Hero's Song (6 page)

The creature calling himself Mister Urlacan spoke in his soft, caressing voice. "We meet again. It seems our way does indeed lie together after all. Come..." His yellow eyes shone at Collun from under his hood.

"What is it you want from us?" Collun asked in a strangled voice.

"Oh, I have no personal interest in the matter. It is merely a commission."

"They killed the master!" Rince suddenly cried out, near tears.

The morg paid no attention to the boy's words. "Now, drop your little knife and come with us." The yellow eyes bored into Collun's. He backed farther away from the creature.

Mister Urlacan sighed impatiently. "If you do not, I will be obliged to kill the small one here." The morg nodded at the Scathian who held Rince, and the man put his knife to the boy's throat.

"Well?" said Mister Urlacan impatiently. He gestured to the Scathian. Collun could see the knife bite into the boy's skin. A line of red appeared on the thin white throat.

Collun dropped his dagger. It fell on its side in a clump of hay. The lucky stone glittered slightly in the light of the oil lamp. Collun took a deep breath, then deliberately walked across the barn to Mister Urlacan. A three-fingered hand closed over his wrist. Collun recoiled at the touch. The morg's grip was like iron.

"Kill the other first, then the small one," Mister Urlacan hissed softly to the two Scathians behind him. They began to move toward Talisen. The morg turned to leave the barn, pulling Collun with him.

Collun resisted, trying in vain to wrench himself free. "Ah, you prefer to stay and watch? As you like." The morg stopped but maintained his iron hold on Collun.

The two Scathians began to circle Talisen. Collun stood still; the damp hand encircling his wrist seemed to have paralyzed his whole body, radiating a cold lethargy through every limb. He could not budge his legs; they
felt brittle, like icicles that would shatter if he moved them.

A cock crowed somewhere nearby. Mister Urlacan whipped his head around to look out into the yard. Dawn was just beginning to break, and the morg pulled the cowl of his hood lower to shield himself from the light.

"Hurry," he hissed.

Talisen had been darting nimbly from side to side, but the Scathians were closing on him. Collun watched in terror as his friend stumbled. One of the Scathians grabbed Talisen's arm and brutally wrenched it behind his back. A deadly looking knife had appeared in the man's hand.

Collun tightened his muscles, desperately battling against the freezing torpor that held him. He twisted his body and kicked out with a foot. The lantern jerked out of the morg's hand. It fell onto a patch of dirt and, though it sputtered, remained lit. In his surprise, the morg briefly loosened his grip and Collun broke free. He ran toward Talisen. The second Scathian pivoted and knocked Collun to the ground, planting a thick knee on his chest. The knife in the man's hand caught a beam of dawn light and dazzled Collun's eyes. He could smell the man's sour breath.

"No! Stop, fool! That one is not to be killed," came Mister Urlacan's voice. "Bring him. It grows late."

The Scathian reluctantly sheathed his knife and pulled Collun up by the front of his jersey. He began to drag him toward the morg.

Suddenly a voice called out, "Hold!"

In the hayloft above was a slim boy with a bow at
his shoulder and an arrow poised for flight. Collun immediately recognized him as the quiet stranger from the inn.

The Scathian hesitated. Mister Urlacan let out an impatient hiss and swiftly crossed to Collun, reaching out to grab him.

There was a rush of air and then, a split second later, another. The morg let out a grating, wheezing sound. His hand had been shot through by a quivering arrow. Black blood dripped onto the floor of the barn.

The Scathian holding Talisen gazed in astonishment at the arrow that protruded from his own shoulder. Talisen quickly squirmed away and grabbed a nearby pitchfork.

"My next two arrows will find your hearts, if you have any," called the youth.

"He speaks the truth." It was Job Wall's voice. The large man stood at the barn's entrance, holding a bloodstained cloth to his stomach. In the other hand he held a long knife.

"Master!" cried out Rince.

"The boy is called Breo-Saight, or Fire Arrow. It is said that he has yet to miss his mark," boomed Job Wall.

The Scathians hesitated and looked to Mister Urlacan. The morg seemed to have shrunk, and his breath was coming in noisy rasps. Collun watched in horror as Urlacan broke the tip off the arrow and pulled the shaft through his hand. Blood flowed freely. The morg darted another look back at the brightening sun, and a shudder went through his body. He snarled to the Scathians, "Come, fools."

