by Edith Pattou
After several hours of carrying Silien, Collun and Talisen began to tire. They dragged on for some time but finally had to rest. They laid the Ellyl gently on the tunnel floor. Talisen went a short distance away to concentrate on the riddle. Collun could hear Brie breathing nearby. He took a step toward her, then stopped.
"Brie?" Collun said tentatively.
"Yes?" Her voice was cold. Collun could hear Fara's purr and guessed that Brie was stroking the animal's back.
"Why do you journey with us?" Collun blurted out.
"In our present circumstances it would seem I have little choice," Brie responded dryly.
"But why did you stay with us after we got to Temair?"
Brie didn't answer for a moment. "Did you want me to leave you then?"
"No!" Collun exclaimed. "That is, we have, uh, come to rely on your bow."
"I see." He could hear her move away from him. Collun reached out to stop her, but then let his arm fall back to his side. He felt a numbness inside him, and for some reason the words in Goban's letter came back to him.
Collun felt his way back to the Ellyl. "Silien?"
"Yes." He was awake.
"How do you feel?" Collun queried.
"A little better," the Ellyl replied huskily. And suddenly he began to sing. At first his voice was so soft that Collun did not even recognize it as singing. It was like the time in the Forest of Eld. The song had no rhyme, it told no story, it did not even have recognizable words—yet somehow Collun knew it was a song. It painted pictures of fire and smoke behind his eyes, and when it was done, the darkness was gone. A soft pink light glowed in Silien's hand. He held it before him so they could see the place where they stood.
It was a tunnel carved of rock, just higher than the tallest of them. They stood at a turning. There was a drawing on the wall just below eye level.
As they walked forward they found more drawings. They were spaced at irregular intervals, and at each turning there was a picture. The designs depicted many different things—a ring-tailed mouse, a blade of grass glistening with moisture, a salmon leaping high above a stream. Each one was exquisite. The spray of periwinkle next to Collun was so lifelike he felt he could reach over and pluck it.
"Ellyl drawings," said Silien.
"They are beautiful," replied Talisen.
"I wonder if they were drawn for decoration only," said Brie.
"You mean you think they may be clues, like the riddle?" queried Talisen. "By Amergin, the answer is on the tip of my tongue! I have heard it before, I am sure. 'I go naked in winter...' Are you sure Fara can remember no more of it, Silien?"
"I am sure." The Ellyl's voice was hollow with fatigue. "Fara has no patience for riddling. Let us move ahead. Perhaps the pictures will tell us more." Silien held up the light in his hand and they walked on. They came to several turnings and randomly chose the way to go.
"'In winter...'" Talisen was still muttering irritably to himself. "I would swear I know this riddle. I heard it once in a song." He slid his harp around again and began to finger the strings. "I can even picture the face of the bard who sang it to me. He was very old, and his voice had more cracks than the plates Farmer Whicklow used to throw at me."
They passed the painting of a spindly legged lamb, then a cluster of ripe huckleberries. Talisen gave a sigh and for a moment stopped playing. "I cannot concentrate for all the clamor my stomach is making. By chance, does anyone have food with them?" No one replied. "I thought not," he responded gloomily.
They came to another turning and paused. Collun absently ran his finger around the edge of the silver-green leaf etched onto the stone beside him. His eyes fell on a small pile of what he thought were rocks. But when he peered more closely at them, he gasped. It was a pile of bones.
He tried without success to stifle the horrible, unbidden thought that flooded his mind. Ever since he had woken in the darkness of the dungeon, he wondered if Nessa had been there, too. And what if, like them, she had escaped into the labyrinth and gotten lost in the pitch-black twistings and turnings? He knelt down by the small pile.
"Those have lain here a long, long time," came Brie's voice from over Collun's shoulder. "Too long."
"Are you sure?" Collun stared down at the grisly heap.
"Yes. If they were your sister's, they would still have some flesh on them," Brie said, her voice matter-of-fact and still distant. She moved away.
