Hero's Song

by Edith Pattou

  Then, as he bowed his head to make out the lettering, he heard the faint splash of water coming from underneath. His breath still short, he dug his fingers around the sides of the rock. It was a square slab, fashioned by man, not nature. He tried to pry the slab up, but he had to do more digging around the edges until it was loosened enough to move. Even then he had to use a stick as a lever to help raise it.

  He finally was able to slide the heavy rock off. Underneath was a pool of water. The sides were reinforced with white marbleized stone. The water rose to within a hand's length of the top. Collun could not tell how deep it was.

  Suddenly a silver shape broke the surface. It was a salmon with spots standing out on its gleaming body. It glided back down, out of sight. A few moments later, it reappeared and was accompanied by a second salmon. Then they were both gone.

  A man-made well with salmon swimming in it. Collun looked up suddenly. The trees around him were hazel trees, and he counted nine of them.

  The boy drew a deep breath. Beara's Well. Was it possible?

  Tentatively, Collun extended a finger and dipped it into the water. It was cool. It looked and felt no different from any other water.

  His heart beating loudly, Collun put his finger to his lips.

  NINETEEN

  Arracht

  "Collun?!" Crann's voice echoed in his ear. Collun blinked several times. Crann was standing over him, his hand on the boy's shoulder. The wizard's face was unreadable in the twilight.

  Collun blinked again. Twilight? When he had pried up the stone it had been the middle of the afternoon.

  "What...?"

  "You found the well, spriosan. Did you drink the water?"

  "Only a drop, on my finger. And then—"

  "There is no time to tell me more. The morgs have gained on us." The wizard leaned down and slid the stone back over the well. He pulled Collun, still in a daze, to his feet. The two ran through the apple orchard.

  "I found him," Crann called ahead.

  Soon they had left Trout Beck and the apple orchard far behind. The Ellyl horses were flying at the top of their speed.

  "Brie was scouting ... found the morgs coming up on us fast..." Talisen shouted to Collun as they rode.

  The moon had risen, casting an eerie brightness on the landscape. They were heading due west. Collun began to smell the sea.

  It was well after midnight when they came to the coast. Crann gestured for them to slow their horses. They were on a rocky cliff high above the ocean. The moon's light dappled the endless moving expanse below with silver. It was Collun's first glimpse of the Siar Muir. He was awestruck.

  Brie made another scouting foray and came back with the news that the morgs had slowed their pace and, strangely, that there were now only two in pursuit. Crann looked thoughtful.

  Following the coast north, they maintained a moderate pace for the next several hours. Collun began to feel drowsy, as he'd had little sleep that day. He had to struggle to stay awake. Crann came up beside him.

  They rode silently for a while, then Collun asked, "What happened to me by the well? The sun was high in the sky when I put my finger to my mouth, but when you spoke my name, the sun was setting. I remember nothing in between."

  "The waters of the well are unpredictable. Only Beara knows their secrets." He paused, then said in a measured tone, "Did you bring anything with you from the well, or from Beara's orchard?"

  "Only some apples and a few eggs. Why?"

  "You did not fill your skin bag at the well?"

  "No."

  Crann shook his head. "I sense something strange. What sort of eggs?"

  "The lapwing's. Oh, there was something else." He drew out the small apple he'd found in the nest.

  Crann gazed unblinking at the apple for several long moments.

  Collun grew uncomfortable. "What is it, Crann?"

  "Guard it well, spriosan," the wizard said softly. "You have found Beara's life."

  "You mean...?"

  Crann nodded. "The spell I told you of. It appears I was right. And she used this apple as the vessel." The wizard abruptly turned away, peering ahead.

  "The Forest Ceryddwyn," he said. Collun could see the outline of trees looming ahead.

  "Morgs!" shouted Brie.

  They turned to see two morgs streaking up behind them from the south and two more coming from the east.

  "Fly," called out Crann, and the horses raced along the cliff side.

  "Why do we not turn and fight, Crann?" yelled Prince Gwynedd. "We are five..."

  "No," shouted back the wizard. "To the forest."

  But as they came up on the Forest Ceryddwyn, they saw four more morgs on horseback waiting for them,

  Collun wheeled Fiain around, reaching for his dagger. He saw a volley of arrows fly through the air, and one of the morgs behind them went down.

  Crann had raised his oak staff. Gealach stood very still under him. The two morgs coming at them from the side were less than a hundred paces away when Crann shouted, "Stadanna Eacha!"

  The morgs' horses suddenly seemed to lose their footing and tumbled forward, hurling the morgs to the ground. One did not move from where he lay, while the other rose shakily and bent over his horse, trying in vain to get the animal to move.

  Crann, Gwynedd, and Collun turned to face the morgs coming from the forest, while Talisen and Brie grappled with the remaining morg, who had approached from behind.

  "Don't let it touch your skin!" Crann called back.

  Meanwhile Gwynedd, with an almost fanatical gleam in his eye, had drawn his sword. He was relentlessly urging Gerran forward. The horse's eyes were wide with fear at the sight of the oncoming morgs.

  "Hold, Prince," cried out Crann. "Stay out of the way!" But, Gwynedd did not heed the wizard's words and kept pushing Gerran on. Crann again lifted his staff high. He paused, trying to see beyond the prince to the advancing morgs. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get the words out, he was tackled from behind by the morg whose horse had gone down. The wizard was dragged off Gealach, who struck out vainly with her hooves.

  Fiain pivoted. Collun lashed at the morg with his dagger, but his blows fell short.