Then the morg pivoted and made a strange little bow
to Collun, saying, "We will meet again." His yellow eyes flashed up at the boy in the hayloft, then back at Collun. Mister Urlacan pulled his hood down over his face, leaving only a thin crack to see through. Trailing black blood, he hurried out of the barn. The three Scathians followed behind.

Job Wall watched from the barn door. "They're gone," he said after a short silence.

Collun retrieved his dagger. The stone in the handle again seemed to glow in the dawn light. Breo-Saight nimbly descended from the hayloft, his bow slung over his shoulder. Collun's eye was caught by the design carved into the upper limb of the bow. It was the likeness of a large bear.

"We are in your debt, Breo-Saight," Collun said, extending his hand.

The youth shrugged, shaking the offered hand. "Like Job Wall, I do not like Scathians. Or morgs, though this is the first I've seen," he added.

***

When they were back in the inn, Collun tended to Job Wall's wound with his herbs. The landlord had protested that it was only a slight injury, but his face was pale from loss of blood.

As soon as Collun had finished with him, Job Wall sent off two of his men to discover, if they could, where Urlacan and his men had gone.

Rince served breakfast to the three boys. Talisen and Breo-Saight set to with a hearty appetite, but Collun barely touched his food. He stood, crossed to the window, and peered out anxiously.

"Come back here and eat," said Talisen. "The grannach is excellent."

Collun shook his head.

Talisen and Breo-Saight were on their second helping when Collun let out a sound. "Someone is coming." Job Wall joined him at the window.

"Ah, that is Ned. Let's see if he has anything to report." The large man left the kitchen.

He returned soon after. "Ned says that Farmer Olmveg saw some men on horseback out on the edge of his west field. There's an old shed out there. Could be the morg is sheltering there until nightfall. If you leave now, you may be able to get a jump on them." Job Wall paused, looking speculatively at Collun. "Where are you headed?"

"North," said Collun, "but not by the road."

"Have you a route in mind?" asked Breo-Saight.

Collun shook his head.

"Hardly," said Talisen, his mouth full.

"I know a way," said Breo-Saight, "and would offer myself to you as guide. I, too, am heading north, and like you, I have no wish to cross paths with the morg Urlacan."

Collun hesitated. Aside from Breo-Saight's skill with bow and arrow, they knew nothing of him.

"Better take him up on it," Job Wall put in matter-of-factly. "There's no one knows these lands better. Besides, that bow arm of his may come in handy."

"I don't suppose you sing, Breo-Saight?" Talisen asked, giving his bowl to Rince for a third helping of grannach. "We could use another voice by the fire at night. My friend Collun here has a tin ear."

"I sing a little," the youth replied, his eyes on Collun.

Collun suddenly came to a decision. "We would welcome your company."

Breo-Saight smiled. "In that case, please call me Brie. It is the name I go by among companions."

Job Wall provided them with a generous supply of food, water, and ale. Rince readied the mare as well as a pony the landlord had added at the last minute.

"There are three of you now," he said, refusing any additional payment. "Whatever your business is, if a morg is out to stop you, it must be something worth doing."

Collun thanked the large man and soon they were on their way, Brie and Collun on the mare, with Talisen following behind on the pony.

Brie guided the horse with a sure hand, moving across the moorland at a brisk pace. They traveled hard, then stopped at midday for food and rest since none had slept the night before. In the late afternoon, as the sky cleared and the sun shone, Talisen softly sang all twenty-four verses of the "Cuckoo Song" to keep their spirits up. There was no sign of Scathians or the morg.

Brie led them on an easterly route, veering at a wide angle from the high road.

"The land we will travel over is much like this," Brie said, gesturing at the undulating moors around them. "Until we come to the Forest of Eld."

Collun had heard of the Forest of Eld back in Inkberrow. There were tales of men who had lost their way for half a lifetime in the ancient and massive wood, as well as those who never returned at all.

"I know of only two ways through the Forest of Eld," said Brie. "One is the high road, which cuts through the
western end. The other is a path that winds through Eld's very center. Not many know of it. The safest course would be the high road, at least in terms of the forest itself. It is well maintained and the wood is not so dense. But it is also the first place Urlacan will be watching."

