Song Magick (41 page)

Almost at once, arcane energies began to
build, drawn from that place inside Telyn where her singular magic
was created. Cormac’s gifts drew that power into himself and
released it slowly, allowing Telyn to control the energy that began
to gather from without, like a moth to a flame, irresistibly drawn
toward the focus that hovered between them and created a tangible
pressure of invisible force between their bodies.

The wardens continued to speak the ancient
words, quiet and compelling, and Telyn willed her magic to flow
outwards from the center of the circle to encompass the men. It
touched each warden simultaneously, binding them to her will, and
immediately, the pressure between Cormac and the bard dropped as
the force was divided between the eight who formed the outside
circle. Each man, acting instinctively as her gifts were shared and
impressed upon the blank place that awaited the touch of magic,
channeled that power outwards.

They had handled as much in their previous
rehearsal, but now it was time to increase the stakes. Telyn and
Cormac’s hands parted as they took measured steps backwards,
increasing the space between them. Telyn allowed the power to build
again in that doubled space, directing the energies that came from
outside her own sphere of influence to collect between herself and
Cormac, and continue to radiate it outwards.

The Elders were becoming uncomfortable as the
energies rose, blinking against a wind that did not exist. The
Elder Heartspeaker in particular seemed to be most affected by the
raw power that was gathering in the center of the circle, actually
raising a hand against it, shading his eyes. Telyn caught a glimpse
of Conlad, watching open-mouthed as the air inside the circle
seemed to take on a ghostly glow, despite the daylight.

Outside, even the horses seemed to sense what
was happening, for nervous whinnies could be heard through the open
windows of the great room. Telyn made the decision to terminate the
working. The amount of power she and Cormac had called into the
space between them was enormous, and her company had handled it
without difficulty, but the amount they would need to call for the
actual working was much larger.

“Enough,” she said softly. “I don’t know what
will happen if we try to call much more power indoors.” She and
Cormac willed the energies to subside gradually, releasing the
wardens from her influence as it diminished. The work was draining,
and she let out a sigh as she withdrew from Cormac’s mind. The
young warden also looked weary, but their men were not nearly as
exhausted, as evidenced by their triumphant expressions.

Colm and Mithrais quickly brought chairs for
Telyn and Cormac to sink into, and the rest of the wardens
clustered around, talking excitedly about their successful attempt.
When questioned, none of the wardens confessed to feeling
uncomfortable during the working, only an intense awareness of the
power that coursed through them.

Those who had watched still looked a bit
shaken. Semias described the sensation of the growing power as a
static charge that had flowed over him like water, and the other
Elders concurred with his interpretation.

“I can still feel it prickling against my
skin,” Semias claimed. “What exactly are you calling here?”

“Primal energy? Creative force?” Telyn
shrugged again. “Magic, Semias. That’s all I can tell you.” She
stood up, leaning against the back of her chair, and the men
quieted.

“I think our next attempt must be in the
Circle itself,” Telyn announced. “The energies are unusual there.
They’re much stronger, and may affect us differently once we take
our places among the Gwaith’orn.”

“Not to mention that you and I have to be in
contact with the tree folk when the final working takes place,”
Cormac reminded her. “It will add yet another factor we haven’t
experienced when the Gwaith’orn take control of the magic.”

“We can set up camp in the Circle tomorrow,
and continue to work until we’re ready,” Colm suggested, the idea
receiving positive reactions from the rest of the group.

“We’ll make another attempt at dawn the
following day, which the Gwaith’orn tell us is the proper time for
such a working, and find out just how different things might be,”
Telyn decided.

“Will we return before the real event takes
place?” one of the wardens asked, and Telyn grew somber.

“I don’t know, Aedan,” she answered, and
paused. “If there are things that you must accomplish before we
make our final attempt, I suggest you do them before leaving for
the Circle.”

