Hero's Song (25 page)

Collun grasped the apple and snatched it out of his shirt. He held it aloft with a shaking hand.

When the hag's eyes fell on it, they narrowed slightly, but she continued to laugh, wiping the edges of her eyes with her gray cloak.

"Did the boy-child find a pretty apple in my orchard?"

"Lady, I would trade you your life for secrets from your well." Collun's voice was raised, but it cracked slightly.

"Would you indeed, boy-child? I am afraid I shall have to disappoint you. It is a pretty little apple. But there are many more in my orchard, just as pretty as that one."

A look of uncertainty passed over Collun's face.

"Ah, I see. The boy-child thought he had found something of value? Did the Wizard of the Trees tell you so? Well, he was wrong. My lapwing did her job well. It is a pretty apple, but I'm afraid it is quite worthless."

Collun lowered his hand and stared at the apple. It had been his last hope. Collun was filled with an overwhelming desire to throw it away from him. He drew his arm back, but before he let go of the apple, he glanced at the hag. She was still weaving, but her eyes watched him closely, avidly.

His body stiffened and he realized what he had almost done. The hag had sought to deceive him. Collun paused, spotting a knife on the table beside him. He
grabbed it up and held the blade next to the golden skin of the apple.

The hag abruptly stopped laughing, and her dried-petal face went a shade whiter, but when she spoke, her tone was hard and taunting.

"Go ahead. Cut the apple in half. Kill old Beara. She has lived long enough. Too long. But you cannot do it, can you? The cowardly boy-child has not the stomach for killing. Not like his father. Not like the champion of Eirren, who would willingly die himself before he would allow others to fight his battles for him."

Collun let out a strangled cry. He set the apple on the table and raised the knife to slash the golden fruit. His whole body shook. Beads of sweat stood out on his face. He began a savage downward plunge, but at the last minute, his hand faltered and swerved to the side. The knife stood upright where it had landed, embedded deep in the wooden table.

With a choked sob Collun snatched up the apple and rolled it across the floor. It stopped at the hag's feet. She gave a crow of triumph and leaned over to grab the apple. Moving with surprising speed, she crossed to the table and set the apple on it and then pulled the knife from the wood. She lifted the blade and brought it down with a vigorous thrust, cleaving the apple neatly in half.

Collun stared, transfixed by the two halves of the apple as they rocked gently on their sides. Against the white flesh of the fruit, Collun could see a five-pointed star formed by the black seeds at the apple's core. He raised his eyes to look at the hag, but he could not see her. The candles had gone out, and it was pitch-black in the room.

Then a light kindled. Someone was lighting the candles again. It was the hag, Collun thought, as he watched the figure with a shawl pulled over its head move from candle to candle.

As the light grew brighter Collun realized the room had changed. The dust was gone, and there was no trace of the broken old furniture. Everything was new and clean.

The shawled figure kept lighting candles until the whole place blazed with light. Then it swung around to face Collun. His mouth dropped open. Underneath the hag's hood was the luminous face of a maiden. With a sudden rippling laugh she threw off the shawl and let it fall to the floor. She stepped gracefully away from it, her small nose slightly wrinkled.

"Musty old thing," she said in a voice that sounded of bells pealing through the dawn. She was dressed in a flowing garment the color of apple blossoms and had yellow-gold hair that fell in waves to her waist. She looked the same age as Collun.

The maiden gazed steadily at Collun and laughed her musical laugh. "Close your mouth at once, Collun, son of Cuillean. You look like one of my silver salmon." Collun clapped his mouth shut.

The maiden caught sight of herself in a mirror across the room and gave an admiring smile, tucking a stray lock of yellow-gold hair behind one delicate ear.

"Where was I?...Oh, yes, I was about to thank you. I let myself get too old this time." She shook her head with a worried frown. "I'd forgotten where my little apple was, although when I woke up this morning I knew it was gone."

"But the apple was cut."

"Of course. So my life could begin anew. Well, not exactly anew. I have been a baby once or twice, and I hated it. All sleeping and burping and nothing else really. So I skip over that now." Collun continued to look bewildered.

