Song Magick (43 page)

“Another spring?” she asked.

“Another spring,” Mithrais confirmed. “This
one isn’t hot, I fear.”

When they reached the bottom of the ridge,
Telyn tested the waters with her hand, and the bite of the spring
water was almost more than she wanted to brave. Mithrais, however,
discarded his tunic and boots and dived in without hesitation,
surfacing and shaking his dripping hair out of his eyes.

“Come in,” he dared her, grinning, and Telyn
grimaced doubtfully, but shucked rapidly out of her outer clothing
and followed suit. The water was shockingly cold beneath the
surface, and she came to the top beside him, gasping for
breath.

“This is freezing!” she screeched, afraid to
stop moving for fear the cold would cramp her limbs. “How can you
stand it?”

Mithrais laughed. “This is nothing. There is
another spring we call the Ice Witch. It flows out of a rock face
in the Rift. In the winter, the water freezes before it hits the
ground and creates a mountain of ice.”

“And you bathe in that?”

“Oh, no. Not even on the hottest days of
summer. Even Rodril is not so brave.”

They splashed about for a few minutes, but
Telyn’s teeth were soon chattering, and she swam to the edge to
pull herself out of the spring. The sun was warm in the dell, and
she used her linen shirt to remove the excess water from her
dripping hair. As Telyn hung the shirt on a branch to dry, Mithrais
joined her in the grass, the water sparkling on his skin as he
flung himself on the ground.

“Nothing like a refreshing swim?” she asked
archly, and he laughed.

“It was a bit chilly, even for me.” Mithrais
pulled her down beside him for a kiss. His lips were slightly cold
from the water, but as his mouth opened against hers, Telyn found
the contrasting heat exciting; a different warmth began to spread
through her as the kiss deepened. When they parted, the deep love
and the need she saw in his eyes was no less than her own, no less
alarming in its intensity. She touched his face tenderly.

“I do love you,” Telyn whispered.

Mithrais touched his fingertips to the tears
that had escaped her eyes, and brushed them away. “I have loved you
from the moment I saw you. I was but half a soul, and I did not
truly live until our hands touched that morning in the
clearing.”

“But I love my life as a bard, as well,”
Telyn said. “I am torn. I want to stay with you, but music is my
life’s work, and it is my very blood. And if one of us should not
survive tomorrow...”

“Believe in yourself, Telyn. We will survive
the fulfillment of the covenant.” Mithrais forced her to meet his
eyes with a gentle hand beneath her chin. “Your will is strong
enough to withstand the Gwaith’orn’s presence, and strong enough to
shape the magic into what they need. And once it is fulfilled—” his
voice became lighter. “Someone will need to travel through the Wood
to discover how the magic has returned, and to explain to the
outlying villages what has happened. It's a bard’s duty to carry
important news, as much as it is to play music, isn't it?”

Telyn smiled cautiously. “Yes, of course. It
would keep me out of the delegation’s way, and the Gwaith’orn can
tell me if anyone is a danger to me while I’m in the Wood. I also
have a promise to keep to Cormac, to visit Ilparien.”

“There you have it. I think that’s work
enough for one bard, until at least the turn of the seasons.”
Mithrais touched her cheek. “Nothing will change the bond we share.
We are mated in heart and mind, no matter the distance between us.
Would you spend the winter at the manor? At least I would know
where to find you.”

“Perhaps I could play at one of the inns in
the city when the mood strikes me,” Telyn suggested, a great weight
lifted from her. Mithrais gave her that slow smile she loved, his
eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I wonder what Marithiel will say to that,”
Mithrais remarked, kissing her forehead. “What a scandal!”

“Less scandal than I am accustomed to,” Telyn
countered, smiling.

He rolled up onto his elbow, one eyebrow
raised, and began with endearing uncertainty and a mock show of
great reluctance, “We may have to marry formally someday to keep my
mother from trying to plan another alliance for me.”

“I thought you were well practiced at
avoiding the duties of rank,” Telyn quipped.

“Find a trace of duty in this,” he
challenged, lowering his mouth to hers.

