“Thank God,” Bradan said. “That was the worst nightmare we have endured.” When he looked over his shoulder, Bradan thought he saw a woman dressed in grey among the trees, but when he blinked, the woman was gone. He did not say anything to Melcorka as his thumb sought the security of the carved cross on his staff.
Chapter Seventeen
“You are a warrior again,” Bradan said as they emerged from the forest into the foothills of the Monadhliath, the Grey Mountains.
“I am,” Melcorka agreed.
“You dealt with the cannibals without a qualm.” Bradan was quiet for a few moments. “I was scared, Melcorka. I don't think I've ever been as scared as I am now.”
“We have never seen such a collection of evil,” Melcorka said. “Everywhere we go, the country is upside down. Moss-men attacking us to grab Defender and Forest-dwellers turning into cannibals; evil has descended on the country, Bradan, and I think it's getting worse the further north we go.”
Bradan smiled. “Aye, the closer we get to the house built on bones, but as long as you're back to yourself, Mel, I am sure we'll be fine. You're a match for anybody.”
“I was not a match for Erik.”
“You will be next time,” Bradan said. “Now you know what you are fighting. I'll keep my eye on the grey man so he cannot interfere.”
The Monadhliath were clothed in heather, with patches of woodland and herds of deer. Glad to be in the open again, Melcorka and Bradan took every precaution they could, camping away from their fire when they slept, keeping one person on watch all night and avoiding habitations. They saw three packs of wolves and heard the growl of a bear, but managed to cross the hill range in two days and a night.
A thin rain dampened the ground when they approached the Great Glen, the diagonal series of lochs and rivers that cut Alba in two. Melcorka was singing softly, lifting her feet high as she negotiated knee-high heather.
“You sound happy,” Bradan said.
“I am myself again,” Melcorka told him. She touched the hilt of Defender. “I am ready to face Erik.”
Bradan smiled, not admitting his fear. He did not want to see Melcorka fight again. He did not wish to see her kill somebody else and still less did he want to see her lying, hurt and bleeding, on the ground.
“It will be all right, Bradan,” Melcorka said, shaking away her recurring vision. Once again, she saw herself lying on that sandy ground, with a tall man standing over her and Bradan walking away with another woman.
They walked on, hiding their fears behind false good humour, and stopped only when they crested a ridge that afforded a view to the north. Loch nan Beiste stretched in front of them, over 20 miles long, three miles wide and brooding between sullen dark hills.
“The Loch of the Monster,” Melcorka mused. “I wonder what strange creature lurks in there.”
“Let's hope we never find out.” Bradan tapped his staff on the ground. “I've seen enough monsters to last me for ever. On this side of the loch, we are in Alba. On the other side, the Norse have taken over. This loch is the border between what we know and what we don't. A good place for monsters to lie in wait.”
“Look above,” Melcorka said. “Ravens.”
The two birds of ill-omen quartered the sky, searching for prey.
“Stray birds?” Bradan wondered, “or did Erik Egilsson or some other Norseman send them to guard the frontier?”
“If it were Erik, he knows I am alive,” Melcorka said. “Things might get more difficult now.”
Bradan nodded. “Yes, after our easy journey so far. Now, we can either cross that loch or walk around it.”
“We could cross by boat,” Melcorka said, “if we had such a thing.”
“Well, we won't cross by standing looking.” Bradan tapped his staff on the ground. “Come on, Mel, let's see what the world brings us.”
Moving with care as they were so near the Norse frontier, they negotiated the slope to the banks of the loch. There were no boats along the shore, but one sailing the loch, with a single bank of oars pushing her through the water and a row of circular shields along the gunwale.
“A Norse dragon ship.” Melcorka nodded to the curved prow with the open-jawed dragon as a figurehead. “The enemies of my blood.” Her hand twitched above the hilt of Defender.
“We are not here to fight the Norse,” Bradan reminded her gently. “Mael Coluim will deal with them. Our enemy is far worse than a mere Norse raider.”
Melcorka took a deep breath, withdrawing her hand from the sword. “I have no love for the Norse since they killed my mother.”
“I know that,” Bradan said.
They watched the dragon ship as it slowly rowed down the length of the loch until it was out of sight to the southwest. The ripples it raised washed over the rounded stones at the lochside for a few moments, then died away.
“There's somebody down by the water's edge,” Bradan said.
“Norsemen?” Melcorka felt almost hopeful as she reached for Defender.
“No. A group of women,” Bradan said. “Over there.” He gestured with his chin.
“What are they doing?” Melcorka mused.
Four of the women were carrying something in a wickerwork cage, something pale and white that moved and made low moaning sounds. The women struggled over the uneven ground, with one or other stopping to poke a stick at the object within the cage.
“It's a child,” Melcorka's hands tightened on the hilt of Defender. “They have a child in that cage. What are they going to do?”
“Nothing good, I'd say.” Bradan lengthened his stride to cover the ground at a faster pace.
“It's not a child,” Melcorka said as they came closer to the group. “It's a young woman.”
Stepping on to a large rock that protruded over a dark pool in the loch, the women began to chant, hauling the cage closer to the water's edge. The captive struggled desperately to get free,
