TWENTY-FOUR
Firewurme
It was not possible to see where the monster began or where it ended. It seemed to be coiled in on itself. Forewarned as he had been by Crann, Collun was yet struck dumb by the creature's size. It was as high as the tallest pine he had ever seen, and it stretched at least as wide as the whole of the farmhold Aonarach.
Collun suddenly felt very small. He heard Brie exhale, and he turned and met her gaze. She managed a smile, but it did not reach her eyes.
The Isle of Thule was not far offshore. With the tide out, it even looked possible to wade to the island. The water was an opaque greenish color with a thin film of scum floating in patches on the surface.
The mound on the island shifted again, and Brie drew in her breath sharply. Collun saw it at the same time—the entrance to a cave, not a hundred yards from the nearest coil of the Firewurme's body. Collun looked again at the Firewurme. Its dirty white body had a wet sheen to it, as did the rocky surface surrounding it. This must be what Crann had spoken of, the sram that came off the monster's body and burned without flame. Collun wondered how quickly it would burn through their boots.
"The water doesn't look deep," said Collun.
Brie nodded.
"I'm going across," Collun added matter-of-factly, his eyes on the Wurme.
"Then so am I," answered Brie.
"No," Collun responded. "You gave your word."
Brie nodded reluctantly.
The waves broke around Collun's ankles as he waded onto the causeway. When he was halfway across, the water came up to his knees.
Suddenly he heard a loud squelching sound, like the sound a foot makes when pulled out of a puddle of sticky mud, only a thousand times louder. The mass of dirty white flesh lurched.
One coil separated itself from the others. It snaked across the stony ground until it was close to the edge of the island. Then it arched into the air.
Collun found himself looking directly up into the face of the Firewurme. He was separated from it only by the strip of causeway he had yet to cross. He stood frozen.
Naid's head was as large as a farmhouse. It was lumpy, like an enormous blob of dough, and the creature's eyes were a flat yellow. They were shaped like large almonds, with small black pupils in the center. Its wide, gaping mouth held no teeth. A thin black tongue lolled from one corner of the maw. Dripping from the tongue was a thick clear substance, part liquid and part solid. Sram. Whenever a drop of it hit the ground, it made a faint fizzing sound.
The flat yellow eyes stayed on Collun. The black tongue slid slowly to the other side of the Firewurme's toothless mouth.
Collun shuddered. He realized he was bathed in sweat. The heat that emanated from the Wurme was unlike anything Collun had ever known. It made his eyes water and lungs ache. It was a thousand times hotter than the forge at Aonarach at its hottest.
Collun's body tensed as he saw the Wurme's head dip, but it did not move toward him. It hovered above a large tree branch on the shore. The branch was thick and solid and as long as Collun's leg, but lying below the Firewurme's jaw it looked no bigger than a twig.
The creature's tongue slowly caressed the branch. Collun watched in horror as the wood began to disintegrate. He remained perfectly still, sweat dripping in large drops from his skin. The tongue lapped the shrinking branch again. Several minutes passed. The monster blinked its yellow eyes at him, then retracted its tongue with a hollow slapping sound. All that was left of the branch was a glistening yellow stain on the rocks.
The Wurme reminded Collun of a wolf he had once seen approaching a cluster of fat sheep in Inkberrow. And he thought he saw laughter in the Wurme's flat eyes.
The creature had thick, dirty white lids, which it kept half-shut. Then the sun came out. Though it barely penetrated the thick haze that hung over the island, Collun saw that the light—almost imperceptibly—made the Wurme's pupils dilate. At first he didn't take in the significance. Then he realized the Firewurme's pupils expanded when exposed to light instead of contracting.
Collun slowly inched his way backward across the causeway. The Firewurme's yellow eyes watched him go. Then the creature withdrew, recoiling its body. It kept its face forward.
Collun sank to the rocky surface, his throat raw from the corrosive air surrounding the island. Brie sat on one side of him, while Fiain stood on the other.
"Crann told me it cannot be injured," Collun said, clearing his throat. "And he thought it was like a garden worm; if it is cut, it regenerates itself."
"Has it a heart?"
"I do not think so."
"Does it have no weakness at all?" asked Brie.
"Crann thought not. Except perhaps its eyes. But the lids are thick." He paused. "Just now I noticed that the Wurme's pupils do not contract with light, but expand. I wonder..."
