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, feeling 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."