Hero's Song Read online

  "My next two arrows will find your hearts, if you have any," called the youth.

  "He speaks the truth." It was Job Wall's voice. The large man stood at the barn's entrance, holding a bloodstained cloth to his stomach. In the other hand he held a long knife.

  "Master!" cried out Rince.

  "The boy is called Breo-Saight, or Fire Arrow. It is said that he has yet to miss his mark," boomed Job Wall.

  The Scathians hesitated and looked to Mister Urlacan. The morg seemed to have shrunk, and his breath was coming in noisy rasps. Collun watched in horror as Urlacan broke the tip off the arrow and pulled the shaft through his hand. Blood flowed freely. The morg darted another look back at the brightening sun, and a shudder went through his body. He snarled to the Scathians, "Come, fools."

  Then the morg pivoted and made a strange little bow to Collun, saying, "We will meet again." His yellow eyes flashed up at the boy in the hayloft, then back at Collun. Mister Urlacan pulled his hood down over his face, leaving only a thin crack to see through. Trailing black blood, he hurried out of the barn. The three Scathians followed behind.

  Job Wall watched from the barn door. "They're gone," he said after a short silence.

  Collun retrieved his dagger. The stone in the handle again seemed to glow in the dawn light. Breo-Saight nimbly descended from the hayloft, his bow slung over his shoulder. Collun's eye was caught by the design carved into the upper limb of the bow. It was the likeness of a large bear.

  "We are in your debt, Breo-Saight," Collun said, extending his hand.

  The youth shrugged, shaking the offered hand. "Like Job Wall, I do not like Scathians. Or morgs, though this is the first I've seen," he added.

  ***

  When they were back in the inn, Collun tended to Job Wall's wound with his herbs. The landlord had protested that it was only a slight injury, but his face was pale from loss of blood.

  As soon as Collun had finished with him, Job Wall sent off two of his men to discover, if they could, where Urlacan and his men had gone.

  Rince served breakfast to the three boys. Talisen and Breo-Saight set to with a hearty appetite, but Collun barely touched his food. He stood, crossed to the window, and peered out anxiously.

  "Come back here and eat," said Talisen. "The grannach is excellent."

  Collun shook his head.

  Talisen and Breo-Saight were on their second helping when Collun let out a sound. "Someone is coming." Job Wall joined him at the window.

  "Ah, that is Ned. Let's see if he has anything to report." The large man left the kitchen.

  He returned soon after. "Ned says that Farmer Olmveg saw some men on horseback out on the edge of his west field. There's an old shed out there. Could be the morg is sheltering there until nightfall. If you leave now, you may be able to get a jump on them." Job Wall paused, looking speculatively at Collun. "Where are you headed?"

  "North," said Collun, "but not by the road."

  "Have you a route in mind?" asked Breo-Saight.

  Collun shook his head.

  "Hardly," said Talisen, his mouth full.

  "I know a way," said Breo-Saight, "and would offer myself to you as guide. I, too, am heading north, and like you, I have no wish to cross paths with the morg Urlacan."

  Collun hesitated. Aside from Breo-Saight's skill with bow and arrow, they knew nothing of him.

  "Better take him up on it," Job Wall put in matter-of-factly. "There's no one knows these lands better. Besides, that bow arm of his may come in handy."

  "I don't suppose you sing, Breo-Saight?" Talisen asked, giving his bowl to Rince for a third helping of grannach. "We could use another voice by the fire at night. My friend Collun here has a tin ear."

  "I sing a little," the youth replied, his eyes on Collun.

  Collun suddenly came to a decision. "We would welcome your company."

  Breo-Saight smiled. "In that case, please call me Brie. It is the name I go by among companions."

  Job Wall provided them with a generous supply of food, water, and ale. Rince readied the mare as well as a pony the landlord had added at the last minute.

  "There are three of you now," he said, refusing any additional payment. "Whatever your business is, if a morg is out to stop you, it must be something worth doing."

  Collun thanked the large man and soon they were on their way, Brie and Collun on the mare, with Talisen following behind on the pony.

