Edith Pattou - Hero's Song

As he slept on the ground during the second night, Collun dreamed a woman with pale eyes and pale hair came to him carrying a red ribbon entwined in her fingers. She slowly reached up and tied it around her own neck, her pale eyes holding him against his will. And then he blinked, and her eyes were dark and they were Brie's ... no, they were Nessa's, and the red was not a ribbon but blood, and there was a scald-crow at her neck, pecking and pecking. And then the crow was gone and the ribbon turned black. It wound itself tighter and tighter around her neck and it dripped with a clear thick fluid....

He woke with a soundless scream. He was bathed in sweat. The scars from his burns were stretched and aching. He remembered seeing a small stream that ran through a nearby thicket of young trees, and he shakily got to his feet. The moon was bright as Collun crossed to the trees, weaving his way through the slender trunks and listening to the soothing rustle of the cool night wind stirring the leaves. He found the brook and, kneeling beside it, removed his shirt. He splashed cold water on his arm and chest.

Collun sat quietly for a moment, shivering. He wasn't sure what made him think of it, but reaching into his pocket, he drew out the seashell Crann had given Mealladh. Collun thought about the wizard with his white beard and long fingers and green cloak. Tears blurred his vision for a moment. He missed Crann sorely.

He heard the muffled sound of footsteps in the bracken and looked up to see Brie coming toward him. He tucked the seashell back in his pocket as she crouched down beside him. "I had a nightmare," he said.

Brie clenched her hands. "I'm often troubled by bad dreams."

They were silent for a moment.

"I have been thinking of Crann," Collun said.

Brie nodded. "I think of him, too." They were silent for a few moments.

"I wonder what it will be like to live in Cuillean's dun," Collun said, beginning to shiver again. He quickly dried himself with his jersey and slipped it over his head. "It is still difficult to think of him as my father," Collun went on, his face thoughtful. "He is one of Eirren's greatest heroes."

"You are a far greater hero than your father ever was," Brie burst out, her tone fierce.

Collun looked at her in surprise, then laughed. "That is indeed generous of you, Brie, but—"

"It is the truth." There was an intensity to her manner that puzzled Collun.

"Why do you speak so?" he asked.

Brie bowed her head. Then she lifted her eyes to his. "Perhaps it is time I told you the truth," she said.'

Collun watched her, uncomprehending.

"You remember when I told you about my father's death?" Collun nodded. "I did not tell you everything. I purposely withheld something—something I thought might hurt you. The news of your true father was still so fresh." She fell silent again.

"What is it, Brie? Tell me."

"He was there."

Brie's voice was so soft, he could barely hear the words.

"What?"

"Your father was there. I saw him. While my father was being tortured and murdered, Cuillean was there, sitting on his horse, watching, not moving. He just sat and watched, and then he rode away with the Scathians." Brie's face had turned pale as snow.

Collun stared at her. "Cuillean ... Are you sure?"

Brie nodded. "That is the true reason I hated you when I first realized you were the son of Cuillean. It is also the reason I continued to travel with you. I thought you might somehow lead me to Cuillean. And to my father's murderers."

Collun did not answer. He gazed at a small silver fish darting through the clear water of the brook. He knew he ought to feel horrified by what Brie had told him, but all he felt was a deep weariness. Brie spoke of a man he had never met. There were many stories of Cuillean, but for him they were only stories. The man who had defeated Medb's armies, had wed Emer, had fathered Collun and Nessa, and had betrayed his blood brother, this man was a stranger to him.

"It is hard to believe. But perhaps there was a reason," Collun said.

"Perhaps, though I have spent much of the past year trying to discover it."

Collun looked down again at the silver fish. It was trying to find a way through an obstruction of leaves and wood. He reached his hand into the cold water and pushed aside a submerged log. The fish sped through the opening.

"Cuillean was once brave and honorable," Collun said slowly. "During the Eamh War he helped to save Eirren from the Queen of Ghosts."

"That is so," Brie responded.

"Emer loved him," Collun went on, "and he is my father."

Brie was silent. "I know. And I understand your choice to live in his dim. But for myself, I will never forgive him. Never."

Collun nodded his understanding. The breeze stiffened, and he shivered in his damp jersey. "You're cold," Brie said. She stood, offering him a hand up, and they made their way back to the campsite.

Silien left them the next day. They exchanged sad farewells with pledges to meet again. The Ellyl told them they were welcome in Tir a Ceol at any time, promising them a warmer greeting than the last time. He also vowed to be in Temair when Talisen completed his schooling and was named a bard.

The remaining three arrived at Cuillean's dun before twilight on the same day. The king's men were there to greet them.

Collun gazed at the small fortress with its battlements facing the sea. As he and Fiain walked through the gates, he felt a heaviness in his heart. This had been his father's home. But who was his father? Hero, traitor, grieving widower—and father? He pictured Cuillean standing on the battlements, staring out at the water, mourning the wife he loved and believed to be dead. Now, perhaps, they were both dead.

The soldiers told Collun they had searched the dun from top to bottom and, aside from several thriving colonies of mice, it was completely deserted.

Collun made his way through the dusty, chilled rooms. His melancholy deepened. He began to believe Cuillean truly was dead. There was an air of complete emptiness about the dun—no feeling of anticipation that he who had lived here would ever return.

But when Collun came out onto the land that stretched between the dun and the sea, his spirit lightened. He sank to his knees and crumbled the soil between his fingers.

Talisen was inside the dun, dangling his legs out an open window. Collun could hear the notes of a harp song beginning to take form. He smiled and brought a fistful of the earth up to his nose. He breathed in deeply. Brie silently came up beside him.

"Is the soil good?"

"It is good."

"The herbs will go there?" she asked, pointing.

"Yes," Collun nodded, "and roses for Nessa there. She loves roses."

"And the flower garden?"

"On that slope there, I think. First the heliotrope and next to it—"

"Valerian." Brie broke in with a smile.

"Because they grow well side by side," Collun replied, smiling back at her. "Then a small patch of paggle—we shall have paggle pudding every night—and harebell. And then blue clownrie and peppergrass..." Collun reached into his wallet of herbs and drew out a handful of seeds.

Brie knelt down beside him, her eyes alight. "But what of the drainage, and where will the compost pile go, and what do you think of myrtle there...?"

The last rays of the early spring sun warmed their faces as they bent over the ground, shoulders touching. A sea wind blew gently over the bluff, and. it carried the sound of their voices up into the ramparts of the empty dun.

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