"Yet they are too new to be those of the Ellyl maiden for whom the labyrinth was built," said Silien, holding the light over the bones. "Some other victim of Lord Bricriu's treachery, perhaps."
Suddenly Talisen's random playing took on form and he let out a triumphant laugh. "I have found it," he said, his voice loud with excitement. "Listen. It is not exactly the same, but it is close enough.
"'In spring I am gay,
in handsome array.
In summer more clothing I wear.
When colder it grows,
I fling off my clothes,
And in winter quite naked appear.'
"There," Talisen finished with a flourish. "Can you guess the answer? It is simple, really."
There was a short silence.
"A tree, of course," Talisen cried out impatiently.
"But what does it mean? Could the labyrinth be fashioned in the manner of the roots of a tree?" asked Brie.
Collun had been listening with half an ear, his eyes still fastened on the bones. But then something stirred in his memory. The picture at the turning. It had been a leaf. A mulberry leaf. He stood and crossed to the design. He stared at it.
"Perhaps it points the way out," he said more to himself than the others.
"What?" asked Talisen.
"Where the leaf of a tree is, perhaps that is the turning we are to take."
There was a silence, and then Brie said thoughtfully, "And perhaps because there were two brothers, there are two kinds of leaves."
"This is a mulberry," said Collun. "I remember seeing leaves of hawthorn, ash, and rowan earlier."
"There may be dozens of kinds of trees. How do we narrow it to the two we seek?" queried Talisen.
"Perhaps it lies in the riddle," Collun suggested.
"I don't see how..."
"Nor do I," confessed Collun.
"Well then, let us just choose one at random," said Talisen. "Although..." He paused. "You realize, don't you, that while one leaf may indeed lead us to freedom, another may lead us right back to Bricriu..."
There was another silence. Collun's eyes strayed to the pile of bones, and he shivered slightly.
The light in Silien's hand had grown dimmer, and they all noticed that his limbs were trembling with fatigue.
"What leaf is this?" asked Brie. Her voice was overly loud and echoed in the passageway.
"Mulberry," answered Collun.
"Then let us try mulberry," said Brie.
They began to move down the passage marked by the mulberry leaf, but Collun hesitated, reluctant to follow. "'In spring I am gay...,'" he murmured under his breath." 'In spring' ... spring ... winter..."
"Collun?" Talisen called back to him.
"I am coming," Collun said. He moved forward to join them. "What of this: The riddle names spring and winter. Perhaps the two trees we seek are ones that flourish in those two seasons..." He trailed off. Spoken out loud, his reasoning sounded unimpressive.
But Brie immediately spoke up. "It is well thought. Come, let us look for spring and winter trees."
Silien's light had grown dangerously low by the time they had narrowed their search. They chose the silver fir for the winter tree, as it was the only evergreen they found, and the hawthorn because of its vibrant spring blossoms.
"And now," wondered Talisen, "which of these lovely trees do you suppose leads to freedom and which to Bricriu's dungeon?"
Nobody spoke.
"Let us choose the fir. 'Twas my mother's birth tree," said Collun abruptly.
And so they took the turning with the silver
fir markings. As they continued on, they passed several turnings that bore the design of a hawthorn leaf, but they went straight on. At first, the tunnels kept slanting downward, and Collun began to fear they had chosen wrong. Silien was growing weaker and weaker. He could not muster strength even to talk. All the energy he had was focused on the dwindling ball of light glowing in his palm. If the Ellyl's light was to go out, thought Collun, they would be lost. They were all exhausted, hungry, and more than anything else, thirsty. They had finished the water in their skin bags some time ago.
Finally the way began to slant upward, and they felt a glimmer of hope. But going up took more effort.
And then, without warning, Silien's light faded. He had stopped for a moment and was leaning up against a wall, staring blankly down at his hand. The light guttered, like a candle, and then went out, plunging them into total darkness.
THIRTEEN
Nemian
Collun laid his hand on the tunnel wall to orient himself. If Silien was to fall into one of his long sleeps now, they would never escape the labyrinth. They'd die of dehydration. He fought down the panic that began to rise in him. They could be entombed in these narrow tunnels forever, tons of earth and rock lying between them and the open air. He saw again in his mind the pathetic pile of bones, and his throat closed up.