  Brie guided the horse with a sure hand, moving across the moorland at a brisk pace. They traveled hard, then stopped at midday for food and rest since none had slept the night before. In the late afternoon, as the sky cleared and the sun shone, Talisen softly sang all twenty-four verses of the "Cuckoo Song" to keep their spirits up. There was no sign of Scathians or the morg.

  Brie led them on an easterly route, veering at a wide angle from the high road.

  "The land we will travel over is much like this," Brie said, gesturing at the undulating moors around them. "Until we come to the Forest of Eld."

  Collun had heard of the Forest of Eld back in Inkberrow. There were tales of men who had lost their way for half a lifetime in the ancient and massive wood, as well as those who never returned at all.

  "I know of only two ways through the Forest of Eld," said Brie. "One is the high road, which cuts through the western end. The other is a path that winds through Eld's very center. Not many know of it. The safest course would be the high road, at least in terms of the forest itself. It is well maintained and the wood is not so dense. But it is also the first place Urlacan will be watching."

  "And the path?" asked Collun.

  "I have traveled it once before and met no trouble. But it is overgrown in places and not always easy to follow." Brie paused. "I would cast my vote for the path, but it is up to you."

  Collun hesitated. "There is no way around the forest?"

  "Not unless you wish to add a month or more to the journey."

  "The path it is, then," said Collun, trying to set aside his fear.

  They made camp that night near a dense thicket of rowan trees. Brie left them for a time, and when he returned he reported, "I see no sign of Scathians or Urlacan. So far."

  During Brie's absence Collun had made a stew using turnips and salted meat from Job Wall's kitchen. He had added acorns, rosemary, and small wild onions. In between bites, Brie complimented Collun on his culinary skill, then asked why he and Talisen were journeying to Temair.

  "My sister," Collun said slowly, "was living in Temair. We received word that she is missing. I go there to aid in the search."

  Brie shook his head. "These are dark times in Eirren. You said you live in Inkberrow?"

  Collun nodded.

  "Do you live with your mother and father?"

  Collun nodded again. "My father runs the smithy in Inkberrow."

  "What is his name?" Brie asked. "I traveled through Inkberrow once and had my horse shod by an able blacksmith."

  "Goban," Collun replied, refilling Brie's bowl with stew. He glanced up briefly and thought he saw a curious expression in the boy's eyes.

  But all Brie said was, "That was the name. I remember now."

  "And you, Breo-Saight? Where are you from?" asked Talisen, handing his bowl to Collun for seconds.

  "A small town northwest of Temair. You would not know it."

  "And your mother and father?"

  "My mother died when I was born. That is a handsome harp you carry, Talisen. What is the workmanship?"

  "I do not know," answered Talisen. "Are you trying to change the subject, Brie?"

  "Not at all. It is only that I fear my history would bore you. I suspect yours is much more intriguing. What is the story of your harp?"

  Talisen paused but was clearly unable to resist the temptation to talk about himself. "I have had it since I was a babe."

  Brie raised his eyebrows.

  "They found me one day, the good people of Inkberrow, in the middle of town, wearing no more than a linen diaper and this harp
strung across my back. I was barely able to walk, they tell me, and the harp was twice my size, but I was able to balance it with ease."

  "It was strapped to your back?" Brie responded in disbelief.

  "And the linen cloth of the diaper was soaked through with seawater, among other things," Talisen said with a grin.

  "Inkberrow is nowhere near the shore," Brie pointed out.

  "Exactly!" responded Talisen. "Is it not strange and mysterious?"

  "It makes a good story, anyway," said Brie with a smile.

  "The truth often does," Talisen retorted. "Now, how about some music?" He began one of the old songs, badgering Brie to join in while Collun washed their dinner utensils in a nearby stream.

  Though Brie's voice was softer than Talisen's, it was true and clear, and the two harmonized well. Collun rejoined them by the fire and listened while they sang several more songs, until Talisen suggested a song about the hero Cuillean.

  Brie rose and stretched, saying, "That's enough for me tonight."

  "Do you not care for songs of Cuillean and the Eamh War?" asked Talisen.

  Brie shook his head. "It is only that I am weary. And we need to be up early."

