"I do not understand," he said. He closed his eyes and concentrated. His hands frantically scrabbled over the strings, but still no melody came forth.
He looked toward Crann with a bewildered expression.
"I wondered if they would let you keep their songs. I suspected not," Crann said, his voice touched with sympathy.
"What do you mean? Why, only yesterday..."
"Legend has it that if a human should ever learn an Ellyl song in Tir a Ceol, he will forget it the moment he leaves their land."
Talisen stared at the wizard. He suddenly tossed the harp aside in a burst of anger. "I might have known. Those deceitful Ellylon..."
"Did they say it was a gift that you might keep?"
"No," replied Talisen. "Nor did they say they would take it from me. I never thought..." He trailed off. "Wait. I wonder..."
He grabbed his harp again. His fingers flew over the strings, and the notes to a lovely melody began to emerge. He sang. It was a song of loss, and of regaining, and it reminded Collun of waves in the ever-moving, gleaming pattern of the sea.
When he finished, Talisen burst into laughter. "I will be a true bard yet," he said triumphantly. "Even if I cannot remember Ellyl music, I have still the ability to make songs of my own. It is one gift they could not take from me."
"Perhaps because they chose not to," said Crann in a low voice, but Talisen paid him no heed. He stayed up late that night tinkering with his new song. Collun lay on the ground, his cloak wrapped around him, and listened to the harp music. As he drifted into sleep, Collun thought about the father back in Inkberrow he had lost and the one he had gained, if Cuillean yet lived.
The next afternoon as they were traveling through a thicket of birch trees, Crann suddenly stopped. He gestured for them all to pause, and his face wore the look of one who listens deeply to a far-off sound.
"Someone follows us," he said tersely. "A rider on horseback. And he comes quickly."
Brie readied her bow, pulling an arrow from the quiver on her back. Collun and Talisen drew their daggers, while Crann sat unmoving on Gealach. Soon they could all hear the crackling sound of a horse's hooves traveling over the bracken. They waited, bodies tensed and weapons at the ready.
EIGHTEEN
The Lapwing
A dark horse with a rider crouching in the saddle burst through the thicket of birch trees.
"Hold, Gerran!" the rider said to his horse. The steed immediately came to a halt.
The companions looked, unbelieving, into the hand some face of Prince Gwynedd.
"At last!" said the prince. "I have been seeking you all this day and the last. I'd begun to believe that the Ellyl, Silien, had guessed wrong about your route to Scath. Well met, Collun!"
"Prince Gwynedd," Collun greeted him stiffly. He cast a darting glance at Brie.
"You are Gwynn and Aine's son?" asked Crann, moving his horse forward.
"Yes. And you must be the wizard Crann. It is an honor to meet you." Gwynedd bowed his head respectfully. "So, son of Cuillean—," the prince began, but stopped when he saw the expression of surprise on Collun's face. "Yes, Silien told us everything when he got to Temair. I can see the resemblance now."
"Did Queen Aine agree to the comhairle?" queried Crann.
"Most assuredly. All of Temair is buzzing with the news. It is truly an historic occasion."
"Why are you not there?" The words popped out unbidden. Collun hoped his tone did not betray him.
"I have come to rejoin the quest that the traitor Bricriu did his best to thwart. Silien told me of your journey to Scath. If you are to tangle with the Queen of Ghosts herself, you will need another sword."
"I hope it will not come to that," said Crann.
"What happened to Bricriu?" asked Talisen.
"When I returned to Temair and discovered the message was a hoax, we thought at first there had been some sort of mistake," related Gwynedd. "Bricriu has long been a friend to my mother and father. But when I went back to Bricriu's dun with a party of soldiers, we found it deserted. A search of the dun revealed evidence of Bricriu's collusion with Medb."
"So he has escaped?" said Talisen.
"No doubt he is in Scath by now," said Gwynedd.
"Come," interrupted Crann, "we must not delay further."
When they began moving forward, Collun noticed that Gwynedd gravitated naturally to a spot beside Brie. She greeted him warmly. Collun forced himself to look away.
That night over the fire Gwynedd reported that the last news they had received from the border was ill.
"Rumors of an invasion are rife, and it has been several weeks since any messengers have been able to get through," said the prince. "Even before Silien arrived in Temair, my mother was preparing for war. The proposed alliance between Tir a Ceol and Eirren gives everyone new hope."
Crann nodded gravely. Then he turned to Brie. "Are you fresh enough to scout for us? We should not relax our vigilance."
Brie nodded quickly and began to move toward her horse.
Gwynedd jumped up. "She should not go alone."
"No," interrupted Crann. "Brie is an accomplished tracker and trail finder. And one is less easily spotted than two."
"Crann is right," said Brie, swinging herself onto her horse.
Collun watched as Brie rode out of sight, her hand upraised in farewell. He resented Prince Gwynedd's protective gesture—despite the fact he had had the same impulse.
Collun woke well before dawn. He scanned the campsite quickly. Brie had not returned.
Crann was keeping watch and sat by the fire, brewing a pan of chicory. He held out a steaming cupful as Collun sat beside him. Sipping the nutty hot liquid, he looked sideways at Crann. The wizard's face was drawn and troubled.
"Is something wrong?" asked Collun anxiously.
Crann turned toward him and smiled. "Do not worry, spriosan. I'm certain Brie is fine. She will be back with us soon."
Collun relaxed. "What is spriosan?" he asked.
"Ah, it is the old word for twig or little branch. I hope you do not mind it." Collun shook his head. Then Crann said, "You asked if something is wrong. The answer is yes. I have been thinking of the Firewurme. Collun, what do you know of it?"
"Only what you have told me."
"Perhaps it is time I told you more," the wizard said. "I hope you will never see it, but it is well for all Eirrenians to be prepared." He drew a breath.
"In form, the Firewurme is much like the earthworms you find in your garden, only it is the size of a dun. Its body is supple and wrinkled, and it gleams pale white. It has no teeth, nor does it breathe fire. But in the Firewurme's white skin there is death, for it secretes an oozing, colorless guam, or sram in the old language, and this guam burns without flame. It is said to strip flesh from bone in a matter of minutes."
Collun shivered at the wizard's words.
"It has a long black tongue," continued Crann, "which is also coated with the deadly sram, and the tongue moves with lightning speed. The Firewurme cannot be harmed through its skin. It is many layers deep and, like its earthworm cousin's, can regenerate itself. It is rumored that its only vulnerable point is the eye, but the creature's eyelids are as hard as stone.
"According to the Ellyl who came to Tir a Ceol from Scath, it appears the monster lies quietly and shows no sign of leaving the island in northern Scath where it now dwells. But if Medb plans to place the Wurme at the head of her army..." Crann sighed deeply. "Yes, I am troubled by the Firewurme. And frightened, spriosan. All the comhairles and armies of the land will amount to naught if the Firewurme comes to Eirren."
Collun refilled his cup, willing his hand not to shake.
Crann shifted his position on the log they shared. "I am frightening you."
"No," began Collun, his cheeks reddening.
Crann gave a brisk shake to his head. "It is well to be afraid. You should never be ashamed when evil frightens you, spriosan. It is what will make you strong."