Hero's Song (27 page)

There was no way to tell in which direction they were going. Despite the Ellyl horse's keen sense of direction, Collun did not think it possible that he would be able to hold to their course. It took all the animal's energy simply to keep moving through the blizzard.

"Collun." He could just hear Brie's voice over the whistling sound of the wind.

"Yes?"

"Try not to fall asleep. There is danger in sleep when you are cold."

They lapsed into silence. Collun shut his eyes and listened to the whishing of the wind and to the muffled sound of Fiain's hooves plodding through the deep drifts of snow. The fur of his hood was rimmed with tiny icicles that pricked his face. The large flakes of the day before had turned into small, fierce pellets of ice that hammered relentlessly at their bodies.

Collun began to lose all sense of time. There was only the stinging snow, the sound of the wind, and the movement of the horse beneath them. On and on they went through the blizzard.

Collun suddenly felt something clasp him around the waist. He looked down and saw Brie's hands with their makeshift mittens. She was squeezing him tightly. Then he realized with horror that he had fallen asleep.

"Collun?" Brie's voice was insistent and worried. "Collun, can you hear me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I was sleeping."

"I thought so." Brie sounded tired herself, but she was patient. "Please try to stay awake. They say freezing is an easy way to die, because it steals over you like sleep. But I do not think it is our time for dying. Not yet." She paused. The sound of the wind filled their ears. "What will you do, Collun, when this is over? Will you return with Nessa to Inkberrow?"

"No." Brie didn't seem to hear him at first, so he said it again, louder. "No. I will not return to Inkberrow."

"Why not?"

"There is no home for me there." Collun thought of Goban's dark face with its perpetual frown. He shivered.

Brie sensed his mood and quickly said, "Where, then?"

"I do not know."

There was silence. Then Brie said, "There will be a garden, wherever it is."

Collun smiled slightly. "I hope so."

"Tell me what you will plant in the garden."

Collun paused, thinking.

"Well?" she prodded him gently.

"It would depend on how much land there was." Talking was difficult, but it was better than the constant sound of the wind.

"Say there is much land, as much as you could ever want."

"Then it would depend on the soil. If it is heavy or light, too much clay or sand, which would depend on where the land was..."

"Put the land where you like."

"Very well. I will have it by the sea because the moisture in the air is good for growing. First, I will sow heliotrope seeds because the flowers are brightly colored. They are also sweet smelling and will attract bees. I would like a hive near my garden. Next to the heliotrope I will plant red valerian because the two grow well side by side. Then a small patch of paggle. It smells as good as it looks and makes a delicious pudding with cream, eggs, and rosewater."

Brie let out a muffled groan. "Please, no talk of food. What about a bit of wild hyacinth or harebell? The juice from the stalk makes a glue I use to attach feathers to my arrows."

"Then there shall certainly be harebell," said Collun. "And some blue clownrie; though it's an ugly, squat thing with nettles on its leaves, it is good for healing
wounds and fever. And next to that perhaps some peppergrass for seasoning..." Collun's voice became increasingly animated as he warmed to his theme.

Though many of Collun's words were lost in the wind, Brie kept her head close to his and managed to follow most of what he said. She occasionally interjected a question, and Collun was surprised by her knowledge of gardening. They argued back and forth about the placement of the compost heap.

And so the hours went by. Just after Collun had described the vegetables adjoining the flower and herb gardens, they realized the wind had died down. They were very hungry. Brie reached back and knocked off the snow on top of the leather packs. With numb hands she clumsily fumbled in the packs for Mealladh's apple. Finally, she found it and passed it to Collun.

He took a bite. At first the fruit's cold flesh hurt his teeth. But the apple was delicious, bursting with sweetness. He took several more bites, then passed it back to Brie. He heard the crunch as she bit into it.

Then she passed it back. Collun waited a few moments before his next bite, running his tongue over his chilled front teeth. He brought the apple up to his mouth and let out a cry of surprise.

"What is it?" asked Brie anxiously.

"The apple is whole again." And indeed no matter how much of it they ate, the fruit restored itself; the skin healed and the apple remained whole.