There was a moment of silence as the wardens
were reminded how dangerous their task might be, but they were
Tauron, all of them reconciled long ago to the vows they had taken.
Their lives belonged to the Wood. It was only Telyn who feared for
her men, and looking at the confident, trusting faces that
surrounded her, she made another silent, fervent appeal to the
Fates to look kindly upon their mission.

* * * *

Late that night, Telyn’s subconscious gave
way to her fears in the form of nightmares. She could not sleep
afterwards, and rose from bed, donning her robe and padding
barefoot to the balcony.

The crescent visage of the waning moon played
hide and seek behind scudding clouds, which gave way in the wake of
warmer southern breezes that had come after sunset. Watching the
transient light, Telyn felt as if she were leading her men into an
unknown territory. Even though she had been given a map, there were
only two paths that led through this wilderness: success, and
failure. Neither path, on which she alone could guide them,
guaranteed that they would all come out unscathed, and the odds
frightened her. Although many of the men chosen by the Gwaith’orn
for this task were still strangers to her, some had become dear
friends, and another she loved, although she had never spoken those
words aloud to him. Shuddering against the vivid memory of the
nightmare, Telyn vowed that if it was in her power, none of them
would perish in the attempt to fulfill the covenant.

She knew that Mithrais had awakened before
his near-silent step sounded on the smooth-planked floor of the
balcony, and his arms went around her in an embrace of comfort.

“If I can ease your burden, please share it
with me,” Mithrais whispered, his lips against her hair. “What is
it that troubles you, Telyn?”

“Too many things to name aloud,” Telyn
confessed. “Most of them phantoms, but some of them too real to
ignore.”

“Tell me.” He turned her to face him.

Rather than speak her worries aloud, she
slipped her hand into his and let him read the nightmare images and
the fears that had spawned them. He sighed in understanding, and
leaned his forehead against hers.

“Life and death are one, Telyn—an end and a
beginning—ever circling each other. I don’t fear death. But it was
only a dream, not a harbinger of what is to come.”

“If anything should happen to you...”

He stopped her words with a gentle finger to
her lips. “All will be well. We must go forward without fear, and
believe what you said at the guild house. The Fates have been with
us thus far, from the moment we met. They will not abandon us
now.”

Mithrais led her back to his own bed, and for
a little while, Telyn was able to forget the fears that haunted her
as he held her in his arms, and took comfort from his presence. She
remained awake for some time listening to Mithrais’ steady
heartbeat against her ear, his breathing slowing toward sleep. When
she finally allowed her eyes to close, she did not dream again.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

“I will not be able to rest until you both
return,” Gwidion said bluntly at breakfast. “How long do you
anticipate before the actual working?”

“A few days, if all goes well. I won’t
attempt it unless we are completely certain,” Telyn told him,
pushing back the memory of her nightmares. “There is still time to
regroup before the solstice.”

“Remember what I said about their promises,
Telyn,” Gwidion said at last.

“I do remember. Try not to worry overmuch.”
Telyn knelt beside him and kissed his hand, holding it between her
own. “Mithrais will return to take his place by your side. I swear
it.”

“So long as you return to take your place
beside him, daughter,” Gwidion said softly, touching her face with
grave tenderness.

* * * *

An hour later, they were passing through the
southern gate, their horses laden with food and supplies to last a
week. Mithrais rode beside Telyn, both dressed in Tauron green, and
the silver badge of Wood Commander gleamed at her throat. She had
been alternately pensive and animated as they traveled, and
Mithrais knew where her thoughts were dwelling when she was most
quiet. He, too, knew the risks that lay ahead, but he could not
dismiss his own sense of certainty that they would succeed.

The enormous power Telyn and Cormac had
called the previous day had been exhilarating and strange; the
sensation of it flowing through his body had strongly reminded him
of traveling on the resonance. Even bound by Telyn’s will, he
thought it would have been an easy thing to let go and ride the
crest of magic, and only the unknown consequences of what might
happen had kept Mithrais from trying it.

