of course I will,' Melcorka told him. She shook her head, so the hood of her travelling cloak flicked off and her long black hair tossed around madly in the gale. 'I wonder what it will be like to fall off the end of the world?'

'I spoke to a very wise old druid about that very matter once,' Bradan said seriously.

'I remember,' Melcorka said. 'That caused us all sorts of trouble.'

'There is no trouble that you cannot handle,' Bradan said. 'This druid, Abaris, told me all the wonders of the world, but alas, my mind could only retain a fraction of the information.'

'Minds are like that,' Melcorka said.

'But there is one thing I do remember,' Bradan said. He lowered his voice, but she could still hear him despite the howling of the storm. 'The world is not flat, it is round, so if a man…'

'Or a woman,' Melcorka interrupted.

'Or a woman – I was about to say that. If a man or a woman keeps going in any direction, he or she will eventually end up back where they started.'

Melcorka laughed. 'I can't see the point in that,' she said. 'What is the sense in going for a long journey, just to arrive back at your starting place?'

'For the adventure,' Bradan said, 'and for the experiences… the places you see, the different people you meet, the strange lands and cultures!'

'So why are you complaining?' Melcorka asked sweetly. She looked around. 'Here, we are surrounded by strange… water.' She laughed again. 'At least we have the adventure of the voyage.'

'What's that?' Bradan pointed ahead. 'I think we have another sort of adventure about to start.'

Melcorka peered into the storm, where great, grey-green waves rose higher than their spiralling mast, with the tops curling, spewing silver-white spindrift and then swooping down toward Catriona like some roaring monster from the deep. 'I can only see waves … No, wait… You're right, Bradan. There is something there.'

There was something behind the waves, something vast and shining; something so strange that Melcorka could not believe what she saw. 'It's a mountain of glass, right in the middle of the ocean.'

'It's moving,' Bradan said. 'It's a floating island of glass.'

'We'll try and go round it.' Melcorka struggled to push the tiller to the left, fighting the power of the wind and waves. Catriona protested against the alteration of course; with her stern no longer directly in the wind and waves, water poured in over her port quarter to rush knee-high, the length of the boat.

'She doesn't like this,' Bradan said.

'It's either this or ram into that.' Melcorka nodded toward the great island of ice that was rapidly approaching them. She pushed the tiller harder, so Catriona heeled further over and shipped even more water, which swirled around their legs.

'I don't know about us ramming into it,' Bradan said. 'I do know that it is trying to ram us. Look at the thing! It's going against the wind. I've never seen the like.'

Melcorka nodded. The massive mountain of glass was ignoring the wind as it surged toward them, its great pinnacles thrusting aside the waves in great white spumes of foam and spindrift. 'Nor have I. Maybe there is somebody on board it. It could be a type of ship up here.'

The glass mountain was closer now and much taller than Catriona's mast. It soared two hundred, three hundred feet high, whitely translucent with jagged peaks on top and a base of green-blue embedded with small pebbles.

'That's not glass,' Bradan said. 'It's ice! That is a floating mountain of ice!'

'I've never heard of that before.' Melcorka stared at the thing that came toward them. 'I did not know the sea could get that cold.'

'Nor did I.' Bradan stared at the thing. 'And it's still coming toward us at great speed.'

Waves splintered against the base of the ice mountain, sending spray and spindrift high in the air, to blow back against Catriona, splattering against the wooden hull and into the faces of Bradan and Melcorka.

'We're going to hit it!' Bradan shouted.

A wave lifted Catriona high in the air, just as the ice mountain dipped into the trough of the swell, so when the sea threw them, they landed thirty feet up the sheer ice wall.

'Hold on!' Bradan grabbed Melcorka as Catriona crashed against the solid ice. 'Careful, Mel!' They ducked as the ship heeled violently to larboard and began to slide slowly toward the sea.

'We're going back down!' Melcorka yelled. Catriona scraped down the edge of the ice, losing slices of her outer planking and landing with a mighty bang on a ledge barely broad enough to accommodate the hull. The boat swayed, nearly toppled over and righted herself, to sit precariously on the narrow shelf above the churning sea with her mast at an acute angle.

