Chapter One
They saw the light an hour before the dawn, so bright that it outshone the stars, so high that it could only be a messenger from God.
“What's that?” Melcorka squinted upwards.
“I don't know.” Bradan said. He rested on the oars, adjusted the set of the sails to catch a non-existent wind and stared into the starry abyss of the night-time sky. “It's a comet, I think. I've heard of such things although I've never seen one before.”
The ball of light progressed slowly across the heavens, dragging a glowing trail in its wake. There was no sound except the slap of waves against the hull.
“I have heard that it's a warning of troubled times.” Bradan looked up as a sudden breeze breathed life into the sail.
Melcorka shook her head. “If that were so,” she said, “there would be many more comets, since times are always troubled.”
“You're getting cynical in your old age,” Bradan said as the sail bellied out, pushing Catriona faster through the waves. He heard the distant call of a bird, but of what variety he was not sure.
For some time, they watched the strange light ease across the sky, then Bradan settled to sleep as Melcorka remained at the tiller, keeping Catriona's bow to the oncoming waves. Eventually she, too, dozed, only to be woken by the sharp piping of an oystercatcher, the black-and-white bird that was Melcorka's totem.
“Welcome to dawn,” Bradan had taken over at the tiller. “That light is still there.”
“So it is.” Melcorka looked skyward, where the light remained brilliant as it slowly headed towards the west. “We have company, I see.”
A pair of oystercatchers circled the boat, their red beaks open as they emitted their distinctive piping calls.
“They joined us as dawn broke.” Bradan stretched his long, lean body. “I think they want to tell us something.”
“My oystercatchers.” Melcorka watched them with a faint smile. “The old folk knew them as guides of St Bride.” The birds circled again, flew half a mile to the west and returned. “Follow the birds, Bradan. It seems that they're guiding us back to Alba. How long is it since we left? About 10 years?”
“It must be, perhaps more. I never keep count of time.” Bradan touched the tiller, easing Catriona to larboard, the direction where the birds were urging them.
Melcorka nodded ahead, where seagulls clouded near the surface of the water. “These gulls never stray far from the coast, so we should sight land soon.”
“Take the tiller,” Bradan said and climbed the slender mast. He balanced near the top, peering ahead. “You're right, Melcorka. I can see the hills of Alba.”
As it slowly probed above the horizon, the distant blue smear of Alba woke countless emotions in Melcorka. She remembered her childhood as a naïve girl on a small island off the west coast. She remembered the day of revelation when she was introduced to Defender and realised she came from a line of female warriors. She remembered the terrible day Egil the Norseman had killed her mother, and she knew she was alone in the world, with a destiny she was unsure how to follow. She remembered the day she had met Bradan, a wandering man who carried only a staff. She remembered battles with the Norse, and later adventures with the Shining One until she and Bradan left the shores of Alba in Catriona.
“Are you all right, Mel?”
Melcorka nodded. “I was thinking of past times in Alba.”
Bradan nodded. “Aye, good and bad, eh?”
“Good and bad,” Melcorka agreed. Once again, she saw herself lying on that sandy ground, with a tall man standing over her and Bradan walking away with another woman.
“More good than bad,” Bradan hauled in one of their fishing lines. “Haddock for breakfast,” he announced, “and we're nearly home. This will be a good day.”
Melcorka forced a smile. “Today will be a good day,” she repeated. She tried to push away the sense of foreboding that pressed down on her.
* * *
The oystercatchers guided them to a sandy bay backed by low cliffs, with the sweet scent of peat smoke a reminder of friendly hearths and a warm welcome. Catriona beached with a gentle hiss as if she knew she was home after a decade of wandering the oceans and rivers of half the world. Surf broke silver-white around them, gently sliding away with a receding tide as nesting kittiwakes squawked from the cliffs.
“Well met, Melcorka and Bradan.” A tall man strode to meet them with his long cloak flapping around his ankles and his long face animated. The oystercatchers circled his head, piping happily.
“Well met, tall man.” Melcorka lifted Defender from the waterproof case in which it travelled and fastened it across her shoulders as Bradan attended to the sail and dragged Catriona above the high-water mark. “Who are you, and how do you know our names?”
“I sent for you,” the man indicated the two oystercatchers. “These are my messengers.”
Securing Catriona, Bradan lifted his rowan-wood staff. “You are no ordinary man.”
“People will know me as True Thomas.” The tall man stopped beside a line of dark seaweed while the oystercatchers pecked around his sandaled feet.
“People will know you as True Thomas? What do they know you as now?” Melcorka stopped a long pace from the tall man.
True Thomas smiled. “They don't know me at all,” he said. “I shall not be born for 200 years.”
“That's a clever trick.” Melcorka did not sense any threat from this man.
After weeks at sea, the beach seemed to sway around Bradan. Pressing his staff into the sand, he rested his thumb on the carved cross on the top. “What do you wish with us, True Thomas?”
“I wish you to accompany me to a battle,” True Thomas said. “Catriona will be safe here. She will turn up if you need her again.”
Melcorka touched her sword. “We've been in a few battles,” she said, “but Bradan is not a fighting man.”
“I know. But you are Melcorka the Swordswoman.” Without
