Hero's Song (24 page)

Nearby lay the still figure of the dead horse.

Collun leaned over Gwynedd and gently inspected the
wound. It was deep. Collun did not know whether the young prince would survive.

After quickly tending to his own cut forehead, Collun kindled a fire and prepared poultices of comfrey leaves crushed to a pulp and mixed with hot water. When they were ready, Collun laid them along the worst parts of the prince's wound. They quickly soaked through with blood, and he set to work making a new batch.

Gwynedd became delirious. His skin was flaming hot to the touch. He let out low animal sounds, and the only word they could make out was the name of his dead horse. At one point they had to hold him down, his body writhing and twisting as he shouted Gerran's name over and over. The bleeding got heavier.

Collun quickly prepared a mild sedative from valerian leaves and forced it between Gwynedd's cracked lips. After that the prince was quiet, though his fever still burned.

The moon was now high above them. The bluff was cool, with a sharp wind blowing off the ocean. Collun prepared a pan of hot chicory to take off the chill. As he watched the liquid come to a boil over the red-hot embers, his mind kept going back to the two figures struggling at the edge of the precipice.

They had built their fire as far as they could from the bodies of the fallen morgs and tried not to think of the shrouded figures. The morgs' horses had long since bolted.

They sat huddled in front of their campfire, drinking the chicory and listening to Gwynedd's labored breathing. They took turns sleeping and watching the prince.

The next afternoon, while Brie kept watch, Collun and Talisen set about clearing away the dead morgs. They dug a wide, shallow grave and then dragged the creatures into it, careful not to touch their skin. Talisen wanted to make a funeral pyre, but Collun overrode him, and they covered the bodies with earth instead.

Then the two boys dug a grave for Gerran. Collun was glad of all the mind-numbing exertion. They lowered the large animal into the hole they had dug and covered him over with earth and grass. They piled a few rocks up into a cairn.

Then, where Crann had fallen, Collun buried the two halves of his broken staff and laid three white stones over it. He scratched Crann's name onto the top rock. Night had fallen by the time he finished. Collun and Talisen stood for a moment by Crann's cairn, the raw wind penetrating their cloaks. Then Talisen silently stepped away, returning to the warmth of the fire. He lifted his harp into his lap and began to pick out an elegy.

Collun's eyes blurred. He blinked rapidly several times. Looking out into the night, he listened to the sound of the sea under the harp song, and he thought of the old wizard. His long fingers. His tired, seamed face. His clear eyes. Collun could not believe that Crann was gone. He dropped to one knee. Tears slid down his cheeks. He knelt there, unmoving, until long after Talisen's song was done.

Finally Collun straightened and walked back to the fire. Brie was roasting a small badger, while Talisen sipped a cup of chicory. Gwynedd slept.

"I have decided," said Collun. Brie and Talisen
looked up, their attention caught by the tone in Collun's voice. "I will journey on alone to find Nessa," Collun went on. "The two of you must take the prince to Temair, where he can get the care he needs. Gwynedd can ride Gealach." Though his voice was edged with grief, there was a forcefulness to it that Brie and Talisen had not heard before. Talisen began to open his mouth to object, but reading the expression in Collun's face, slowly closed it again.

"How will you find Nessa?" asked Brie.

"Crann never told me how or where he planned to make contact with his spies from Scath. So I have decided to return to Beara's Well."

His companions looked at him blankly.

"There has been no chance to tell you, but back in that apple orchard near Trout Beck, I found the well."

"The one with the salmon and the hazel trees and everything?" asked Talisen in amazement.

Collun nodded.

"I do not believe you."

"It is true. And I am hoping the magic there will show me where Nessa is. Crann said the well can find that which is lost."

"And if it does not work?" Brie asked.

"I will go to Scath regardless. But I will not take this." He unclasped from his belt the sheath holding the dagger that had been a trine. "If I am captured or killed by Medb, then at least the stone will not fall into her hands. Take it with you to Temair and give it to Queen Aine."

Brie reached out to take the dagger. "Are you sure?"

Collun nodded, but he felt a sudden stab of loss as he let go of the well-worn handle.

***

The next morning as Collun sat by him, Prince Gwynedd's fever at last broke. His eyelids flickered open.