"Yes?" said Brie.
"If the creature were to be startled by a bright light of some kind..." Collun trailed off.
Brie was nodding. "The agaric. We could use it—"
Collun turned to her, his expression implacable. "Not we."
Brie looked down, her face set in a stubborn frown.
Collun continued. "I will make a torch ... and if I am lucky, perhaps the flash of light it makes will give me time to strike the Firewurme's eye with the dagger that was a trine."
"The dagger that bears the Cailceadon Lir," added Brie in a soft voice.
"If the Wurme's tongue finds me first, it will make little difference whether the stone is chalcedony or charcoal." Collun paused. "I ask one thing of you, Breo-Saight. When I face the Firewurme, go to the cave with Fiain. If my sister is there, and alive, take her away with you. Take her to Temair, if you can."
Brie opened her mouth to protest, but Collun silenced her. "If you are my friend, you will do what I ask and no more." Brie shut her mouth and nodded, her face pale.
Collun rose and set to work on his torch. He found a stunted tree growing nearby and broke off its longest branch. He took the remaining agaric and pounded it, adding small amounts of beeswax and water. Then he laid the mixture onto the end of the branch in layers, smoothing and pressing hard, so it adhered to the wood. When he was finished, he dusted it all over with agaric powder, then he set it carefully to dry. It resembled a very large lasan.
Collun crossed to Fiain and, as he fed him Mealladh's apple, told him what he planned to do. Collun could tell from the angry flaring of the animal's nostrils that he wanted to face the Wurme with Collun. The boy focused his thoughts, willing the animal to understand. If I am to die, I wish to die knowing my sister is safe. She will be safe with you and Brie. Please do this for me, Fiain. The Ellyl horse stood still, then bowed his head slightly.
Then Collun knelt and ran his fingers over the Ellyl horse's hooves. They were tough, he knew, much tougher than those of mortal horses, having no need for metal shoes. But he did not know how they would react to the Firewurme's sram. Fiain gave a nicker of disdain, and Collun felt reassured.
Collun spent the rest of the evening preparing to meet the Firewurme. He worked steadily, without fatigue. First he made mittens for his hands as they had done during the blizzard. Then, using the leather from one of the packs Mordu had given him, he constructed clumsy, makeshift overboots to wear on top of his own boots. Then he wrapped his body from head to toe in every spare bit of clothing they had with them.
Collun had seen the Wurme's sram turn the branch to a smear. It did not seem likely that even so many layers of padding would protect him for long, but the few extra moments they bought him could possibly make the difference between living and dying.
Brie watched silently as Collun made his preparations. She checked her own gear, plucking at the bow to ensure it was strung tight and feeling the tips of her arrows to test their sharpness.
***
Sometime after midnight and well before dawn, Collun called Fiain to him. He mounted first, with Brie climbing up behind. Earlier he had given Brie his wallet of herbs, tucking the shell Mealladh had given him inside.
The causeway was at low tide, and obeying Collun's gentle nudge, Fiain began to cross. Collun was sweating heavily underneath his layers of clothing. The torch he had made was clutched tightly in his damp, padded palm. In his other hand he carried a glowing fire stick with which he planned to light the torch.
The moon was not full and shone only faintly through the haze. In the eerie light they could just make out the outline of the Firewurme's body. When they had almost reached the shore of the island, they saw Naid's head rise. It watched them with its flat yellow eyes, the lids half-shut. The black tongue slid from one side of its wide mouth to the other.
As soon as Fiain's hooves hit the rocky surface of the island, Collun jumped off. He touched the Ellyl horse lightly on his hindquarters, sending him toward the cave.
Collun broke into a run, his layers of clothing making him clumsy and slow. As he ran toward the Firewurme, he tried to dodge the puddles of sram, but in some places they were too large. He landed flat in the middle of one. The ooze began melting through the bottom layer covering his feet. It made a soft hissing noise as it burned.
The Firewurme's head suddenly moved with a swiftness that took Collun by surprise. He looked up to see its face above him, the black tongue dangling not more than an arm's length from his shoulder. He heard a splat and a fizz as sram dripped onto the ground.
His heart pounding, Collun lifted the fire stick to light the torch, but Naid's tongue suddenly snapped and extended. Collun felt a line of fire along his right jaw.