"I have heard of such things, but I never thought to eat any," said Brie, shaking her head in wonder. It made a light meal, but it filled their stomachs, and they both felt their strength renewed.

By the time they replaced the apple in the pack, the
snow had stopped falling altogether. The going was still slow because of the large drifts, and they were both cold through. Their hands and feet might have been made of wood for all they could feel of them. But at least they could see what lay ahead.

Brie was the first to spy the river. The banks were high with snow, but they could see and hear the water rushing below. Collun took the map from his belt. Peering over his shoulder, Brie pointed at a river that cut Scath at a diagonal, flowing from south to north.

"The Omagh," said Brie. This was the river they were to follow to the top of Scath.

They could not tell where they were on the river. The blizzard could easily have pushed them off at an angle, either south or north, but at least they had found their course again. Even more welcome was the sight of a small dark hump, capped in white, which turned out to be a long-abandoned hut. Brie thought it must once have been inhabited by a ferryman who had provided passage across the wide, unfordable river, as there was the outline of a small boat propped up against the side of the hut. Holes gaped in the hut's roof, and snow lay in drifts inside, but there were dry patches. They entered while Fiain stayed outside, nosing about the banks of the river for food. There was a small pile of wood beside a stone-lined fireplace. Though it seemed to take a lifetime, they were finally able to kindle a fire.

At first the heat caused sharp pains to shoot through their fingers and toes, but as the warmth penetrated, it felt wonderful. They shared the apple again. As Collun took the fruit from Brie, he asked, "Do you think they have reached Temair by now?"

Brie nodded, her eyes on the fire.

"And do you believe Prince Gwynedd still lives?"

"I don't know," she answered. "He is young and strong."

Collun swallowed a bite of the apple. Then before he could stop himself he said, "It must have been difficult, saying good-bye to the prince."

Brie turned and looked at him. "He was in good hands," she said. "And I chose to journey with you."

They were both silent after that and fell asleep by the fire, their bodies huddled close together for warmth.

They woke up shivering. The fire had died to a few smoking embers, and while Brie rekindled it, Collun went outside to feed and rub down the Ellyl horse. Fiain ate of Mealladh's apple with obvious pleasure.

They left the shelter reluctantly. The wind was blowing, but not as hard as before. They mounted Fiain and began to follow the river northward. The sky stayed overcast, but no more snow fell. They made their way slowly across the frozen landscape.

Then sometime during the day they noticed the snow around them was glistening with beads of moisture. The air grew gradually warmer, though there was still no sign of the sun. At first the warmth puzzled them. It did not feel like sun heat; it reminded Collun more of the kind of heat generated by Goban's forge, with a faint metallic smell to it.

Then they realized what it was. The Wurme. Even at this distance its fire that burned without flame was powerful enough to melt snow. Patches of rocky land could be seen everywhere.

The river swelled as the snow melted. The terrain became increasingly craggy, and by the time they
approached the northernmost coast of Scath it was almost all rock. Only the most tenacious vegetation grew between the shingles of stone, and the shrubs and trees that had managed to survive were misshapen and stunted.

As he breathed the acrid air, Collun felt a heavy dread settle on him. He tried to think about the garden he and Brie had planted during the blizzard, but all he could see were the contorted shapes of blackened trees and straggling bushes snaking over the cracked, stony land.

The metallic odor kept getting stronger. It began to take on a sickly, rotting quality. Collun was suddenly reminded of the smell of burning flesh the day Goban had dropped a red-hot ingot on his leg. Collun's stomach churned.

Soon the corrosive smell caught at the back of their throats, making them cough. The air grew so warm they shed both the fur-lined cloaks and the ones they had been wearing underneath.

Abruptly they came to the river's end.

Before them lay the Isle of Thule. Collun's heart started to pound.
Nessa.

The island rose out of the water, a huge outcrop of jagged rock, as desolate and barren of any living thing as the land on which they stood. Covering nearly half the island was a glistening mound of dirty white. Part of the white mass shifted slightly, and Collun realized with a thrill of horror that it was the Firewurme.