'What happens now?' Melcorka looked over the side of Catriona, shrugged and smiled at Bradan. 'I've never been in quite this position before, stuck on an ice mountain in the middle of the sea.'

'I doubt that many people have,' Bradan said. 'I've never heard of such a thing.' He returned Melcorka's smile. 'Well, we wanted new experiences, and here we are. At least we're safe here.'

'And stuck. We could stay here until this mountain melts, I suppose.'

'Or until the storm subsides. We're not too far from the surface of the sea. We can just slide Catriona down. She is the most stable ship I have ever sailed in.'

'Just settle down then,' Melcorka said. 'And wait.'

She smoothed a hand along the tiller and watched the mighty waves rise and fall. Patience was not typically one of her strongest virtues, but travelling with Bradan had matured her. Now, she sat back in the stern and allowed herself to relax amidst the howling wind and the crash of waves against the floating mountain of ice.

'We are not alone, you know,' Bradan said, some time later. 'We are being watched.'

Melcorka scanned what she could see of the horizon. 'Either you are talking about a whale under the water or a bird above, but I can see neither.' She looked at Defender, the large sword that accompanied her everywhere. 'I hope you are not referring to seals. I have seen enough seals to last me forever.' She recalled her battles with seals and selkies before they had left Scotland.

'No,' Bradan said, 'I am not referring to a seal, a whale or a bird. I am referring to a full-grown woman.'

'Oh?' Melcorka frowned. 'I can't see a ship, either.'

'She is not in a ship,' Bradan said quietly, 'she is only a few feet from you right at this minute, and she is watching everything that you do.'

This time, Melcorka's hand stroked the hilt of Defender, savouring the thrill of power that the sword always gave her. 'Where is this woman?' she asked quietly.

'Look to your left,' Bradan said.

'There is nothing there but ice.' Melcorka looked to her left and smiled again. 'And that woman sitting inside the ice.'

'I think she is dead,' Bradan said. 'At least, she looks dead to me.'

Entombed within her prison of ice, the woman sat on a carved wooden stool with her elbow on her knee and her chin cupped in her hand. Her face was a tawny copper colour, and she wore a bright green tunic decorated with the likeness of a black falcon, with a beaded band around her forehead.

Melcorka pressed her face against the ice so she could see better. The woman's eyes were open and her headband was decorated with the same engraved falcon in the centre of a white circlet. Melcorka looked directly into her eyes and knew there had been profound wisdom there once, and some deep power that she could not understand. 'Now, where did she come from, I wonder?' Melcorka mused.

'We could ask her,' Bradan suggested.

'I doubt she would tell us much. I wonder who she was and how she got inside the ice mountain?'

'I doubt we will ever know,' Bradan said. 'Perhaps there is a race of people that live inside the ice?'

'You should know. You are the man who got all the wisdom of the druids.' Melcorka looked upward as a chunk of ice the size of a human head slid down the exterior of the mountain and landed in the sea. The resulting splash showered Catriona with cold water.

'Aye, it's already beginning to melt,' Bradan said. Leaning over the gunwale, he ran his hand across the surface of the ice and showed it to Melcorka. 'See? It's wet. I think there must be a lot of ice in the north, where it is colder than here. The further south this mountain drifts, the warmer it gets and the more it will melt.'

'We may go north sometime and see your ice,' Melcorka said, 'but at present, this ocean current is taking us south and west.' She settled down. 'I am going to sleep until something happens. Good night, Bradan.' She faced the woman in the ice. 'Good night, strange woman.'

Next morning brought the sun, stronger than it had been for some days. Melcorka watched as water droplets oozed down the outside of the ice mountain, merging to form a constant stream that poured into the sea from the lip of the ledge where Catriona sat.

'Our ice island is getting smaller by the minute,' Bradan said. 'If this continues, we'll soon be back on the waves again.' He nodded to the woman in the ice. 'All three of us.'