He fell to the ground, clutching at his chin in agony. There was a hissing sound as sram ate into his top layer of clothing. He rolled desperately until the sound stopped.
He was lying on a dry patch of rock, his face on fire. He could hear the sound of water lapping nearby and realized he must have rolled near the edge of the island. He longed to crawl to the shoreline and sink his face into the cooling water. But he painfully raised himself on one elbow. The Firewurme was watching him. Then it swiveled its head toward the cave, its tongue flicking in and out of its mouth. Collun's heart pumped. He leaped to his feet.
"Brie!" he cried out.
He charged at the coil of flesh nearest him. Dropping the torch, he unsheathed his dagger. Collun fiercely swung the blade down, biting into the dirty white flesh.
It was like cutting open a ripe fruit. As the skin opened, a thin stream of yellowish juice trickled out. Collun cut deeper, ignoring the sram that was melting his mitten. But when he had made a valley in the flesh the length of his arm, he had to pull out. His mitten was gone and blisters were forming on his hand.
Then, in a matter of moments, the deep cut Collun had made knitted itself back together. Collun watched, unbelieving, as the flesh was regenerated. Where it had been riven there was now a large smooth hump.
The Wurme had turned its head back toward Collun, and again there was laughter in the flat eyes.
Collun sheathed his dagger. As he bent to retrieve the torch, a deep blank feeling of hopelessness washed over him. His face and hand were on fire. Sweat was pouring off him. What had he been thinking? That a cowardly farm boy would be able to defeat Naid, the deadly Firewurme from Cruachan's cave?
Naid's body abruptly shifted, and Collun had to dive to his left to avoid getting suffocated by the lurching flesh. The heel of his left hand skidded into a pool of sram. Collun let out a yell of pain, rolling onto his back. His nose was full of the stench of his corroded skin.
Naid had now positioned itself between the boy and the cave's entrance. Its blunt snout hung high in the air. Collun stared up at the enormous creature.
Using all his willpower, Collun pulled himself into a sitting position. He was down to one layer of leather on his feet, and his clothing was in tatters; in some places it was gone altogether. But in his burned left hand the small fire stick still glowed.
The Firewurme watched Collun as he rose to his feet and began to move forward.
When Collun had come within a hundred paces, the Wurme dropped its head. It began to undulate across the ground toward him.
The urge to turn and run was overwhelming, but he stopped and stood still, waiting. When the tongue was no more than twenty paces from him, Collun brought his two shaking hands together. The small speck of fire touched the agaric torch.
A blinding column of flame burst up from the torch. Naid's head arched up, tongue dangling. It hung motionless above Collun. The Wurme's black pupils widened until more black showed than yellow. Collun shifted the torch to his left hand and swiftly drew his dagger. He aimed the dagger directly at the center of the Firewurme's right pupil and catapulted himself forward.
Just as he was about to plunge the dagger into its mark, there was a flicker of movement beside him. The Firewurme's tongue.
Before Collun could react, the black thing had coiled itself around his arm, from shoulder to wrist. An indescribable pain coursed through his body. His vision clouded. Streaks of gray swam over his eyes. He heard someone screaming, and he realized it was himself. He began to lose consciousness.
Collun struggled against the grayness. Then, he saw something flying through the air. It was an arrow. One of Breo-Saight's arrows.
The arrow, looking no larger than a tiny dart, fell short of its mark. It disintegrated in a puddle of sram. Then came another arrow, and it, too, turned to a smear on the ground.
As if from a distance Collun felt his feet begin to sear. The soles of his boots were gone.
Suddenly he felt a sharp, choking hatred toward the monster that had turned his body to fire. His thoughts hardened, and his head came up.
Collun looked into the Firewurme's face. The creature's pupils had begun to contract. He didn't remember dropping it, but the torch lay useless nearby, extinguished by the sram. Amazingly, though, the dagger was still in his mangled right hand, as if it had been forged there with fire. Collun painfully shifted the blade to his left hand and grasped the handle tightly. Then, with a hoarse shout of rage and horror, he launched himself again at the shrinking black center of the yellow eye above him.
As he pierced the Firewurme's pupil, the yellow surface wrinkled. The blade met no resistance. Collun's arm followed until it was immersed in amber-colored jelly. Then a black, oily liquid pulsed forth, splashing Collun's face and chest.
A hard, sharp object slammed into his forehead, and he knew no more.