It was not possible to see where the monster began or where it ended. It seemed to be coiled in on itself. Forewarned as he had been by Crann, Collun was yet struck dumb by the creature's size. It was as high as the tallest pine he had ever seen, and it stretched at least as wide as the whole of the farmhold Aonarach.

Collun suddenly felt very small. He heard Brie exhale, and he turned and met her gaze. She managed a smile, but it did not reach her eyes.

The Isle of Thule was not far offshore. With the tide out, it even looked possible to wade to the island. The water was an opaque greenish color with a thin film of scum floating in patches on the surface.

The mound on the island shifted again, and Brie drew in her breath sharply. Collun saw it at the same time—the entrance to a cave, not a hundred yards from the nearest coil of the Firewurme's body. Collun looked again at the Firewurme. Its dirty white body had a wet sheen to it, as did the rocky surface surrounding it. This must be what Crann had spoken of, the sram that came off the monster's body and burned without flame. Collun wondered how quickly it would burn through their boots.

"The water doesn't look deep," said Collun.

Brie nodded.

"I'm going across," Collun added matter-of-factly, his eyes on the Wurme.

"Then so am I," answered Brie.

"No," Collun responded. "You gave your word."

Brie nodded reluctantly.

The waves broke around Collun's ankles as he waded onto the causeway. When he was halfway across, the water came up to his knees.

Suddenly he heard a loud squelching sound, like the sound a foot makes when pulled out of a puddle of sticky mud, only a thousand times louder. The mass of dirty white flesh lurched.

One coil separated itself from the others. It snaked across the stony ground until it was close to the edge of the island. Then it arched into the air.

Collun found himself looking directly up into the face of the Firewurme. He was separated from it only by the strip of causeway he had yet to cross. He stood frozen.

Naid's head was as large as a farmhouse. It was lumpy, like an enormous blob of dough, and the
creature's eyes were a flat yellow. They were shaped like large almonds, with small black pupils in the center. Its wide, gaping mouth held no teeth. A thin black tongue lolled from one corner of the maw. Dripping from the tongue was a thick clear substance, part liquid and part solid. Sram. Whenever a drop of it hit the ground, it made a faint fizzing sound.

The flat yellow eyes stayed on Collun. The black tongue slid slowly to the other side of the Firewurme's toothless mouth.

Collun shuddered. He realized he was bathed in sweat. The heat that emanated from the Wurme was unlike anything Collun had ever known. It made his eyes water and lungs ache. It was a thousand times hotter than the forge at Aonarach at its hottest.

Collun's body tensed as he saw the Wurme's head dip, but it did not move toward him. It hovered above a large tree branch on the shore. The branch was thick and solid and as long as Collun's leg, but lying below the Firewurme's jaw it looked no bigger than a twig.

The creature's tongue slowly caressed the branch. Collun watched in horror as the wood began to disintegrate. He remained perfectly still, sweat dripping in large drops from his skin. The tongue lapped the shrinking branch again. Several minutes passed. The monster blinked its yellow eyes at him, then retracted its tongue with a hollow slapping sound. All that was left of the branch was a glistening yellow stain on the rocks.

The Wurme reminded Collun of a wolf he had once seen approaching a cluster of fat sheep in Inkberrow. And he thought he saw laughter in the Wurme's flat eyes.

The creature had thick, dirty white lids, which it kept half-shut. Then the sun came out. Though it barely penetrated the thick haze that hung over the island, Collun saw that the light—almost imperceptibly—made the Wurme's pupils dilate. At first he didn't take in the significance. Then he realized the Firewurme's pupils expanded when exposed to light instead of contracting.

Collun slowly inched his way backward across the causeway. The Firewurme's yellow eyes watched him go. Then the creature withdrew, recoiling its body. It kept its face forward.

Collun sank to the rocky surface, his throat raw from the corrosive air surrounding the island. Brie sat on one side of him, while Fiain stood on the other.

"Crann told me it cannot be injured," Collun said, clearing his throat. "And he thought it was like a garden worm; if it is cut, it regenerates itself."