'I still wonder who she was,' Melcorka said, 'and where she came from. I have never seen a woman of her colouring before.'

Bradan nodded. 'I have heard that there are black people and brown people and people of all sorts of colours in this world.'

Melcorka pondered that information for a moment before she replied. 'So there are green people and red people and blue people?' She shook her head. 'I don't believe a word of it. I am more interested in finding out how this woman got to be within the ice and in making sure that we don't end up the same way.'

Bradan ducked as a large chunk of ice detached itself from the side of the mountain and crashed into the sea. It floated alongside for a few moments, clunking and clinking until it spun away on some sub-current.

'This thing is melting away,' Bradan said. 'I don't think we have to worry about being frozen in.' He pushed at the ice beside him. 'We'll be able to shake hands with this lady soon.'

'Let's do just that.' Melcorka unsheathed her dirk, the long fighting knife of the Gael, and hacked into the ice. 'We might find out more about her if we meet her properly.'

'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.

Chapter Two

They saw the mountains the next day, seemingly floating above the horizon, white with snow, as serrated as a broken saw and taller than any they had seen in Alba.

'So Greenland has white mountains,' Bradan said.

'Green and white land, then.' Melcorka watched the Norse flotilla tighten around them as they sailed closer to this new land. Erik waved to them until Frakkok snapped something to him and he turned rapidly away. 'Erik is scared of her.'

'I've never seen a scared Norseman before,' Bradan said.

'Nor have I.' Melcorka watched the young Norseman as he made minute adjustments to the sail. 'Nor have I,' she repeated thoughtfully.

They pushed on toward Greenland with the sea calm and the wind light. Patches of mist drifted across the sea, dissipating, reforming, altering Melcorka's perception, so she was unsure of distances and objects until a faint sun burned the sea clear, revealing Greenland.

The mountains were in the background, how far away Melcorka could not tell; white and sharply serrated, they rose as a backdrop to a land that was otherwise drab brown with patches of lovat-green and as many rocks as any island in the Outer Hebrides.

'I can't see much green here,' Bradan said.

'There are no green men, then.' Melcorka sat at the tiller, steering to make the best of the fluky wind. 'That is a pity. I was quite looking forward to seeing a green man.'

They sailed up a small inlet, with tumbled, lichen-stained rocks on both sides and clear water speckled with floating ice beneath their hull, until they came to the inlet's head, where the ground levelled out. There was brown moorland scattered with rocks, looking very similar to the landscape of North West Alba, a handful of scrubby trees and a scattered settlement backed by square fields. A score of cattle grazed in the fields, watched by a few young boys, while men in baggy trousers worked at digging out the moorland to create more arable land.

'It is very peaceful, this Greenland.' Bradan looked around. 'These men are not carrying swords, and their spears are all piled at the end of the fields, a two-minute run away. It's also a bit far for raiding Vikings to sail, or even Caterans.'

'It is peaceful,' Melcorka agreed. 'But there is smoke coming over that ridge there.'

'I can't see it.'

'Nor can I. Smell the air.' Melcorka said. 'And look at the ridge. Everywhere else is clear while it is hazy. There is smoke there.'

The Norse fleet sailed in as if they knew the place intimately and drew up on a shallow shingle beach a few yards below the settlement. Within a few moments, the men splashed into the water as they began to unload the livestock. There was the sound of lowing cattle and neighing horses, laughing men and the high-pitched screech of excited children. Some women greeted the men with hugs; others were more passionate while a few watched with disappointment or anticipation. Erik stood alone and slightly forlorn as Frakkok snapped rapid orders.

'They've been here before,' Melcorka said. 'This is a return visit.' She steered Catriona toward the beach, close to the Norse vessels but not alongside them. 'I still don't trust these people,' she said, as Bradan looked questioningly at her.

'Aye.' Bradan nodded. 'It's sensible to keep some distance until we're sure.'