"Don't you see? It is the cycle of my life. The apple must be cleaved in half so that I may begin anew. Here it is, whole again." She removed something from the folds of her gown. It was the golden apple, and its golden skin matched the maiden's hair. It lay in her small white hand, and Collun could see that it was indeed whole and unblemished.

"But we are straying from the subject. Son of Cuillean, I would give you two gifts, as you gave me two gifts."

"Two, m'lady?" Collun answered in confusion.

"Yes. You gave me both your pity and my life. In spite of all I said, you gave me my apple. I was cruel, I know, but I could not help myself. I was angry about the Wizard of the Trees. He was once a friend to me. And you can't know what it is like to be so old. And so lonely." She gave a quick shudder.

"First, I will give you the knowledge that you seek. I will find out where your sister lies. My first meal shall be a fine silver salmon from the well. Mordu? Oh, Mordu?" she called into the next room. The blind man appeared.

"This boy-child found my apple, Mordu! And you will broil me a salmon with rosemary and chervil. Oh, and I must have some of your bread, Mordu. Your delicious bread! Now that I have teeth again..." And she
flashed her perfect teeth in another radiant smile. "Quick, Mordu, bring me bread right now!" Mordu nodded and left the room.

"Where was I?" she asked again. "Oh yes, my second gift." Out of the folds of her gown she drew a small shining object. "It was given to me by a wizard. The Wizard of the Trees. Young and strong he was then. I believe you knew him as Crann." Her beautiful face grew sad. She held out her hand to Collun. Lying in her palm was a seashell. It was slightly larger than Collun's thumb and spiraled in pearly folds from the bottom, with a small opening at the top.

Collun took it in awe. He had not seen many seashells, but somehow he knew there were few as exquisite as this one. He carefully placed it in his pocket.

"Thank you, Lady."

She nodded distractedly, her eyes again on her reflection in the mirror. "I look a little pale, don't you think, son of Cuillean? Oh, I cannot wait to walk among my apple trees and feel the sun and wind on my face." The maiden stretched her lithe young body, reveling in its suppleness. Mordu reappeared, bearing a platter of bread and cheese. He placed it in front of the maiden. She gazed at it longingly, but she shook her head.

"If I start eating now, I won't be able to stop. First I must do as I promised. Mordu, where is my fishing pole?" Mordu found a pole by the door and brought it to her. "We shall have a moonlight fishing expedition. Come, Mordu. We will be back soon," she called out as they disappeared through the door.

Collun sat at the table. He took out the seashell and gazed at it. Crann had given this to the maiden, perhaps
when he was a young man. Collun tried to picture the wizard in his youth and could not. Then he dozed, his head falling forward onto the table.

He woke to the sound of the maiden's laughter as she and the blind man reentered the cottage. Mordu disappeared into the kitchen with the bucket. The maiden crossed to Collun and said, "It won't be long."

She began to flit about the room, opening windows and raising curtains. Dawn light began to fill the room. The maiden blew out all the candles, then left the house.

She returned shortly with an armful of apple-tree branches covered with delicate pink and white blossoms, still closed from the night. She placed them in containers around the room. Collun stared at the greenery. It was winter in Eirren. Where had she gotten apple blossoms?

"There," the maiden said, eyeing the room critically. Collun crossed to the window. He drew in his breath sharply. The apple trees around the house were filled with blossoms. "How...?"

"Spring is so much nicer than winter, don't you think?" the maiden said.

Collun nodded in a daze.

Mordu reentered bearing a plate. He set it on the table, and the maiden practically flew to her chair. She ripped off a hunk of bread and took a bite. As her jaws worked, she closed her eyes and a contented smile came over her face. "Oh, Mordu, you are a wonder!" Then she opened her eyes and looked at Collun, who had been watching her eagerly.

"Mordu, take the son of Cuillean to see your garden. I must be alone now." Mordu nodded and led Collun out the door. The boy breathed in the fresh warm air in wonder.

Behind the house lay a magnificent garden. Here, too, a perpetual spring seemed to hold sway. Collun forgot his fatigue as he took in all the varieties of brilliant, eye-catching flowers, as well as an exquisite garden of herbs. Reverently he crouched down beside a teeming patch of mint. He thought with longing of his almost empty wallet of herbs.

