He set off.
THREE
Talisen
It was a fine morning. The air was cool, but the sun warmed Collun's face. Had this been a short walk into Inkberrow for seed and bulbs, his spirits would have been high.
Uneasily he remembered the sword buckled at the hip of Fial's man, Quince. There was a time, he had heard, when the high road between Inkberrow and Temair had been safe. But that was before Medb had named herself queen of Scath, a country that lay to the north of Eirren.
Long ago Scath had been part of Eirren, consisting mostly of the country's sparsely populated northern reaches. It was an area with a harsh climate and rocky soil, and it stretched with many fingers into the northern sea.
Collun had learned of Scath from the coulin, the old songs of Eirren. The songs told of a dark lord named Cruachan, who, skilled at wizardry, had spread his power like a black shadow over the desolate north. He rose up against Amergin, the bard who ruled Eirren, and calling the land Scath, Cruachan named himself its ruler. To strengthen his power and ensure his claim, he allied himself with morgs, evil creatures who dwelled in the northern island kingdoms of Usna and Uneach.
When the morgs had fulfilled their bargain with the dark lord and established him in his kingdom, most returned to their own lands, preferring the perpetual night and cold temperatures of Usna and Uneach. But some stayed. And those Eirrenians who had chosen to remain in Scath, and who were loyal to Cruachan, now called themselves Scathians.
Medb, the present queen of Scath, was a descendant of Cruachan. It was rumored that morg blood also ran in her veins. She was called bhannion annam, Queen of Ghosts.
The border between Scath and Eirren had from the beginning been an uneasy one, but never more so than when Medb named herself queen. She demanded of the young king and queen of Eirren that the border be opened and that unrestricted travel be allowed between the two countries. The king and queen had agreed to Medb's demands. But the Northerners who came into Eirren roamed in bands with strange weapons and brutal faces, and they preyed on those who traveled Eirren's roads. The rulers of Eirren swiftly placed reasonable and just restrictions on those entering Eirren from the north.
Medb responded by invading Eirren.
The invasion was hastily mounted, but its savage and unexpected force wreaked devastation on northern Eirren. Forests burned, homes were laid waste, and countless Eirrenians lost their lives.
Led by young King Gwynn of the long shoulders and burning dark eyes and a handful of brave, fierce men, the army of Eirren set forth to meet Medb's deadly host.
The Eamh War, named for the plain on which the tide of battle finally turned, lasted for two years. Eirren ultimately triumphed, and the men who had stood at the head of her army were named heroes. Chief among them was a young man called Cuillean, whose bravery became legend in Eirren. Many songs were composed lauding his mighty deeds. It was said that on the Eamh Plain alone, Cuillean had single-handedly killed more than a hundred Scathians.
A truce was forged, and for fifteen years it was upheld. In response to overtures by a seemingly repentant Medb, the king and queen of Eirren even reopened the border, allowing restricted travel between Eirren and Scath. But in recent years the roads had gradually become unsafe again, and there were many who feared another war between Scath and Eirren. Talisen had learned this from the traveling bards, although few in Inkberrow were much concerned with the news.
Collun suddenly thought of the kesil. "Do not travel on the high road. It is not safe." Those had been his words. The small winding road that Collun now walked joined with the high road to Temair several leagues ahead.
Did the kesil speak of Scathians when he said the road was not safe? Or was there something else, something that he, Collun, had reason to fear? His mother had said as much. "Those who would harm you." But why? Who was he but a gardener and farmer, the son of a blacksmith? Who could possibly wish to harm him? Or his sister? And yet Nessa had disappeared. Collun's hand shook slightly as he wiped away the sweat on his upper lip.
It was late afternoon by the time the road from Inkberrow joined with the main road. Collun was beginning to feel hungry, so he stopped and settled himself under an ancient yew tree. So far he had seen only one group of travelers, all on horseback. They were Eirrenians and had greeted him pleasantly enough, but they looked at him curiously, as though surprised to see a lone boy on the road.
As he fished in his pack for food, Collun suddenly felt someone was watching him. He looked sharply up and down the empty road. There was nobody in sight. Then he heard a sound from above. He gazed up and saw a large black bird in the branches over his head. It was opening and closing its wings slowly, as though readying itself for flight. Yet it remained in the tree.
At first he thought it was a raven, but it was slightly smaller and its black feathers had a bluish gleam to them. A scald-crow, he guessed. He had never seen one before, but he knew of them. They were not common in the south of Eirren.
Collun quickly finished his meal and repacked his bag. He stood, and as he moved away from the tree, so did the scald-crow. It slowly mounted into the sky and, making a graceful curl in the air, headed down the road toward Temair.
Collun gave a fleeting thought to the ill-tempered messenger from Temair who had been convinced black birds were omens of ill fortune. Reminding himself that he did not believe in foolish superstitions, he shrugged his pack into a more comfortable position on his back and followed in the same direction as the scald-crow.
His thoughts drifted back to Talisen, who was always one to believe in bad omens or good-luck charms. If Collun so much as scratched his nose, Talisen would immediately claim, "You're about to meet a stranger." Or kiss a fool, or walk into danger, depending on Talisen's whim of the moment.
***
When the sun went down, the air grew cold. Collun breathed in the crisp air, wondering when the first frost would come. He started to think about the work that needed to be done at Aonarach, but then remembered he was on the road, away from Inkberrow and his garden and fields.
As twilight deepened Collun began to look for a spot to make camp for the night. The moon was new, a bright crescent shining in the night, and Collun could see the faint outline of the full moon behind it. The old moon in the arms of the new, as Talisen would say, calling it a lucky omen. Abruptly Collun caught the sound of footsteps behind him. He stopped and listened. Nothing. But as he began walking, he heard the sound again. He stopped again. And the footsteps stopped as well. Collun peered back over his shoulder and thought he could see a muffled, dark shape behind him. Fear made his mouth go dry. He wet his lips and thought of the dagger that had been a trine, buried deep within his pack. "Little good it will do you there," Goban had said.
Collun kept walking, faster and faster, while he reached behind him and fumbled at the opening of his pack. It was no use. In order to get at its contents he would first have to take the bag off his back and then unloose the thongs that held it closed.
He was almost running now. Quickly he swung the bag off his shoulder, but even as he tugged desperately at the thongs, an arm wrapped around his shoulders. He swung his head around to face his attacker, but instead of a Scathian, he was looking into the laughing face of Talisen.
"What's in the bag that's so precious?" Talisen said, brushing his black hair out of eyes that were narrowed in mock greed.
"Talisen!" Collun cried, caught between relief and anger.
"Sorry, Collun, I couldn't help myself. But you deserve it for running off without me, without even saying good-bye. Is that any way to treat your old friend?"