There was much that remained to be answered.
Mithrais’ own thoughts dwelled most on the future of the Silde once
magic was restored. Since the revelations of Cormac and Telyn’s
extraordinary conversation with the Gwaith’orn, he was intensely
curious to see what changes in the Wood lay ahead.

And now it seemed that they would learn these
things sooner than later.

The rest of the chosen Tauron had made camp
on the fringes outside the Circle, tents and canopies resembling
nothing more than mushrooms in the shadow of the forest giants.
Jona greeted them with a raised hand, looking more comfortable
among the men than he ever had, and Mithrais was not surprised to
see that the elderly Conlad had also chosen to make the
journey.

“It is the most important thing that has
happened in the history of the Tauron, and I was not about to let
it unfold without me,” he said with a hint of apology as he
welcomed Telyn. “I am the Elder Historian, after all—it is my duty
to be certain it is recorded accurately.”

“If not for all your hard work teaching us
the old vows, we could never have come so far, so quickly,” Telyn
told him, and Conlad colored with pleasure.

Mithrais took the opportunity to walk to the
granite slab in the middle of the clearing. The ground around it
was still charred, but the heavy rains had washed away the soot
that gave evidence of Aric’s funeral pyre. He saluted the shades of
all who lay beneath the stone, asking them silently to watch over
this brave company of wardens, and especially, the woman who would
lead their endeavors.

It was a moment before he realized that Jona
was standing beside him, looking at the stone with an expression of
regret and resignation.

“I know that Aric was headstrong and
sometimes unwise, but he was a good warden,” Jona said in a low
voice. Mithrais nodded, surprised.

“A good warden, and a better friend,” he
agreed.

“I want to apologize for my anger toward you,
Mithrais. I know that the orders you gave him were necessary.” Jona
glanced back at the encampment. “I’ve been humbled in the past few
days, perhaps for the better, watching these men prepare for their
role. They have acted with a drive and a passion to serve the
Gwaith’orn that I have never truly felt. Even Telyn, who wasn’t
raised with a reverence for the Gwaith’orn, has put their welfare
above her own.” Jona looked down, and confessed, “I served them
because I had the gift, but not out of any real desire. Each
generation of my family since the beginning of the covenant has
served in the Tauron. It was expected by my family. I think you can
understand that.”

“I certainly can,” Mithrais said without
irony.

“Aric was the last to be born with the gift.
There are no more to serve in my family.” Jona sighed. “When Cormac
gave me his memories of the conversation he and Telyn had with the
Gwaith’orn, my heart was broken. The Gwaith’orn, too, have been
trapped in a role, but for far longer than I. I will serve them
gladly the rest of my life, for I never knew how much they had
given of themselves in this covenant.”

“Nor did I,” Mithrais responded, and Jona
smiled, his flame-red hair glowing in the late afternoon sun.

“Truly, we are at the whims of the Fates, and
in their good graces, I hope, during the next few days.”

* * * *

Telyn slept deeply and dreamlessly that night
beneath the canopy of the easternmost forest giant. She woke
suddenly in the pre-dawn hours, and, realizing where she was,
smiled to herself sleepily. Not long ago she could not have been
convinced to stretch out on the ground anywhere near a
Gwaith’orn.

Mithrais lay beside her, wrapped cocoon-like
in his cloak and sound asleep, and others were still snoring
beneath their tents. Nearby, Telyn saw a shock of yellow hair
beneath a blanket, all she could discern of Cormac in the dim light
of a dwindling fire. None had felt the need to use that envied
ability to go without sleep, the bard thought, and fought the urge
to giggle. She sat up quietly and shivered in the dewy chill,
scooting closer to the embers to build it up once more.

As the renewed warmth helped her shed the
grogginess of sleep, Telyn began to feel the hum of the energies
that were always present in this hallowed place, prodding her song
magic into wakefulness as well. With that much energy floating
loose in the Circle, she thought idly, the men might not need the
incantation to draw on her powers... and, suddenly, fully alert,
Telyn began to wonder.