“Melcorka!” Bradan took a step forward.
“No, Bradan!” Melcorka shouted. “Stay there!”
“Yes, Melcorka.” Erik said. “Keep your dog under control. He need not die as well.”
Bradan felt his heartbeat increase. He was aware of the grey man sliding a hand deeper inside his bag; he was mindful of the wind that plucked at Melcorka's cloak as she stood with her back to the drop, but mostly he was aware of the way her chin thrust forward and her refusal to accept her fear. Bradan was never more proud of Melcorka than he was at that moment.
Melcorka glanced at the void behind her. “You have a good sword,” she said calmly.
“It was Loki's blade,” Erik said. “Loki, the wicked jester of Asgard. He had Hel make this sword for him, from all the evil in the realm of death. It counters yours, does it not? Legbiter is Defender's antithesis, whatever good your sword pretends to have, Legbiter counters.”
“Did he give it to you in person?” Melcorka tensed her muscles.
“Yes.” Erik said. “He swapped the blade of my sword for his.”
Erik smiled again as Melcorka began a furious attack that forced him back half a dozen steps. “Well done, Swordswoman! You fight well when your life is at stake.”
“And your life, Erik!” Melcorka parried a lunge at her head, gasped as the spike on Erik's shield nicked her arm and tried a sweep at Erik's legs. He blocked with ease, with the shock of Legbiter on Defender sending a wave of pain through Melcorka's arms.
“That's my move, Swordswoman,” Erik said. “I am the leg biter here.” Twisting his sword free of Defender, he threw his shield at Melcorka's face, ducked low and drew his blade across her left thigh.
Melcorka gasped at the sudden pain, swept Defender to the right and pushed Legbiter away.
“Legbiter has bitten,” Erik crowed, stepping back. “You'll die now, Melcorka. You will die in slow agony. Nobody survives Legbiter's caress.”
“No!” When Melcorka attempted to step forward, her left leg collapsed under her and she lay on the harsh grass. Unable to stand, she tried to swing Defender at Erik, as he remained out of reach, smiling.
“As you die, think of me, Melcorka. Think of me in my victory.” Stepping forward, Erik took his sword and sliced high up on Melcorka's right leg, opening another long gash. “Goodbye, Swordswoman – you will die slowly up here. Your story ends in defeat, as your mother's did.”
“Mel!” Ignoring the grey man, Bradan lunged at Erik with his staff. Erik laughed.
“You never were a fighting man, Bradan.” Erik blocked Bradan's clumsy swing with ease, tripped him with an outstretched leg and smashed him over the head with the flat of his sword. He stood, smiling, as Bradan lay dazed on the ground. “I could kill you, Bradan, but instead, I will let you live. You can watch Melcorka bleed to death and then remain here, to go mad with loneliness beside the rotting copse of your woman.”
Face down on the rough grass, Bradan could only watch as Erik sheathed his sword and walked toward Melcorka. Swooping, Erik reached for Defender, swore as he touched the hilt and jerked his hand back. He tried a second time, swore louder, shook his hand as if in pain and landed a solid kick on Melcorka's ribs, as if in revenge. When he tried and failed to lift Defender a third time, he kicked Melcorka again and stalked away.
Lying stunned on the turf, Bradan saw the grey man remove his hand from his bag and follow Erik until both vanished into the dark. Bradan reached for Melcorka, touched her outstretched hand, and drifted into unconsciousness.
Chapter Five
“I am Erik Egilsson!” Erik lifted his sword high as he shouted out his name. The darkness around welcomed him, protecting him from all harm. Kissing Legbiter”s black blade, Erik replaced it in its scabbard. “Loki! I am here, Loki! I have done your bidding!”
He stood in a depression in the ground, with his bare feet deep in the soil and the grey man 10 paces from him. “I am Erik Egilsson! Can you hear me, Loki?”
Shapeless in the night, the being emerged from the ground around. “Did you kill the woman?” His voice was deep, his breath hot as he enveloped the depression, forming all around Erik.
“Yes, Loki.” Erik sunk to one knee. “I killed the woman.”
“Good. Give me her sword.” Loki thrust out an arm that looked like smoke, with a slender hand that dripped deeper darkness into the night. Loki's fingers were long and rough.
“I do not have her sword,” Loki said.
The hand withdrew, and a blast of pure heat knocked Erik on to his back. “You do not have the sword?”
“No, Master,” Erik said.
“Where is it?” The words formed in Erik's head, burning deep into his mind.
“I left it on the Rock of Bass.”
“Fool!” The words seared into Erik, cutting like the lash of a fiery whip. “I want that sword.”
“My sword, the sword you gave me, is more powerful.” Erik tried to excuse his failure.
“Fool!” The lash of words again, slicing through Erik's mind, made him fall to the ground and writhe in agony as the soil seemed to reach all around him, holding him close. “That sword has a blade of pure goodness. Up on this world, it is still a powerful defender. If I have it, my power is increased.”
“Yes, Loki.” Erik said. “It burned me.”
The being reared around Erik, enveloping him in earthy blackness. “Then accept the burn, Erik Egilsson. I gave you the most powerful sword in the world and still you fail me.” The thing recoiled, leaving Erik shaking in the depression in the ground. “Bring me Defender. I can neutralise its power and have no rivals!”
Erik stepped back as Loki eased forward, a formless mass, only partially visible in the dark.
“I gave you a sword to match Defender and augmented your power with all the written forces of evil. You could be the most