  "Tell me," Talisen went on, ignoring Brie's pointed yawn, "is it true what we have heard in Inkberrow? That Cuillean has been missing for over a year?"

  "As far as I know, it is true," replied Brie.

  "Do you think he is dead?"

  "Perhaps."

  As Collun rose to stir the glowing embers of the fire, he felt Brie's eyes on him. Watching the small sparks that flew up, Collun said, "I am tired, too, Talisen. Stop pestering Breo-Saight with your questions and let us get some sleep."

  ***

  The next day the weather stayed brisk and clear, and they made good progress. But in the late afternoon they came across a wide swath of knee-high burdock. Sticky burrs jabbed at the animals' legs and flanks and clung to the boys' clothing. The mare occasionally reared with an exasperated whinny, while the pony constantly shied and finally came to a complete halt, refusing to budge another inch.

  After several minutes of futile cajoling and kicking, Talisen let out an ear-blistering curse and swung himself off the stubborn pony. "Damnable hurr-burrs," he muttered, peeling several off his clothing. "They're driving me mad."

  "There are worse things than hurr-burrs," replied Brie, pulling up on the mare's reins.

  "Perhaps, but that doesn't make their bite any less sharp," countered Talisen testily.

  "I believe it does."

  "Have you always been so stoic, Breo-Saight?"

  "My father raised me so."

  "Is that so? Tell me, are you your father's only son?"

  "Yes," Brie answered shortly.

  "I think not."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  With a sly grin, Talisen suddenly dipped into a low bow. He began to recite in a singsong voice, "'A father's child, a mother's child, yet no one's son.' Am I not right... m'lady?"

  Collun stared down at Talisen. "What brand of nonsense is this?"

  Talisen laughed and said to Brie, whose face had turned a vivid shade of red, "You can't deceive a bard when it comes to the fair sex. We are a sensitive breed, you know."

  Brie glared at Talisen, her eyes like lightning in a storm. "I am a warrior and a marksman, no matter what my sex, and I understand little of the sensitivities of a bard!"

  "Temper, temper, my dear girl. I believe I will re-name you Flame-girl. Much more apt than Fire Arrow, don't you think?"

  Brie swung the horse around furiously, urging it forward.

  "Is it true?" Collun asked, staring at the back of Brie's head.

  At first she did not answer. Then, stopping the mare, she turned toward Collun. "Yes," she said simply.

  Collun stared at her. "I do not understand. Why do you disguise yourself?"

  Brie swung herself off the horse and Collun followed. "I am the daughter of a warrior who wanted a son," Brie began. "When I was a babe, my father laid the marksman's bow and arrow on my chest, even though I was a girl. My mother had died bearing me, and when my father realized there would be no son for him, he trained me as he would a boy. I learned quickly and he was pleased. When I first started traveling on my own, I was often mistaken for a boy. I decided it was easier and safer to maintain the charade."

  "I never guessed." Collun examined her face closely, trying to picture her with longer hair and wearing feminine clothes. She was not beautiful—not, at least, the way Nessa or Emer was. Yet Brie's face had strength, with angles and shadows that drew his eyes. Her limbs were lithe, he realized now, in a way that most boys' were not.

  He saw something else in her eyes, something unknowable, sadness perhaps, mixed with something darker.

  "Of all people, it is extraordinary that he"—she gestured back toward Talisen, who was plucking hurr-burrs off the pony's coat as he muttered encouraging words to the stubborn animal—"should have seen through my disguise. There are only one or two others who know the truth."

  "We shall not reveal what you do not wish revealed," Collun promised.

  She turned and smiled at him. There was a radiance in her face when she smiled that made Collun stare. He dropped his gaze quickly.

  Brie's smile dimmed as she cast a doubtful glance back toward Talisen.

  "Do not worry," Collun said. "Talisen can keep a secret when he understands it is important to do so. I will tell him."

  "Thank you."

  The weather stayed fair and their progress the next day was even better than the two before. But just before twilight, as they came to the top of a rise high enough to command a view of much of the surrounding countryside, they spotted a band of riders coming up behind them. They were too far off to recognize, but the companions all had the same thought: Scathians.