"Prince Gwynedd. Are you awake?"

The prince nodded weakly. He tried to speak, but Collun could not understand him. He leaned closer.

"Crann?" came the thin voice.

"He is gone, Prince," answered Collun, his own voice expressionless.

Gwynedd's eyelids fell shut and, keeping them closed, he spoke again. "And Gerran. He is dead, too."

Although it was not spoken as a question, Collun replied, "Yes." Gwynedd turned his face away. Collun silently placed his hand on the young prince's arm.

"It is my fault."

Collun could barely hear the muffled words.

"Do not try to talk. You were badly hurt."

Gwynedd kept his face turned away. After a while Collun decided he must have fallen asleep.

Collun left him then and went to the fire. "His fever has broken," Collun told Brie and Talisen. "But I do not know if he has the will to heal."

"His body is strong," Brie replied.

"He is not strong enough to travel, but we can't wait any longer. He must get to Temair. And Urlacan is out there somewhere. He may return."

"Yes," Brie answered.

They got the prince to eat a few bites of bread and some broth and then, in the late afternoon, hoisted him astride the Ellyl horse Gealach.

Before they rode off, they paid a last visit to Crann's cairn. Then, in a hoarse voice, the prince asked to see where Gerran was buried. As they paused by the fresh grave, Collun got a glimpse of Gwynedd's ravaged face. His heart squeezed with pity.

Collun and Brie had studied Crann's map before setting out. Collun had tried to give the map to Brie for their journey to Temair, but she refused to take it.

"I know the ways between here and Temair well enough. You are the one traveling into unknown territory."

The plan was to journey together for a short distance, and then Brie, Talisen, and Gwynedd would veer off at a diagonal, heading southeast toward Temair.

The time to part came quickly. Collun examined Gwynedd's wounds one last time. He freshened the prince's bandages, and then gave Brie and Talisen the rest of the comfrey leaves. Gwynedd was barely conscious but seemed to understand that Collun was leaving them.

"Good luck," Collun thought he heard Gwynedd whisper through dry lips.

Talisen clapped Collun on the back. "When you find Nessa of the black eyes, tell her I've learned a hundred new riddles and that I shall make a song just for her when she comes back."

Collun agreed to do as Talisen requested. Then the two friends looked at each other, and without words, they clasped hands.

Collun turned to say good-bye to Brie.

"I will guard the dagger that was a trine well," she said.

"Thank you," Collun replied. Their eyes locked for
a moment. Collun suddenly felt as though the small dagger was turning in his heart. "Brie...," he began.

"Yes?" Her eyes were bright.

"Uh ... be careful," he said lamely.

Brie nodded. "And you, too," she said, then swung herself onto her horse.

Collun mounted Fiain, and the Ellyl horse broke into a brisk trot. Collun lifted his hand in farewell.

As he came to the crest of a small hill, Collun took a last look back at the three figures. He felt a sudden surge of loneliness, but he set his jaw and focused his thoughts on what lay ahead.

At twilight he arrived at the apple orchard.

He and Fiain made their way to the copse of hazel trees. It was strangely silent; not a leaf stirred, not a bird called. Collun dismounted. The horse wandered off a short distance.

With a prickling sensation on his scalp, Collun slid the rock slab off the top of the well. A salmon darted in and out of sight. Taking a cup from his pack, Collun filled it with water. He hesitated a moment. Crann had said the waters of the well could be dangerous if used improperly. And just a drop had caused him to lose several hours of his life.

Resolutely he closed his eyes and concentrated all his thoughts on Nessa. He raised the cup to his lips.

"I would not drink that, were I you," came a deep voice.

Collun's eyes flew open. A tall, thin man dressed in black clothing stood before him. He was bald and had pale, unfocused eyes that gazed fixedly above Collun's head. The boy guessed the man was blind.

"Why not?" Collun asked.

"Well, I'm not certain, but it would either kill you outright or else drive you mad. One or the other," the man answered in an offhand manner.

Collun lowered the cup, his hand shaking.

"It is Beara's Well, you see. Only Beara can drink the water. Not even Mordu can drink."

"Mordu?"