"And the path?" asked Collun.

"I have traveled it once before and met no trouble. But it is overgrown in places and not always easy to follow." Brie paused. "I would cast my vote for the path, but it is up to you."

Collun hesitated. "There is no way around the forest?"

"Not unless you wish to add a month or more to the journey."

"The path it is, then," said Collun, trying to set aside his fear.

They made camp that night near a dense thicket of rowan trees. Brie left them for a time, and when he returned he reported, "I see no sign of Scathians or Urlacan. So far."

During Brie's absence Collun had made a stew using turnips and salted meat from Job Wall's kitchen. He had added acorns, rosemary, and small wild onions. In between bites, Brie complimented Collun on his culinary skill, then asked why he and Talisen were journeying to Temair.

"My sister," Collun said slowly, "was living in Temair. We received word that she is missing. I go there to aid in the search."

Brie shook his head. "These are dark times in Eirren. You said you live in Inkberrow?"

Collun nodded.

"Do you live with your mother and father?"

Collun nodded again. "My father runs the smithy in Inkberrow."

"What is his name?" Brie asked. "I traveled through Inkberrow once and had my horse shod by an able blacksmith."

"Goban," Collun replied, refilling Brie's bowl with stew. He glanced up briefly and thought he saw a curious expression in the boy's eyes.

But all Brie said was, "That was the name. I remember now."

"And you, Breo-Saight? Where are you from?" asked Talisen, handing his bowl to Collun for seconds.

"A small town northwest of Temair. You would not know it."

"And your mother and father?"

"My mother died when I was born. That is a handsome harp you carry, Talisen. What is the workmanship?"

"I do not know," answered Talisen. "Are you trying to change the subject, Brie?"

"Not at all. It is only that I fear my history would bore you. I suspect yours is much more intriguing. What is the story of your harp?"

Talisen paused but was clearly unable to resist the temptation to talk about himself. "I have had it since I was a babe."

Brie raised his eyebrows.

"They found me one day, the good people of Inkberrow, in the middle of town, wearing no more than a linen diaper and this harp strung across my back. I was barely able to walk, they tell me, and the harp was
twice my size, but I was able to balance it with ease."

"It was strapped to your back?" Brie responded in disbelief.

"And the linen cloth of the diaper was soaked through with seawater, among other things," Talisen said with a grin.

"Inkberrow is nowhere near the shore," Brie pointed out.

"Exactly!" responded Talisen. "Is it not strange and mysterious?"

"It makes a good story, anyway," said Brie with a smile.

"The truth often does," Talisen retorted. "Now, how about some music?" He began one of the old songs, badgering Brie to join in while Collun washed their dinner utensils in a nearby stream.

Though Brie's voice was softer than Talisen's, it was true and clear, and the two harmonized well. Collun rejoined them by the fire and listened while they sang several more songs, until Talisen suggested a song about the hero Cuillean.

Brie rose and stretched, saying, "That's enough for me tonight."

"Do you not care for songs of Cuillean and the Eamh War?" asked Talisen.

Brie shook his head. "It is only that I am weary. And we need to be up early."

"Tell me," Talisen went on, ignoring Brie's pointed yawn, "is it true what we have heard in Inkberrow? That Cuillean has been missing for over a year?"

"As far as I know, it is true," replied Brie.

"Do you think he is dead?"

"Perhaps."

As Collun rose to stir the glowing embers of the fire, he felt Brie's eyes on him. Watching the small sparks that flew up, Collun said, "I am tired, too, Talisen. Stop pestering Breo-Saight with your questions and let us get some sleep."

***

The next day the weather stayed brisk and clear, and they made good progress. But in the late afternoon they came across a wide swath of knee-high burdock. Sticky burrs jabbed at the animals' legs and flanks and clung to the boys' clothing. The mare occasionally reared with an exasperated whinny, while the pony constantly shied and finally came to a complete halt, refusing to budge another inch.

After several minutes of futile cajoling and kicking, Talisen let out an ear-blistering curse and swung himself off the stubborn pony. "Damnable hurr-burrs," he muttered, peeling several off his clothing. "They're driving me mad."