* * * *

The night was clear, the sky full of stars
that shone with cold, white fire. Her head pillowed on Mithrais’
shoulder, Telyn watched the turn of the wheel, awake long before
the first grey light of dawn touched the sky. Images from the first
dream conversation the Gwaith’orn had impressed upon her returned
to memory: The silent Gwaith’orn, ghostly foxfire glows fading into
oblivion; the resonant trees, shining like beacons in the darkness
of the Wood...and herself, channeling a torrent of power through
her hands into the tree folk and releasing a mighty chord.

They were on the doorstep of fulfilling the
covenant, and those vague images had been replaced by vivid
knowledge of how to accomplish the deed. Every nuance of gesture
and intent had been reinforced by the Gwaith’orn when they shared
the knowledge with Cormac and Telyn, imprinting it upon their
subconscious memories. She glanced over to where the young warden
lay, and saw that he, too was awake, gazing at the sky.

It would be Cormac who showed the first signs
of returning power when the act was done; the Gwaith’orn had not
been descriptive of how these gifts would manifest, only that it
would happen immediately. She wondered how he felt, knowing that in
but a few hours’ time, he would be the first true magic-user that
the Silde had known in centuries. The other eight men, including
her beloved Mithrais, would discover their new gifts awakening soon
afterwards, and would learn to use them.

As if sensing her thoughts of him, Mithrais
stirred and opened his eyes, turning toward her. He pressed his
lips against her forehead. “Are you all right, love?” he asked
softly.

“Yes. I just can’t sleep any longer.” She
leaned against him briefly, and then sat up, untangling herself
from the cloaks that had been their bed.

The other Tauron began to awaken as well,
sensitive to the changes in the air that signaled the approach of
day. She was not certain that Colm had slept at all, for he had
kept the fire going the night long and still sat beside the ring of
stones, gazing into the flames. He did not look troubled; on the
contrary, his face was peaceful, reflecting a calm that Telyn
wished she could feel. The pit of her stomach was aflutter as she
stood, and Mithrais rose with her.

They joined the Northwarden beside the fire.
Cormac arrived a moment later, huddling closer to the flames, but
the smile he gave to Telyn was brimming with excitement.

“I can’t believe that the day has come,” he
said in hushed tones. “I’ve been moving toward this all my life,
but now that it is happening...” Cormac’s face fell slightly. “I
don’t know what I’ll do afterwards.”

Colm grinned and tousled the young warden’s
hair. “Just because you are the seed-speaker does not mean you
can’t remain in the Tauron, pup. Or will you be too grand for us
now?”

“I intended to remain in the Tauron as long
as the Gwaith’orn needed me,” Cormac answered slowly. “But
everything is going to change. What if they no longer need us?”

“We will probably be nursemaids to the
Gwaith’orn seedlings,” Aedan interjected sleepily as he joined the
group, eliciting a collective chuckle.

“You eight are destined for more than that,”
Telyn reminded them. “Cormac will be the first, but the rest of you
will be able to wield magic as well.”

“I said at our first council that the Tauron
Order would change,” Mithrais said quietly. “I still believe that.
We may be responsible for guiding others in developing their gifts,
or preventing the misuse of magic. Then again, the Gwaith’orn may
take that responsibility out of our hands. My father has told me
old stories that might give us some idea of how things will change.
The Gwaith’orn were able to speak aloud when they wished, even able
to work magic in their immediate environment.”

“What marvels await us, brothers?” Colm mused
aloud in the singsong voice of a storyteller, and Telyn could not
help but laugh aloud as the others drifted into the circle of
firelight.

“You are a bard at heart, Colm.” She looked
at the ring of faces surrounding her, feeling a surge of pride and
comradeship. “One thing is certain: what we accomplish here will
never be forgotten, and will change our land. If there is glory to
be won, I do not know more deserving company than those who stand
before me.”

* * * *

The company consumed a meal as dawn
approached—Telyn wanted them at full strength before the attempt
was made. She ate and drank whatever Mithrais had given her from
their store of rations; it all tasted the same, her distraction
growing as the sky lightened in the east. She was no longer afraid,
merely ready to end this waiting.