The bald man pointed to himself. "Mordu serves the Cailleach Beara. And it is time for Mordu to prepare her dinner." He turned to leave. "Close the well when you go, if you please." Mordu began to walk away.

Collun slid the rock into place over the well. He scrambled to his feet and fell into step beside the blind man who walked as surely as a sighted person. Fiain followed behind.

"Would Beara help me, do you think?"

"Have you lost something?" Mordu asked, his eyes staring straight ahead.

"Yes. My sister."

"That was careless of you," Mordu said accusingly.

"It wasn't like that. She was kidnapped. And I go to rescue her. But I need to know where she is being held. Would Beara be able to tell me that? With the help of her well?"

"More likely she would turn you into an apple seed and sow you in her orchard," Mordu answered in a matter-of-fact voice. "But you can try. Is that an Ellyl horse with you?"

"Yes. Fiain is his name. The Cailleach Beara's magic must be powerful," Collun said nervously.

"She likes to show off," the blind man said with a
trace of scorn. "But old age has addled her," he added. "She forgets things. Like as not she'd think she was changing you into an apple seed, and you'd really turn out to be an apron. Or a swan. Now, that wouldn't be so bad. I've always liked swans."

"I would prefer to stay as I am," Collun responded.

"Suit yourself." Mordu shrugged. An old, derelict-looking house had come into sight. Mordu was heading toward it.

"Is this where you live with the Old Woman of Beara?" asked Collun.

Mordu nodded. "I would invite you in, but you did say you prefer your present shape ... Besides, she's been in a foul mood all day." They were passing through a small grove of apple trees that surrounded the house.

"Why?"

"Says she lost something. But when I asked what, she says she can't remember. I told her to try the well, but she just barked at me. It's not easy." Mordu sighed. "Good evening to you, then." The bald man bowed and entered the hovel.

Collun stood irresolute outside the door. He did not like the sound of a foul-tempered hag with powerful magic and a penchant for shape changing. But he carried her life in his jersey pocket. If he was to give it to her, perhaps she would be grateful enough to grant him a favor. It was a risk, but what choice did he have? Blunder about Scath blindly on the off chance of running across his sister? Fiain gave a whicker.

"I won't be long," Collun said to the horse. He stepped up to the door and knocked.

Mordu opened the door.

"May I see the Cailleach Beara?" Collun asked politely.

The blind man's face registered surprise, but he gestured Collun inside.

The room was dark, lit only by a few candles. The inside of the house was as run-down as the outside. Dust lay thick on the floor, and the furniture was broken and worn.

At one side of the room, Collun saw an old woman hunched over a large loom, her feet rhythmically pumping the treadles while her gnarled hands deftly worked the threads.

Collun had never seen a person so old. Her skin hung loose on her bones, with cascades of wrinkles spilling down her face. The color of her skin reminded Collun of dried-out apple blossom petals.

Collun's glance fell on the design in the cloth the old woman was weaving. When he saw what it was, he let out a low cry.

Against a background of a dark blue sky and an ever-moving sea, two figures stood locked in a deadly embrace. It was Crann and the creature Arracht.

It was the same nightmarish scene Collun kept seeing over and over in his head, both awake and asleep.

"How did you know—?" Collun stumbled out.

The hag's hands kept moving on the loom. "Beara knows. Past, present, and future. The morg called Arracht out of the forest, but it is because of the cowardly boy-child that the Wizard of the Trees is gone."

Collun gasped for air as though from a blow to his stomach. He stepped back a few paces, leaning against a table to support himself.

"Yes," the hag went on, her dry voice buzzing in Collun's ears. "Beara knows. It was because of you the wizard died. There is no one else to blame."

Collun's cheeks were flame hot.

"The boy-child knows Beara speaks the truth. The prince of Eirren lies broken, his horse dead. The wizard is gone. And why?"

Collun trembled, tears smearing his vision. He thrust his hand inside his jersey, feeling for the small golden apple.

"Because the cowardly boy-child was too frightened to fight his own battles. To find his own sister. And
this
is the son of Cuillean, the brave, the mighty champion. How proud he would be of his only son." The crone opened her toothless mouth, cackling with laughter.