They crunched onto the pebbly beach, where small wavelets softly splashed and the sound of seabirds competed with the lowing of cattle. A man lifted a hand in quiet greeting to them before helping unload the larger Norse ships. Melcorka stepped ashore and staggered. After weeks at sea, the land seemed to sway underneath her.

'Come along, you two.' With nobody apparently willing to greet him, Erik strode toward them, hand outstretched in welcome and sword at his hip. 'I'll show you around our little settlement of Frakkoksfjord.'

'That would be kind of you.' Bradan placed a hand on Melcorka's shoulder before she opened her mouth to refuse. 'We'd like to see this place. I thought Tir nan Og was over the sea, not this Greenland.'

Erik's laugh sounded genuine. 'Do you like the name? My namesake Erik the Red called it Greenland to encourage settlers here.'

'I like the name,' Bradan said.

'Are you burning the heather to make new fields?' Melcorka was more direct than Bradan.

Erik frowned. 'Not to my knowledge…' He looked around.

'There is fire over there.' Melcorka pointed to the ridge on the north. She touched the hilt of Defender and immediately felt the heightening of her senses. 'And somebody is shouting.'

'I'll have a look.' Erik said. 'If you will excuse me?' He strode toward the ridge.

Melcorka watched him curiously.

'He seems friendly enough,' Bradan said. 'He's invited us to his settlement and showed no hostility at all.'

'Not yet,' Melcorka said. 'He's too polite for a Norseman.'

Erik was three hundred paces away and moving fast. Melcorka did not see why he hesitated and looked back over his shoulder. 'Skraelings!' His voice was louder than Melcorka had expected. 'The Skraelings are attacking us!'

'What in the name of God is a Skraeling?' Bradan lifted the rowan-wood staff that was the only weapon he carried.

'I don't know,' Melcorka said, 'but I think we're about to find out.'

Erik's words were spread from man to man and woman to woman, so that nearly all the adults in the settlement grabbed a weapon and rushed to join him. While warriors carried sword, spear or axe, slaves and women hefted staffs or even brooms.

'We are guests here,' Bradan reminded. 'We must follow the rules of hospitality.'

'I know.' Melcorka was already hurrying after Erik. 'Our hosts' fight is our fight, his enemies are our enemies and his friends are our friends. Whoever these Skraelings are, by tradition, they are now our enemies.'

'I am no fighting man,' Bradan reminded her.

'And I am no lover of the Norse,' Melcorka said. 'Yet I will join them in this fight. Stay behind if you must, Bradan. I will think no worse of you.'

'I know that.' Bradan matched her step for step as she hurried to the ridge.

Of the hundred or so people in Frakkoksfjord, nearly all surged forward. Only when she neared the summit of the ridge did Melcorka unsheathe Defender and, as always, the surge of power made her tingle and gasp. She savoured that feeling for only a second.

'Come on, Skraelings!' Melcorka shouted. 'Come on and die!'

From the crest of the ridge, they viewed an undulating, slowly rising plain of heather and scrub, scattered with rectangular, stone-built houses in the manner of the Norse and with small fields that the Norse had newly hacked from the surrounding ground.

Three of the houses were on fire, with smoke belching from the rough thatch and orange flames flickering from the small, square windows. Three people lay on the ground, with others running toward them, screaming in fear. Melcorka remembered the villages in Scotland that had been attacked by the Norse, and she wondered how these people liked being on the receiving end for a change. Only then did she look at the attackers. They were unlike anything that she had seen before.

Dressed in a mixture of furs, they were smallish in stature, with bulky bodies and tanned faces with slitted eyes. They moved fast and fired arrows from small bows, or carried long spears with barbed points.

'This is not your fight!' Erik said quickly. 'You are our guest.'

'In my culture,' Melcorka said calmly, 'guests adopt the enemies of their hosts. Your enemies are now my enemies.' She felt the smile stretch across her face. 'Come, Norseman – let's kill these Skraelings together!'

Erik's smile matched that of Melcorka. 'I wondered if you could use that sword,' he said. 'Come, then.' He advanced without another word, stepping sideways to ensure that both had sufficient space in which to fight.

