“In my own keep! By the gods, someone will pay for this!” Riordan, who had removed his furry mantle and hood in the secret corridor, was red-faced with fury as he stalked into the library and threw the costume piece into a nearby chair.
“Telyn, are you all right?” Lady Ciara asked, flushed but composed in the growing light of the candles. She moved closer to the bard and took her injured hand, inspecting the cut carefully.
Telyn looked down at her hand, which stung sharply at Ciara’s gentle ministrations, and at the crimson-smeared white silk and velvet of her gown. She felt inexplicably calm, despite all that had just occurred. “I’m all right. It’s not much more than a scratch. They weren’t trying to kill me.”
“What do you mean they weren’t trying to kill you?” Riordan roared, and Mithrais motioned for calm as Lady Ciara bound Telyn’s wound with a clean handkerchief.
“Telyn’s right, Lord Riordan. He could have easily killed her. It was meant to frighten her, or to let her know that he’s here. As I said, he enjoys the hunt.”
“The Dragon?” Riordan blustered. “How could he have gotten inside the great hall without my knowing it? Rand and I identified every guest as they were going in!”
“He may have already been here, long before we arrived,” Mithrais reminded him grimly. “With all the preparations surrounding the feast, it would have been easy to slip in unnoticed, and hide.”
Riordan banged a fist against the wall. “Thanks to me, he knows who you are, and where you are from. Do you think he will guess you are taking Telyn to Cerisild? I am of a mind to send you with an armed escort from my garrison.”
“He may know who I am, but has no reason to know that I’m a warden. I think Telyn will be safer with me on foot in the Wood, as we planned, but we should go now, and meet up with the rest of the Tauron as soon as possible.”
Riordan turned to the bard, taking her shoulders gently in his enormous hands. “My dear, I believe we can stage an immediate diversion that will allow you and Mithrais to make your way to the Wood without the beast knowing you are gone. I will have your wagon driven south, toward the mountain roads, with the driver cloaked and hooded and the back full of my guards. It should allow you and Mithrais to slip unnoticed across the fields and into the trees.”
“It may give us the time we need. Once in the Wood, I’ll be able to discover if we were followed.” Mithrais nodded in approval of the plan. “We’ll need our weapons. They are in the wagon.”
“I will have them waiting for you, with your provisions.” Riordan forced Telyn to meet his eyes, lifting her chin with his hand. “I’m sorry, lass. I had hoped my keep would be a safe haven for you.”
“It always has been before. You aren’t to blame, Uncle Rio.” Telyn managed a wan smile. “My cloak and boots are in the wagon, if someone will bring them as well. I definitely can’t go through the Wood in white skirts.” Telyn lifted the silk of the gown and heaved a sigh. “What about the rites, then? Your villagers will be uneasy if they do not go on as planned.”
“Ciara and I can perform them, never fear. The rites will act as an additional distraction. I must go to my guests and reassure them that all is resolved, somehow.” Riordan touched Telyn’s face gently. “It seems our parting must be now, my dear. I have already sent my dispatch to the Sildan King. Midsummer, I promise, if not sooner. My men are looking for The Dragon even now.”
Telyn hugged him fiercely, taking comfort in his confidence. “Thank you, Uncle Rio, for everything. I will return as soon as I can.”
Riordan kissed her forehead. “Take care. I know you are headstrong, lass, but let Mithrais guide you while in the Wood. The Tauron have secret ways we cannot imagine, and I have no doubt that you will reach Cerisild safely under his guard.”
“I will behave,” Telyn promised. Riordan released her and turned to Mithrais.
“I will send Rand to you when all is in readiness. Go with all speed, and may the goddess watch over you both.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Mithrais clasped the wrist Riordan offered in a soldier’s embrace. “I’ll give my father your regards. I am certain he will be glad to receive them.”
“Tell him I miss the days of our youth. Farewell.”
Ciara gave Telyn a brief, worried clasp of hands, and then she and Riordan were gone. True to form, Rand the seneschal was already waiting outside in the hall, knowing where his lord had gone in the moment of confusion, and the wooden door slammed shut on Riordan’s quick, furtive instructions.
Rand reappeared with his customary frazzled efficiency half an hour after Riordan had left them. He led Telyn and Mithrais to yet another hidden passage that wound down through the bowels of the keep, into the cellars stacked with barrels of aging wine and ale. They threaded through the maze of racks by the light of Rand’s single candle until they reached a small wooden door on the east side of the keep, which swung open to reveal rough stone steps and a tunnel that led up at a steep angle. Telyn could see stars twinkling above at the end of the passage.
“This leads directly into the vineyards,” Rand told them. “Your wagon is being driven out on the south road even now, and your clothing, provisions and weapons are here.” A small leather pack, Mithrais’ bow and quiver and the swords lay beside the wall atop their folded clothing, illuminated as Rand dipped the candle in their direction. He lit another stub of candle atop a broken barrel beside the narrow archway. “The trumpets will sound from the gates when Lord Riordan leads the torchlight procession into the fields. He believes that would be the best time for you to make your escape.”
Telyn couldn’t help but smile at the seneschal’s incredible, although somewhat frantic, competency. “Thank you for all you’ve done, Rand. Please make certain that the stable hands take care of my horse.” There was a slight catch in her voice that she couldn’t hide. “I hope Bessa will be all right tonight if—if anything happens.”
“She is in the stable, safe and sound. One of Lord Riordan’s horses is being used as a decoy.” Rand smiled at her reassuringly. “Good luck. Lord Riordan asks that you send us word when you reach Cerisild safely.”