  Wizard and morg wrestled on the ground for several moments. Then with his staff, Crann landed a mighty blow to the side of the morg's head, and the creature lay still.

  Suddenly Fiain let out a shrill whinny. Collun was grabbed from behind. He looked down. The hand clutching his shoulder was disfigured by a blackened, puckered scar.

  He heard a hissing voice in his ear. "I told you we would meet again." He was looking into the yellow eyes of Mister Urlacan.

  The morg had shifted its damp hand to Collun's throat. The boy felt a torpor begin to steal over him. He was slowly being dragged off Fiain's back. But the horse kicked out savagely, dislodging the morg's grip.

  Collun fell to the ground. The force of his landing knocked the breath out of him. His forehead struck sharply against a rock. He reached up to feel a jagged gash. Blood was running down the side of his face.

  Wiping it away from his eyes, Collun saw that Gwynedd was surrounded by three morgs. The prince brandished his sword, keeping the creatures at bay, but one moved behind him. Collun let out a warning yell as he saw a long thin blade emerge from the folds of the creature's cloak. Gwynedd's horse bolted forward into the two morgs in front of them. The animal went down with a high-pitched bray of pain. The prince fell, too, a morg on top of him.

  Crann was on his feet, striding toward the fallen prince, his staff raised once again. Collun could not hear the words this time, but there was a great flash of light. Two of the morgs lay still, the fronts of their cloaks blackened.

  Collun glanced over to see Gwynedd, lying on his side, deal a death blow to the remaining morg, but the prince then crumpled and lay still.

  At the same time, Urlacan had drawn an evil-looking blade and was bearing down once again on Collun. The boy rolled away from the oncoming horse's hooves. He got unstead
ily to his feet, looking around for Fiain, who came up beside him. He tried to mount the Ellyl horse but stumbled and fell to his knees.

  Brie and Talisen were riding to Collun's aid, and Crann, too, was striding toward them.

  Urlacan's yellow eyes darted from one to the other of them. An arrow flew past his head and was followed by another, which struck him in the shoulder. He let out a grating, hissing sound of thwarted rage and abruptly swung his horse. The morg bore down on Crann, and before the wizard could react, Urlacan swooped, snatching the oak staff out of Crann's hands.

  The morg rode a short distance, then turned his horse so he was facing them. Collun watched in disbelief as, with a great shout of pain and exertion, Urlacan snapped the piece of wood into two pieces. He threw them to the ground. Black blood was flowing freely from the arrow wound in his shoulder.

  Then, twisting his body toward the Forest Ceryddwyn, he cried out, "Arracht!" He repeated the word in an even louder, more strident voice.

  A split second later a large figure emerged from the forest. It lumbered toward them on four feet with a speed that was surprising given its girth. It looked like a bear, with shaggy black fur covering its body. But as it drew closer, Collun saw it had the face of a man. It was a hideous face, misshapen and swollen, as though it had been thrown together haphazardly. It was headed toward Crann, picking up speed as it came.

  The wizard stood facing the creature Arracht. He made no move to retrieve his broken staff. Collun began to run toward him.

  As it drew close, Arracht raised itself on its hind legs. Then it lunged at Crann. The sheer force of the creature's forward motion propelled the wizard backward several paces, but he stayed on his feet.

  Arracht drove Crann still farther back, until they were standing near the edge of the sea cliff. Crann wrapped his long arms around the creature's neck, and the two stood so close together they almost merged into one.

  Then with a booming sound, the ground under Collun's feet heaved, knocking him flat. When he rolled over and looked for the wizard again, Collun saw him, still locked in an embrace with Arracht, standing on the very edge of the precipice.

  Then, in the flicker of a moment, they were gone.

  TWENTY

  Burial Cairn

  Collun screamed. He ran to the edge and looked over, his whole body shaking in horror. He could see nothing of either wizard or creature. The sheer cliff on which Collun now stood plunged almost straight down to a jagged outcrop of rock far below. The powerful waves that crashed against the rock, sending up spumes of white spray, looked almost miniature from the height at which Collun stood. His eyes desperately sought for a way to climb down, but it was obvious that the sheer walls were unscalable. He cried out in anguish and spun toward Urlacan, his dagger in his hand.

  He could see the morg clearly in the moonlight, sagging on his horse's back. In a ragged voice Collun cried out, "Urlacan!"

  The morg turned, and the triumph Collun saw in Urlacan's yellow eyes filled him with a feverish hatred. He began to run toward the morg, dagger upraised. The blue chalcedony glowed.

  Urlacan painfully spurred his horse into motion and, pulling sharply on the reins, guided him back toward the forest. Collun let out a cry. He looked wildly around for Fiain, but even as the Ellyl horse came to Collun's side, the morg reached the forest's edge and was quickly lost to sight.

  Collun stood still for a moment, ignoring the blood that trickled down his face. In a daze he turned his steps toward the sea cliff. When he got to the edge, he sank to his knees and looked sightlessly down at the crashing surf.

  "Collun?" It was Brie. He turned and met her eyes. His own grief was mirrored there.

  "He is gone," Collun said, his voice raw.

  "Yes," answered Brie.

  "How is Gwynedd?"

  "Poorly. Gerran, the horse, is dead."

  Collun stiffly rose to his feet. He crossed to the fallen prince. A long gash marked the right side of Gwynedd's body. It was as though someone had taken the sharpest of points and riven the flesh from the prince's ribs to his upper leg, where the wound was deepest. There was also a cut in the right side of his face. The handsome features were gray and distorted with pain.

  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 n
ear 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."