As if he could read the boy's mind, Mordu said in his deep voice, "You may take what you like. It grows quickly." Collun looked up at the tall man, who was staring straight ahead with his blind eyes.

"In truth?"

Mordu nodded. "But you need sleep. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough."

When they returned to the house, they found the maiden curled up on her wooden bed, fast asleep.

Mordu set up a soft, feather-filled pallet by the fireplace for Collun. The boy gratefully climbed in and slept deeply.

He awoke at midday, and Mordu prepared and served Collun a delicious dinner of fresh fish. It was not salmon, Collun knew, but the flesh was flaky and white and it melted in his mouth. There was also hot squash with orange skin, garnished with rich butter and tangy herbs.

He ate hungrily, and as he was finishing, Collun glanced at the slumbering maiden and whispered to Mordu, "What should I call her now? Has she a name, other than Beara?"

"You may call me Mealladh, son of Cuillean." The maiden sat up in her bed, yawning. "It is one of my early names. The Wizard of the Trees used to call me Mealladh." The maiden climbed out of her bed and
padded over to the table in her bare feet. She sat down and began eating the last of the bread. Collun gazed at her anxiously, but she remained silent, munching the bread, her eyes distant. She spoke abruptly.

"The news I have for you is not good, Collun," Mealladh said. Collun's body stiffened.

"Is Nessa...?"

"No, she is alive. But while I slept I saw where she is and who guards her." Silence filled the room. The maiden pushed the empty bread plate away from her with a frown. "Why can we not talk of something else? This is my favorite of your bread recipes, Mordu. Do you use goat's milk?"

The blind man did not answer.

"Bring me more. I cannot get enough."

But Mordu did not move. Collun stood, his heart pounding. "What is it, Lady? Who guards Nessa?"

"It is the Wurme," the maiden said finally.

"What?"

"The Firewurme, Naid, guards her. I am sorry."

Collun stared blindly ahead. The Firewurme.

The maiden shuddered and rose, moving across the room to one of the arrangements of apple blossom branches. She fiddled with it absently, then pressed her nose into the pink and white petals, inhaling deeply. "It is a loathsome thing. If I had known I would dream of the Firewurme, I never would have agreed to your request. Cruachan was an evil man. Evil." She shivered again and turned toward Collun.

"The Wurme guards your sister on an island off the north of Scath. The Isle of Thule. She is in some sort of cave. She looks ill and thin. Oh, how I hate bad news! Mordu, please bring me more bread. And apple wine."
She moved to the mirror on the wall and smoothed her hair. She turned back to Collun with a smile. "Well, it is a shame. But when you have lived as long as I, you see that one life is no more than a feather in the wind."

Collun looked away.

"Of course," the maiden continued, "it is disappointing to travel so far for naught, son of Cuillean. But you can return to your home now, knowing you have done all that you could."

Collun shook his head slowly. Home. He had no home. "Do you know the way to Thule, Lady?"

Mealladh looked at him in disbelief. "Thule? You do not think to go to Thule?"

"Yes."

"You know about the Firewurme?"

"Crann told me."

Mealladh shook her head. "Then there shall be no more talk of going to Thule. You are young, with many years to live." Mordu placed a platter of hot bread on the table. Collun closed his eyes and breathed in the warm, fresh aroma. Then he reluctantly opened them again. He drew Crann's map out of his jersey. Unrolling the old leather, he looked up at the maiden.

"Show me Thule."

Mealladh looked with distaste at the map. Then, peering closely, she laid her finger on a small dot off the north coast of Scath.

"But truly you cannot go there. You are welcome to stay with Mordu and me for as long as you like. There is much that Mordu can teach you of plants and growing."

Collun thought of the bountiful herb garden. He took a deep breath.

"I will go to Thule," Collun said resolutely.

The maiden exclaimed in annoyance. "Oh, I am tired, and you are making me cross! This is not the way I thought to spend my first day with teeth that can chew and knees that bend—dreaming of Wurmes and listening to stubborn boy-children." There was a hint of the hag's crackling voice in her last words.

"Mordu, tell me quickly, why should I not use my words of changing on the boy-child? I need practice, and when he goes to Thule, the Firewurme will destroy him anyway. Would he not make a handsome apple tree? I do so love apple trees."