Hero's Song

by Edith Pattou

"Yes," Brie answered.

  They got the prince to eat a few bites of bread and some broth and then, in the late afternoon, hoisted him astride the Ellyl horse Gealach.

  Before they rode off, they paid a last visit to Crann's cairn. Then, in a hoarse voice, the prince asked to see where Gerran was buried. As they paused by the fresh grave, Collun got a glimpse of Gwynedd's ravaged face. His heart squeezed with pity.

  Collun and Brie had studied Crann's map before setting out. Collun had tried to give the map to Brie for their journey to Temair, but she refused to take it.

  "I know the ways between here and Temair well enough. You are the one traveling into unknown territory."

  The plan was to journey together for a short distance, and then Brie, Talisen, and Gwynedd would veer off at a diagonal, heading southeast toward Temair.

  The time to part came quickly. Collun examined Gwynedd's wounds one last time. He freshened the prince's bandages, and then gave Brie and Talisen the rest of the comfrey leaves. Gwynedd was barely conscious but seemed to understand that Collun was leaving them.

  "Good luck," Collun thought he heard Gwynedd whisper through dry lips.

  Talisen clapped Collun on the back. "When you find Nessa of the black eyes, tell her I've learned a hundred new riddles and that I shall make a song just for her when she comes back."

  Collun agreed to do as Talisen requested. Then the two friends looked at each other, and without words, they clasped hands.

  Collun turned to say good-bye to Brie.

  "I will guard the dagger that was a trine well," she said.

  "Thank you," Collun replied. Their eyes locked for a moment. Collun suddenly felt as though the small dagger was turning in his heart. "Brie...," he began.

  "Yes?" Her eyes were bright.

  "Uh ... be careful," he said lamely.

  Brie nodded. "And you, too," she said, then swung herself onto her horse.

  Collun mounted Fiain, and the Ellyl horse broke into a brisk trot. Collun lifted his hand in farewell.

  As he came to the crest of a small hill, Collun took a last look back at the three figures. He felt a sudden surge of loneliness, but he set his jaw and focused his thoughts on what lay ahead.

  At twilight he arrived at the apple orchard.

  He and Fiain made their way to the copse of hazel trees. It was strangely silent; not a leaf stirred, not a bird called. Collun dismounted. The horse wandered off a short distance.

  With a prickling sensation on his scalp, Collun slid the rock slab off the top of the well. A salmon darted in and out of sight. Taking a cup from his pack, Collun filled it with water. He hesitated a moment. Crann had said the waters of the well could be dangerous if used improperly. And just a drop had caused him to lose several hours of his life.

  Resolutely he closed his eyes and concentrated all his thoughts on Nessa. He raised the cup to his lips.

  "I would not drink that, were I you," came a deep voice.

  Collun's eyes flew open. A tall, thin man dressed in black clothing stood before him. He was bald and had pale, unfocused eyes that gazed fixedly above Collun's head. The boy guessed the man was blind.

  "Why not?" Collun asked.

  "Well, I'm not certain, but it would either kill you outright or else drive you mad. One or the other," the man answered in an offhand manner.

  Collun lowered the cup, his hand shaking.

  "It is Beara's Well, you see. Only Beara can drink the water. Not even Mordu can drink."

  "Mordu?"

  The bald man pointed to himself. "Mordu serves the Cailleach Beara. And it is time for Mordu to prepare her dinner." He turned to leave. "Close the well when you go, if you please." Mordu began to walk away.

  Collun slid the rock into place over the well. He scrambled to his feet and fell into step beside the blind man who walked as surely as a sighted person. Fiain followed behind.

  "Would Beara help me, do you think?"

  "Have you lost something?" Mordu asked, his eyes staring straight ahead.

  "Yes. My sister."

  "That was careless of you," Mordu said accusingly.

  "It wasn't like that. She was kidnapped. And I go to rescue her. But I need to know where she is being held. Would Beara be able to tell me that? With the help of her well?"

  "More likely she would turn you into an apple seed and sow you in her orchard," Mordu answered in a matter-of-fact voice. "But you can try. Is that an Ellyl horse with you?"

  "Yes. Fiain is his name. The Cailleach Beara's magic must be powerful," Collun said nervously.

  "She likes to show off," the blind man said with a trace of scorn. "But old age has addled her," he added. "She forgets things. Like as not she'd think she was changing you into an apple seed, and you'd really turn out to be an apron. Or a swan. Now, that wouldn't be so bad. I've always liked swans."

  "I would prefer to stay as I am," Collun responded.

  "Suit yourself." Mordu shrugged. An old, derelict-looking house had come into sight. Mordu was heading toward it.

  "Is this where you live with the Old Woman of Beara?" asked Collun.

  Mordu nodded. "I would invite you in, but you did say you prefer your present shape ... Besides, she's been in a foul mood all day." They were passing through a small grove of apple trees that surrounded the house.

  "Why?"

  "Says she lost something. But when I asked what, she says she can't remember. I told her to try the well, but she just barked at me. It's not easy." Mordu sighed. "Good evening to you, then." The bald man bowed and entered the hovel.

  Collun stood irresolute outside the door. He did not like the sound of a foul-tempered hag with powerful magic and a penchant for shape changing. But he carried her life in his jersey pocket. If he was to give it to her, perhaps she would be grateful enough to grant him a favor. It was a risk, but what choice did he have? Blunder about Scath blindly on the off chance of running across his sister? Fiain gave a whicker.

  "I won't be long," Collun said to the horse. He stepped up to the door and knocked.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The Hag of Beara

  Mordu opened the door.

  "May I see the Cailleach Beara?" Collun asked politely.

  The blind man's face registered surprise, but he gestured Collun inside.

  The room was dark, lit only by a few candles. The inside of the house was as run-down as the outside. Dust lay thick on the floor, and the furniture was broken and worn.

  At one side of the room, Collun saw an old woman hunched over a large loom, her feet rhythmically pumping the treadles while her gnarled hands deftly worked the threads.

  Collun had never seen a person so old. Her skin hung loose on her bones, with cascades of wrinkles spilling down her face. The color of her skin reminded Collun of dried-out apple blossom petals.

  Collun's glance fell on the design in the cloth the old woman was weaving. When he saw what it was, he let out a low cry.

  Against a background of a dark blue sky and an ever-moving sea, two figures stood locked in a deadly embrace. It was Crann and the creature Arracht.

  It was the same nightmarish scene Collun kept seeing over and over in his head, both awake and asleep.

  "How did you know—?" Collun stumbled out.

  The hag's hands kept moving on the loom. "Beara knows. Past, present, and future. The morg called Arracht out of the forest, but it is because of the cowardly boy-child that the Wizard of the Trees is gone."

  Collun gasped for air as though from a blow to his stomach. He stepped back a few paces, leaning against a table to support himself.

  "Yes," the hag went on, her dry voice buzzing in Collun's ears. "Beara knows. It was because of you the wizard died. There is no one else to blame."

  Collun's cheeks were flame hot.

  "The boy-child knows Beara speaks the truth. The prince of Eirren lies broken, his horse dead. The wizard is gone. And why?"

  Collun trembled, tears smearing his vision. He thrust his hand inside his jersey, feeli
ng for the small golden apple.

  "Because the cowardly boy-child was too frightened to fight his own battles. To find his own sister. And this is the son of Cuillean, the brave, the mighty champion. How proud he would be of his only son." The crone opened her toothless mouth, cackling with laughter.

  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.