  Brie quickly led them down the other side of the rise and along the bottom of the moor. For the next several hours they traveled hard, moving at the fastest pace the pony could muster.

  They finally came to a large stream. Brie urged the mare forward. After hesitating a few moments, the animal plunged into the water, which came up to her knees. The pony took a little more cajoling, but it, too, went in. Talisen let out a groan as the chilly water filled his boots.

  "It will make it harder for the Scathians to track us," said Brie.

  "If you don't mind fish swimming between your toes," Talisen grumbled.

  They traveled along in the stream until dawn, when they ate and rested for several hours. Then they resumed the same urgent pace of the night before, zigzagging across the land and trying to keep away from the tops of the moors, where their pursuers might be able to spot them.

  By late afternoon Brie felt confident they had shaken the Scathians, at least for the time being.

  They made camp that night on the far side of a hill.

  "The Forest of Eld is not far now," said Brie as they rubbed down the travel-weary animals. "And once we get through the forest, Temair is less than a week's journey beyond."

  "How long will it take to get through Eld?" asked Collun.

  Brie shrugged. "It is hard to say. At best nine or ten days."

  While searching for kindling, Collun noticed a strange kind of ivy growing near their campsite. He had never seen its like before—thick black stems with broad leaves shot through with dull red veins. It grew along the ground in a dense mass, clinging mostly to the opposite side of the hill on which they were camped.

  That night, as they ate the last of Job Wall's provisions, Collun became aware of a strange odor. It smelled like something dead that had been lying in the sun too long. Perhaps there was a skunk nearby, he thought.

  Then Talisen drew out his harp and badgered Brie into teaching him several songs she knew. Collun found himself feeling envious when he heard how well Brie and Talisen harmonized.

  "One more," Talisen urged as Brie began to yawn. But she suddenly let out a small cry. A tendril of green was shooting up her leg, winding round and round her
calf, her knee, her thigh. The ivy Collun had noticed on the other side of the hill had crept into their campsite and was growing at an impossible rate.

  Talisen dropped his harp and reached down to push away a tendril that had begun to encircle his ankles. Collun heard the pony let out a terrified bray. He looked over to see it and the mare kicking out at a mass of green that was clutching their legs. The pony went down, then the mare.

  Suddenly Collun felt pressure on his ankle and looked down to see a green shoot climbing his own leg. When he put his hand down to fend it off, it changed course to wind around his hand and up his arm.

  The plant was tough. When Collun tried to lift his arm, it wouldn't budge. It felt as if it had been bound by metal bands. Meanwhile, ivy swarmed up his other leg, and no matter how he struggled or tried to squirm away, the tendrils kept winding and cinching. Soon Collun could not move his legs at all.

  By now Brie was almost completely encased. The ivy even concealed her face. A squirming, shouting Talisen was covered to his shoulders, arms bound to his sides.

  Collun had managed to keep his other arm free by sticking it straight out to the side, and his hand found a knife they had been using to cut cheese and bread for their meal. It was not the dagger his father had made for him, but its edge was almost as sharp. He brought the blade down hard on the thick stem of the vine that imprisoned his right hand. Though his movements were clumsy, he made direct contact.

  To his horror the knife didn't even score the surface of the thick stem. Even as he sawed, an ivy shoot spiraled up his left arm and back down, binding the arm awkwardly across his chest, the knife still in his hand.

  The three travelers and their animals were now completely sheathed. The only sounds that could be heard were the crackling of the campfire and the pulsing, scratching noise the ivy made as it blanketed the hill.

  Collun could see out of only one eye; the other was sealed shut by an ivy stem. His nostrils were only partially covered, so he was still able to breathe. The smell was not like that of any ordinary plant, and he realized this was the rotten odor he had noticed earlier. The stench made him gag.

  The vine was still growing. Collun knew it was only a matter of time before his sight and his breath were cut off for good. He struggled against panic. He remembered, as if from a long time ago, Emer's voice as she pressed the lucky stone in his hand. "So you will know that even as you lose your breath, it will always come back." But the lucky stone was in the dagger that had been a trine, which was now buried at his waist under layers of ivy.