Melcorka counted over two hundred Skraelings. They advanced in a semi-circle that outflanked the ragged ranks of the Norse and fired a constant stream of arrows as they moved. To Melcorka's right, a man yelled as an arrow sliced into his face. He grabbed at the shaft and shouted again as another slammed into his arm. Staggering, he dropped his sword, and more arrows landed on him, thudding into his chest and kidneys. He screamed again and fell, writhing on the ground.

Melcorka spared him one glance and looked toward the Skraelings. 'Do you have a strategy, Erik?'

'I haven't had time,' Erik said.

'So we just kill as many of them as we can,' Melcorka said.

'That sounds like a good plan,' Erik agreed.

'So be it.' Melcorka hefted her sword and faced the oncoming Skraelings.

Feeling the power and skill of Defender's previous owners surging through her, Melcorka ran toward the centre of the Skraeling ranks. She saw the first arrow whistling toward her and sliced it from the air, watching the two halves fall harmlessly to the ground.

A Skraeling fitted another arrow to his bow but before he could draw, Melcorka reached him. She swung Defender in a short arc that ended with the blade hacking at the man's neck. Propelled by jets of blood, the Skraeling's head sprang up, only to fall, bounce on the ground and roll over and over until it ended up in a shallow indentation.

Deflecting another arrow that zipped toward her, Melcorka hacked downward at the next Skraeling, neatly removing his arm, altered the angle of her blade to chop at another man's legs and then stepped over the screaming casualties to charge into a group of archers, scattering them left and right before her blood-smeared blade.

'Odin! Odin owns you! Odin!' The Norse battle-cry erupted around her as the Norsemen charged forward to roll up the left flank of the Skraelings. There were a few moments of frantic chopping with swords and thrusting with spears, and then the Skraelings broke and ran. There was no attempt at defence; one minute they were there and the next they were gone, fleeing northward with the more forward of the Norse pursuing them and a few arrows chasing them in their retreat.

Melcorka watched, frowning. 'These Skraelings were no warriors,' she said. 'They ran the minute we attacked them.'

'Thank you for your help.' Erik was panting as he cleaned blood from the blade of his sword.

'It was my duty as a guest.' Melcorka glanced around. Bradan was safe, leaning on his staff as he surveyed the scene of the one-sided skirmish.

Erik nodded. 'You fight well.'

'Who are these people?' Melcorka gestured to the bodies of the men she had killed. The Norse were busily engaged in disposing of the wounded with neither compassion nor relish. They killed each man quickly.

'Skraelings.' Erik shrugged. 'They sometimes come from the north and attack our farms. Sometimes we kill them, sometimes they kill us, but I've never known them to come in such numbers before.'

'Maybe they have a reason.' Bradan put his staff across the writhing body of the nearest still-living Skraeling, defending him from a squat and ugly Norseman. 'Rather than kill all these men who are no longer a threat to you, we could ask why they attacked the settlement.'

'Why do we care?' Erik seemed surprised at the idea. 'If they come, they come. If they don't, then they don't. What does it matter?'

'If there is a reason,' Bradan said patiently, 'you and the Skraelings might work out a way of living in peace together.'

'Why?' Erik asked. 'We are Norsemen. We are used to war.'

'There are only a handful of you,' Melcorka explained patiently. 'If you lose a few people with each encounter, soon there will not be enough of you remaining to defend yourselves against a larger number of attackers.'

Erik shrugged. 'We could do that. Bring him back to Frakkoksfjord and we'll ask him. We can kill him later.'

His callousness did not surprise Melcorka. 'Or you could let him live and send him back to his people as proof that you are peace-loving Norsemen.' She tried to keep the irony out of her voice.

'Why?' Erik sounded genuinely surprised.

'For the same reason. So that your people will not be killed as they care for their animals.' Bradan indicated the dead Norse farmers. 'There is more to being a leader than possessing a bloody sword.'

Erik shrugged again. 'Bring him to Frakkoksfjord then, although Fate decides who lives and dies, not you and I.'