His hands shaking, Collun groped his way back to the Ellyl to see if he was asleep. He found Silien still upright, breathing shallowly. When he spoke, his voice was a cracked whisper, difficult to understand. Finally, though, Collun was able to make out the words "goat's thorn," the name of one of the herbs Collun carried in his wallet. He used it to heal coughs and sore throats.
Collun fumbled with the opening, and in the darkness his fingers sifted among the different herbs. He pulled out several leaves and smelled them to be sure they were goat's thorn.
"What is it?" asked Talisen through the darkness. "Has Silien fallen asleep?"
"No," Collun answered shortly.
He could hear Silien crush the leaves between his teeth. The Ellyl coughed several times, then they heard a faint humming sound. Collun realized that, once again, Silien was singing. His voice was thin and cracked, but the pink light slowly rekindled in his hand. It was not as bright as before, but it gave off enough light to see the drawings on the walls.
Collun and Talisen again supported Silien as they resumed moving forward, their minds and bodies numb.
And finally, almost without warning, they came to the end. They rounded a turning marked by the familiar silver fir marking, and in the flickering pink light they saw a rotting wooden barrier, about chest high, with ivy growing between the cracks.
Collun and Talisen put their shoulders to the door, and the sound of rotted wood splintering filled the tunnel. They scrambled up through several layers of decayed vegetation and finally emerged into a small copse of fir trees.
It was nighttime. Hundreds of stars twinkled above. The travelers gazed about numbly, taking deep breaths of the crisp autumn air. The Ellyl had already fallen asleep beside the tunnel's entrance; Fara settled quietly at his head.
Brie moved forward, following the sound of running water. She led them to a small, clear brook. They dropped to their knees and gratefully scooped handfuls of freezing water into their dry mouths. It made their teeth hurt and their stomachs ache with cold.
They filled their skin bags and took them back to Silien. They were able to wake the Ellyl just long enough to give him several deep draughts of the water.
Brie went off with her bow and soon came back carrying a small badger. Collun started a fire with his teine stone. The smell of roasting badger was torture to their empty stomachs as they waited for it to cook. The meat was tough and stringy but tasted delicious. They spoke little as they ate. And then they slept.
Collun awoke during the night. He sat up, chilled by the cold night air, and rekindled the fire. The moon was bright, and as he held his hands over the fire to warm them, he gazed at his sleeping companions.
Their faces were ashen with fatigue. Deep circles were etched under their eyes. Talisen's boots had holes in the soles, and Brie's clothing was dirty and worn. In his deep sleep, Silien looked more like a corpse than a living thing. The bones stood out under his skin, revealing the lines of his skull.
Collun felt a tightness in his chest. He could not allow his friends to go on endangering their lives.
He lifted his hand and absently rubbed the spot on his forehead where the scald-crow had brushed him. It seemed such a long time ago. But when his face was cold, as it was now, the numbness came back.
He knew they would not willingly let him go. He would have to slip away while they slept. He knew he should leave right now. They were all so deep in slumber that he would be able to get a good head start before they discovered he was gone. If only he were not so weary ... Perhaps just a few moments of sleep. Then he would formulate a plan.
Collun woke abruptly to the call of a wood thrush. He had let himself rest much longer than he intended. Wisps of ground mist hung about their campsite, and he could see the sky lightening in the east. He silently began to gather his things.
Brie let out a small cry in her sleep, and Collun gazed over at her. She looked even paler than she had the night before. Suddenly her eyes flew wide open, and there was an almost savage expression in them. She seemed to be staring directly at Collun.
"Emer," Brie said, her husky voice urgent. "And your father ... I have to tell you." Slowly her eyes shut, and she shifted her position on the ground. Her arm fell away from her neck, and Collun saw a dark shadowed area on the white skin. Then the shadow moved.
Collun froze.
