"Then you will need this." Brie drew Collun's dagger out and handed it to him.
Collun shook his head. "Did you not hear what I just said? If taking Nessa was part of a plan to lure me into bringing the stone to Thule, then I would be playing right into her hands."
"Perhaps," answered Brie. "But the more I thought about it, the more I felt the dagger and the stone belong with you, Collun. And I believe the wizard Crann felt so, too. Otherwise he would have cautioned you against carrying it into Scath."
"But..."
"We will not let the Queen of Ghosts get her hands on the Cailceadon Lir," Brie said, her voice confident. Collun slowly took the dagger from her. Then he stopped.
"What do you mean 'we'?" He gazed around the campsite. "And where is your horse?"
Brie smiled. "I did not come just to give you the dagger. I go with you to Thule, Collun. I gave the messenger Poddup my horse. He will guide Talisen and Gwynedd to Temair much more surely and quickly than I ever could."
Collun shook his head. "No. I would not ask you to face this kind of danger..."
"You did not ask me." She paused. "Anyway, the others are halfway to Temair by now. I'm afraid you are stuck with me."
Collun gazed at Brie, searching her face. Finally he nodded in acceptance. "But I face the Firewurme alone." Brie opened her mouth to protest, but Collun held up his hand. "If you do not promise me this, I will ride off and leave you to find your way back to Temair on foot."
Brie was silent for several moments. "Very well. I promise." She washed out the pan and cups she'd used and doused the fire. Swinging up behind Collun on Fiain, she said, "Talisen grumbled a good deal when I told him what I proposed to do. He accused me of wanting all the glory of the quest for myself, but finally he agreed it was for the best. They dropped me several leagues from here, and I walked the rest."
Fiain broke into a brisk trot, and the campsite was soon far behind them.
The wind grew more bitter as the day wore on. Though Collun could not be sure of the date, he knew it was near the beginning of the month of Ruis, and winter had its grip upon the land.
They had been traveling for three days when they came to a small river, and they realized they had passed into Scath sometime that afternoon.
The terrain grew rockier and the trees fewer, though there were occasional small clusters of pine and yew trees. As Mealladh had promised, the route they followed was uninhabited.
They came across a deserted village on the fourth day. Collun remembered Crann telling them that when Medb came to power, she had moved the Scathians from outlying villages and farms in order to exert her control more easily over them. Now most of the population lived in huge cities hewn out of black rock cut into the sides of the Mountains of Mourne. The only farms that remained were spread out from the cities. The more remote areas were completely empty of people.
The weather was cold and overcast, but it stayed dry. Their journey began to take on a sameness as they rode all day and into the night, sleeping for only a few hours before setting out again.
Collun began to feel an increasing sense of urgency. Though he dreaded reaching their destination, he pushed forward relentlessly.
On the morning of the fifth day of their journey, Collun awoke from an uneasy sleep. Brie had already risen and kindled a fire. They had taken shelter in a deserted Scathian village. Collun's eyes nervously scanned the dark shapes of the buildings, indistinct and eerie in the dim light of dawn. He could see his breath. He held his hands over the fire Brie had made. They had not yet begun using the fur-lined cloaks Mealladh had given him, but Collun could tell the time was fast coming.
Brie poured him a cup of hot chicory sweetened with a splinter of chocolate Mordu had supplied. Collun took it from her gratefully, breathing in the steam that rose from it. As he took his first sip, Collun heard the call of a bird. Then he realized what it was that had awakened him. His body tensed. A scald-crow.
TWENTY-THREE
The Blizzard
There was only one bird, but it had spotted them. It circled several times, with each circle dipping lower and tighter. Collun reached for his dagger, while Brie silently lifted her bow to her shoulder and notched an arrow to the string. Then, unexpectedly, the scald-crow spun off, winging away at high speed in an easterly direction. Collun watched until it had disappeared. Without a word, Brie doused the fire with the leftover chicory. They hurriedly packed up and mounted Fiain. The Ellyl horse sensed their urgency at once and set off at a gallop.
"I wonder how long it will take the bird to reach Medb's dun," Collun said, his heart pounding.
He scanned the sky. Outlined as they were against the stark landscape, he and Brie were easy to spot from above. He shuddered, remembering the ice-dark feeling of the scald-crow feather that had brushed his forehead months ago.
Brie pointed to the clouds. "Look. Snow blossoms," she said.
Collun looked up. Indeed the clouds had changed, taking on the shape of gigantic white flowers with streaks of gray radiating from their centers.
"A storm is coming," Brie said.
"Will it hide us?" Collun asked with a flicker of hope.
"Perhaps," answered Brie, but she sounded worried.
The first of the white flakes began to fall by late afternoon. They brought out Mealladh's fur-lined cloaks and put them on. The snowflakes were thick, and they clung stubbornly to eyelashes and hair before melting.
Their cloaks were soon damp, though they kept the rest of their clothing mostly dry. Brie and Collun snuggled into the hoods gratefully. The snow was piling up.
They came upon a dense bank of red-berry juniper shrubs and decided to stop there for the night. They dug out a small shelter beside the bushes, and though it was difficult to kindle a fire, they finally managed to get a small blaze going. Except for the apple Mealladh had given Collun, they were close to the end of their provisions. Brie was able to find little game in the snow.
Holding the map up to the flickering light of the fire, Collun and Brie estimated they were well over halfway to the Isle of Thule. But Brie was worried about the snow. There was danger in traveling through a blizzard, especially in a hostile land with little hope of shelter and food. She showed Collun how to make coverings for their hands by cutting up an old jersey and securing it at the wrist with twine.
They slept huddled together under the prickly juniper branches. Collun occasionally heard Fiain snort and stamp his feet to keep warm.
When they woke to the dim light of the winter sun, the snow was still falling lightly. The countryside around them was swathed in white, an undulating series of curves, broken only by the knob of an occasional tree.
With fingers made clumsy by the cold, they rekindled the fire and melted snow to drink. They carefully portioned out the last of their food, saving the rest of the dried fruit for Fiain. Collun gave the horse a vigorous rubdown, dusting the snow from his mane.
Soon they were under way. The snow, which had been falling only lightly when they awoke, began coming down more heavily as the afternoon progressed. The wind blew harder from the north, swirling snow into their faces. Fiain walked slowly, his head bowed low. The whirling whiteness became so thick that Collun could barely see beyond Fiain's ears.
There was no way to tell in which direction they were going. Despite the Ellyl horse's keen sense of direction, Collun did not think it possible that he would be able to hold to their course. It took all the animal's energy simply to keep moving through the blizzard.
"Collun." He could just hear Brie's voice over the whistling sound of the wind.
"Yes?"
"Try not to fall asleep. There is danger in sleep when you are cold."
They lapsed into silence. Collun shut his eyes and listened to the whishing of the wind and to the muffled sound of Fiain's hooves plodding through the deep drifts of snow. The fur of his hood was rimmed with tiny icicles that pricked his face. The large flakes of the day before had turned into small, fierce pellets of ice that hammered relentlessly at their bodies.