Edith Pattou - Hero's Song

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.

TWENTY-FOUR

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.