Clinging to Brie's neck, just under the right side of her chin, was a black creature. Collun's first, irrational thought was that it was a scald-crow like the one pecking at Nessa's neck in his dream. But it was too small to be a scald-crow. It looked like a large black moth. Its body was squat and thick, and its black wings were as long as Brie's neck. They flapped open and shut slowly and rhythmically.
Collun dropped his pack. It made a thud as it hit the ground. Should he try to brush the creature away or grab it and pull it off? He was afraid to touch it. What if it had the same freezing poison in its wings as the scald-crow? Uncertainly he reached for his dagger. But if he tried to stab it, he might hurt Brie. Collun was torn with indecision as he stared down at Brie's neck.
"What is it, Collun? What's wrong?" Talisen said sleepily, rubbing his eyes, looking over at his friend in bewilderment.
Collun did not hear him. He bent over Brie, shifted his dagger to his left hand, and gritting his teeth, he wildly swatted at the loathsome creature, trying to knock it off Brie's neck. His hand skidded off the tips of its wings, and he felt ice-cold pain shoot up his fingers.
The creature swayed slightly but held fast to Brie's neck, its wings flapping faster. Collun shifted his dagger back to his numb right hand. The stone in the handle glowed slightly in the dim light of dawn. He would have to risk cutting Brie. He swept his dagger down. This time he made direct contact. The thing was dislodged.
Collun let out an involuntary cry as pain froze along his arm. His fingers went so numb that he could not bend them.
The creature let out an unearthly, high-pitched screaming sound and flew up into Collun's face. He stumbled back, switching the dagger from his useless right hand to his left. The creature's cry grew even more shrill as it circled and flew again at his head. Collun got a glimpse of a grotesque, swollen face, a face that was neither human nor animal, with small slitted eyes the color of blood. He ducked and once again blindly thrust his dagger into the air. The unearthly cry reached a deafening pitch and then suddenly stopped. Something fell at Collun's feet. The creature flew up into the air and disappeared.
His heart pounding, Collun dropped to his knees beside Brie and anxiously looked into her face. Her eyes were closed. There was a round black mark on her neck. Sheathing his dagger awkwardly with his left hand, Collun laid hi
s left forefinger at the pulse point in Brie's neck. To his relief a faint heartbeat thrummed under his touch.
"Brie? Wake up, Brie," he said, shaking her gently. But she did not respond. Talisen came to his side.
"What was it?"
"I do not know. It left this." Collun pointed to the round black mark on Brie's neck. "Its eyes were like the scald-crow's. I cannot wake her," Collun added, his voice bleak.
Something caught Talisen's eye, and he leaned over to pick it up. "Look," he said. "Ouch. It's cold." He held it up for Collun to see. It was black and made up of many small, shiny feathers, but the feathers were not soft. They were knife-sharp.
Collun took the black piece in his left hand. It was indeed ice-cold to the touch. He had to hold it with the end of his sleeve pulled down over it. "It looks like the tip of the creature's wing. I must have cut it off somehow."
"What's wrong with your arm?" asked Talisen suddenly.
"The thing did it ... When I touched it, it was cold, like this, but colder." He indicated the black piece in his hand. "It went into my hand and up my arm." He bent over Brie again and tentatively touched the black mark on her neck. It, too, was cold to the touch and hard like a crusted wound.
Collun crossed to Silien and tried to wake him, but he could not.
***
It was a long, dismal day. Collun would not leave Brie's side. He sat watching her face anxiously, feeling for her pulse every so often. At one point, Fara left her post at Silien's head and came to where Brie lay. She peered into Brie's face and let out a cry. With her long pink tongue the faol began to lick the girl's forehead, methodically working her way down to the chin. When Fara had finished, Collun checked Brie's pulse. He could have sworn it had grown slightly stronger, but still he could not rouse her.
Talisen heated some water from the nearby stream and tried bathing Collun's hand and arm, but they remained numb.
The Ellyl finally awoke long after dark. He was still weak, but fully alert. They quickly told him what had happened. He knelt beside Brie, examining the mark on her neck. Then Talisen showed him the tip of the creature's wing.
