The agony returned, tearing into Erik's mind, sending him writhing on the shifting ground with both hands to his head as the darkness overwhelmed him, bringing him down to the stifling depths.
“Get me that blade, Erik Egilsson.”
“Yes, Master.” Erik cowered before the voice.
He was alone. Loki had gone, and only the sounds of nature filled the night. Erik stood up, shaking, brushed off the layers of harsh dirt that covered him and set off for the Rock of Bass where he had left Melcorka. Ten paces away, the grey man watched without a hint of expression on his face.
“I won't let you down, Lord,” Erik promised. “I'll bring you Defender.” Coming to a farmhouse, he butchered all the occupants, grabbed a horse and spurred it cruelly towards the coast.
Chapter Six
When she opened her eyes, Melcorka could see the silver-blue steel of Defender glittering in the cold moonlight. Reaching out, she found she could not quite touch it. “I failed you,” she said as she felt her strength draining away with her blood. “I failed you, Defender.”
“You failed nobody.” Bradan inched closer, bleeding from the wound in his head and stunned at witnessing Melcorka's defeat. “Erik had a sword that matched yours; that's all. He took you by surprise.” He pushed Defender into Melcorka's hand. “Let's see your wounds.”
Both cuts were deep, stretching the full length of Melcorka's thighs, with her blood surging red against the dull grey-green of the grass. Rapidly removing his leine, the linen shirt he wore, Bradan tore a long strip and tied it above the wound on the left leg to act as a tourniquet. The blood flow eased, without ceasing entirely.
“Other leg,” Bradan said, ripping off another strip of the leine. He repeated the procedure on Melcorka's right thigh, with her blood soon soaking through the linen to drip slowly on to the grass.
“That's slowed it,” Bradan said quietly. “I'll look for some sphagnum moss. That's the best thing.”
“No. Get Defender,” Melcorka heard the weakness in her voice. “Push the blade against the wound.”
“What?” About to argue, Bradan saw the weakness in Melcorka's face. “You know Defender best.” Lifting the sword, Bradan pressed the steel against Melcorka's left thigh, outside the bandage.
“I can feel the blood flow easing,” Melcorka said. “The magic of the blade is working.”
When the blood ceased to drip, Bradan did the same to Melcorka's right thigh.
“Are you cured?” Bradan asked.
“No.” Melcorka shook her head. “Defender can only staunch the blood for a while.” She looked up. “There is something inside me, Bradan. I can feel it.”
Bradan did not see True Thomas appear until he stood over Melcorka. “You lost your fight, then.” True Thomas shook his head. “Sometimes, it is better to lose and learn than win and know nothing.”
Melcorka grimaced in pain as she tried to stand. “I'll defeat him next time,” she said.
“You may,” True Thomas said. “That will be a day you will not see.”
“I'll see it,” Melcorka said. “I'll recover from these wounds, hunt Erik down and defeat him.” She looked down at her legs. “Or I will die, and Black Duncan or Finleac will finish the job.”
“You will live.” Bradan tried to hide his worry behind a false smile.
True Thomas only glanced at Melcorka's wounds. “Did you learn anything from this fight, Melcorka? Anything that will increase your chance of victory if you face Erik again?”
Melcorka pulled Defender closer, shaking her head. “No.”
“I did,” Bradan said. “I learned two things. I learned that the grey man is not only Erik's servant, but he also helps him fight as well.”
Thomas nodded. “And the second thing?”
“Erik cannot lift Defender. He tried three times, and the sword repelled him each time.”
“The hilt,” Melcorka said, twisting as the pain increased inside her. “The priests at St Cuthbert's in Carham blessed Defender's hilt.”
“That worked, then,” Bradan said.
“Erik still defeated me,” Melcorka gasped, writhing on the ground.
Bradan pressed sphagnum moss into the wound on her left leg. “You were not only fighting Erik,” he said. “You were fighting the grey man as well.”
“He was not involved,” Melcorka said.
“He was,” Bradan contradicted her, pressing a pad on to Melcorka's right leg. “Every time you gained an advantage, the grey man put his hand inside his bag and Erik countered you.”
“The bag?” Melcorka tried to rise, gasped, shook her head and sank back down. “How did that help?”
“I do not know,” Bradan said. “There must be something inside the bag.”
True Thomas nodded. “Remember, Bradan, evil's smiling arrogance will reveal the light.”
“What does that mean?” Bradan asked, but Thomas did not answer as he spoke to Melcorka. “Erik has the power of evil with him. True evil.”
“He told me about Loki's sword.” Melcorka forced herself to stand, holding on to Bradan for support. “Loki has given him the power.”
“There is worse than Loki,” True Thomas said. “You cannot defeat all evil on your own. You need help. You must journey to rebuild your strength, and fight Erik only when you have the spiritual strength and the words to win.”
Melcorka pulled herself to her feet. “To where must I journey to find the words and win this fight? I can hardly stand, let alone walk.”
“Follow the oystercatchers.” Thomas pointed upward. Melcorka looked, saw nothing, returned her gaze and Thomas was gone.
“Where the devil is he?” Melcorka asked, but the only reply came from the raucous screams of seabirds until, half-hidden by a flock of gannets, the oystercatchers landed in front of them.
“Has True Thomas sent you?” Bradan asked the birds.
The birds looked at him, orange beaks seeming to nod assent.
“Are you here to guide us?” Bradan waited for the next nod. “Go slowly then, for Melcorka is wounded.”
Rising gracefully, the oystercatchers circled before heading to the peak of the Bass, the white on their wings flashing through the night.
“Come on, Mel,” Bradan put a supporting arm around her. “We'll follow the oystercatchers. It