Jona and Conlad wished them well before they
took cover behind the southernmost Gwaith’orn. The Elder Historian
grasped both Telyn’s hands, his expressive face working, but he
could not find the words. He ended by kissing her hands, and bowing
deeply. Jona followed suit, but this time, it was without
resentment and his face was full of admiration as he looked at them
all.

“I am very proud to have been witness to this
endeavor,” he said. “The Order has never seen a finer group of
wardens, and it is an honor to serve with you.” Jona drew himself
up to attention.

“Isild lea siangenath,”
he began, and
the wardens immediately stood straighter, their shoulders thrown
back with pride. A dozen voices rang through the clearing in
repetition of the old vows:

“Gaeth orn lea urilath

Tauron cuil connat.

Mathain lea pridis

Lea fil bain ispiridis

Craigh cuil connat.”

No one spoke in the reverent silence that
followed. Each warden turned purposefully toward his place in the
Circle. Mithrais lingered a moment longer, touching Telyn’s cheek
gently. She turned her face to kiss his palm, and then he, too, was
striding away to his place in the northeast. He did not look
back.

Cormac was quietly confident, and Telyn took
comfort from that as they faced each other across the granite slab.
His blue eyes were steady and unblinking as they met hers, and he
smiled encouragingly. Telyn nodded. When the wardens had reached
their places, she lifted her arms slowly.

The young warden paralleled her gesture, and
called on her magic. It leapt to bridge the gap between them, as if
it were eager to fulfill their task as well. The power began to
spiral into the space between them, pushing Telyn and Cormac
backward even as they took their measured, reversed steps toward
the Gwaith’orn.

She released the magic to flow outward to the
waiting men who stood like sentries between each tree, their arms
outstretched slightly to each side, palms forward. They absorbed it
effortlessly and called on her gifts to enable them to radiate the
power in all directions. The pressure between Cormac and Telyn
dropped, and then built again. The grass was ruffled by the
gathering energies, and the leaves of the trees began to thrash
noisily in the maelstrom as they both stepped beneath the canopy of
the Gwaith’orn. The tree folk were now enveloped in the gathering
power, and the ghostly glow that had begun to show itself
brightened twofold as Telyn and Cormac came level with the trees
and the eight wardens who formed the bridge between them.

With uncanny timing, Telyn and Cormac both
turned and simultaneously thrust their hands against the trees. The
power in the Circle doubled, pushing against them with gale force.
Even the wardens were buffeted by this change in energies, rocking
slightly in their places as the flow increased.

It begins!
The Gwaith’orn exulted, and
Telyn concentrated on shaping the raw power that was now a cyclone
in the middle of the Circle, blue-white and blinding. It was her
gift that would impress upon it the properties for metamorphosis,
for opening, for the giving of life. The spinning vortex blushed
orange, and then to a deep, blood red that bathed the clearing in a
rosy glow.

NOW!

Telyn surrendered her shields. She fell into
the void and was immersed in the Gwaith’orn’s collective
consciousness, sensing Cormac at the opposite side of the Circle,
his gifts allowing her to touch each ancient being in succession,
bringing them into the link between herself and the seed speaker.
The Gwaith’orn were drunk with power, absorbing everything that
Telyn had shaped, and gathering more. The air in the clearing was
tinged with that sanguineous hue, and the power kept growing until
Telyn thought she would lose consciousness from the strain.

The sun topped the trees.

Telyn gasped with sudden, excruciating pain;
the quadrupled power seemed to expose every nerve in her skin, but
there was nothing she could do to stop it now. The magic burned in
the center of her chest like lightning, and she was locked into the
Gwaith’orn’s consciousness as the ancient ones wrought their own
will.

Dimly, she sensed that Cormac was in
comparable agony as he strove to temper the power that flowed
through them, the palms of his hands burning against the trunk of
the western Gwaith’orn. Around the Circle, the other Tauron
continued to stand firm against the onslaught, their faces twisted
with pain as the power was drawn from her and through their bodies.
She could feel each of the wardens now as the Gwaith’orn brought
them into the link, the power no longer flowing outwards, but in a
continuous, spinning circle between them all. She sensed Mithrais,
aware of his concern that the Gwaith’orn now controlled Telyn’s
magic, and his comprehension that he was powerless to help her.