Melcorka threw Bradan a 'told-you-so' look and ensured the Norse were relatively gentle with their prisoner as they carried him back to the settlement.

Frakkok looked surprised when the Norsemen brought back a live Skraeling. 'What do you intend doing with that? First, you take in strays from the sea, and now you keep Skraelings alive.' She poked at the wounded man with her foot. 'Burn it.'

Erik nodded. 'We will, Mother. After we have asked it why the Skraelings attacked the settlement.'

'It would be better to ask where the Skraeling village is, so you can destroy it and grab their lands.'

Erik glanced from Bradan to Frakkok and back. 'I'll do that,' he said.

'No.' Frakkok's voice was soft and sinister. 'I'll do that.' Lifting the wounded Skraeling by the hair, she snapped an order that saw two men run forward and rip off the man's clothes. Melcorka watched dispassionately; she had no love for cruelty but had seen too much to worry unduly about it.

Stripped of his furs, the Skraeling was stocky, with shining, tawny skin and a bleeding sword-slash across his ribs. Bradan reached into the small pack he carried over his shoulder, took out a pad of moss and pressed it against the wound. 'That will stop the bleeding,' he said, 'and make sure the devil does not get in to poison you.'

'Bring fire,' Frakkok said quietly. She watched as the Norsemen made a small fire within a circle of boulders. They piled up driftwood and brought smouldering rushes over. Within a few moments, flames were licking knee-high. The Skraeling coughed as smoke curled around his face. He did not look scared as Frakkok ordered him to be brought closer, although it was evident that she intended something unpleasant.

'Why did you attack us?' Frakkok asked bluntly. 'If you tell me, I will have you killed quickly. If you don't, I will straddle you across the fire and ask again as you burn.'

The Skraeling looked at the fire and then at Frakkok. He decided that she was in earnest. 'The Ice King,' he said.

'The Ice King,' Bradan repeated. 'Who or what is the Ice King?'

'He rules the North,' the Skraeling said. 'He's guarded by fierce animals and cannibals from the other world.'

'I see.' Bradan glanced at Melcorka. 'Why do we always end up with monsters?'

She shook her head. 'That seems to be our fate.'

'It is not a fate I like.' Bradan grunted and spoke to the Skraeling again. 'Did the Ice King order you to attack the Norse?'

The Skraeling looked at the fire again. Now, it was larger, with flames that leapt waist-high. 'Will you let me live?'

'I have no intention of killing you,' Bradan said. 'I hope that Frakkok will show the same mercy if you help us.' He turned to face Frakkok. 'Will you allow this man to live?'

Frakkok grunted. 'He may live,' she said. 'I won't kill him.'

'There you are, Master Skraeling. You have your life,' Bradan said.

The Skraeling stepped back slightly from the fire. 'The Ice King did not order us to attack the strangers. The Ice King is pushing on our hunting territories. We need the land where the pale strangers are.'

'What is this Ice King like?' Frakkok seemed to be interested at last.

'I don't know,' the Skraeling said. 'Nobody has ever seen him. We only know that he lives in the North with his animals and foreign man-eaters.'

'You have told us all that you know, then?' Frakkok asked.

The Skraeling nodded.

'He has fulfilled his part,' Bradan said. 'Now you must keep yours.'

'Why in Odin's name would I do that?' Frakkok sounded surprised. She raised her voice. 'Throw him in the fire!'

'You gave your word!' Bradan stepped forward.

Frakkok turned aside and walked away. Three Norsemen grabbed hold of the Skraeling, lifted him high and dumped him in the middle of the fire. Sparks and fragments of burning wood sputtered past the containing boulders and sizzled on the coarse grass.

'No! Let the man live!' Bradan stepped forward, to see half a dozen Norsemen slide their swords free of their scabbards.

Melcorka put a hand on Bradan's arm. 'No, Bradan. This is not our concern. We don't know how this settlement works.'

'I told that man he would live!' Bradan shivered as the Skraeling began to scream.