“We will,” Mithrais assured him. Rand bowed and hurried away, the light of his candle bobbing and receding through the towering shadows of the wine casks.
Mithrais handed Telyn her own pile of clothing, and they changed for travel quickly in the near-darkness. The bard buckled on her dagger and sword with grim resolve, and Mithrais cautioned her to keep them hidden until they reached the shelter of the trees. She slung the leather pack over her shoulder and drew on a short, hooded traveling cloak that covered the scabbard at her side. Mithrais threw his cloak over his shoulders, his own weapons hidden from view beneath the mottled, grey-green cloth.
They extinguished the candle and climbed wordlessly to the top of the tunnel to await the trumpets. Telyn stayed just inside the rocky mouth, hidden in an outcropping of natural stones in the ground beside the keep wall, while Mithrais conducted a quick reconnaissance of the area. His Tauron cloak seemed to absorb the moonlight, rendering Mithrais a noiseless shadow that moved among the newly sprung vines.
He returned and crouched beside her, once more a disembodied voice inside the hood of his cloak. “We will cross the vineyards to the eastern edge, then over the fields to enter the Wood there.” Mithrais pointed, showing her where the black edge of the Wood jutted out into the barley field. He lowered the hood of his cloak. “It will not be out of place to be walking in the fields tonight. We will not run and draw attention to ourselves, but take our time.”
At the sound of horns from atop the tower, Mithrais took her hand, setting off at an unhurried pace through the vineyard. Telyn could hear voices and low, intimate laughter nearby, and as they reached the edge of the fields, the smell of torch smoke and the sound of a drum and merry flute drifted past on the breeze. Looking back, Telyn could see the bright orange flames waving in the fields outside the gates of the keep, where Riordan was leading the guests and villagers to the rites in the long, snaking torch dance. The drum’s rhythm seeped into her step even as Telyn tried to match Mithrais’ near-silent stride. He noticed, and grinned as she shrugged apologetically.
At the end of the rows of tethered vines, they turned down slope toward the road and crossed it casually, entering the barley fields. The new shoots were only inches high; pale, satiny leaves glistened under the moonlight and whispered against the passage of their feet. Clouds were beginning to scud across the glittering night sky from behind the mountains, veiling the moon, and Mithrais lifted his head, scenting the air.
“Rain is coming. I welcome the cloud cover, but it will make traveling a bit more difficult. We’ll reach the first Tauron outpost long before dawn, and you can sleep for a few hours there. We’ll start again at first light.”
“Do you never sleep?” Telyn asked softly.
“I shall have to, very soon. It’s been three days since I last closed my eyes. I don’t wish to be so weary that I become careless.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, still hand in hand, the black shape ahead becoming individual trees as they came nearer. Telyn could no longer see the torches in the fields west of them as their path began to slope downward toward the Wood.
The trees were at last directly ahead, and Telyn winced at the sound of her leather boots crunching through the litter of last winter’s dry leaves. She couldn’t help but look about her nervously, although her eyes were incapable of making out anything more than the separation of earth and sky, and the dim shapes of nearer objects. Mithrais squeezed her hand encouragingly, and he led her through the darkness into the Wood.
As they passed beyond the border of the trees, a welcoming stillness seemed to surround them. The Wood was hushed, the tranquility broken only by the faint cry of some nocturnal creature, and the sound of Telyn’s footsteps. Mithrais released Telyn’s hand and heaved a sigh. She could see that he was relieved to be in his own element again. Telyn looked about her, willing her eyes to adjust to the profound shadows while Mithrais drew his weapons from the cloak and slung them within easy reach.
“Stay close behind me. I will warn you if there is something in our path.”
“How will you contact Aric?” Telyn asked, her voice little more than a whisper as they walked, falling into a steady pace to the northeast.
“We’ll have to go farther in to accomplish that,” Mithrais told her. “I don’t believe that we were followed. I saw no one in the fields but a few of Riordan’s townsfolk. They were...uninterested in our passage. Here—there’s a fallen tree in front of you.” He turned and offered his hand, helping her step over the horizontal obstacle.
Telyn kept her eyes on the dim crescent of Mithrais’ bow as she followed him through the trunks of the trees, stumbling slightly in the darkness. She became more sure-footed as her trust in his guidance grew, and her eyes adjusted to the peculiar grey-green light that seeped through the Wood from above.
They had walked for nearly an hour before Mithrais stopped, his head bowed briefly in an attitude of concentration, then he strode to their right with a purpose. Telyn followed him into a group of large trees, and Mithrais turned to face her thoughtfully, his eyes glittering in the darkness.
“Can you tell which of these trees is different from the others?”
Puzzled, Telyn looked at the black trunks, and up at the sparse new leaves covering the branches overhead. “They all look like normal trees to me, at least in the dark.”
“So they will appear by day, as well. The only telling features of the tree we seek are smooth, white-barked upper branches, but there are other trees which possess similar markings. There’s but one way to be sure, and that’s by touch. Press the palm of your hand against the trunk.”
Telyn hesitated a moment before moving to stand beside the nearest tree, gingerly placing her hand against the trunk. It was cool, the bark rough beneath her hand, and it felt no different from any other tree she had ever touched.
“I don’t feel anything unusual,” she said uncertainly.
“Try another,” Mithrais encouraged her.
Telyn stepped closer to the next tree. She frowned and narrowed her eyes at Mithrais as she touched the trunk.
“You’re jesting with me, Mithrais! It’s just another tree.”
“I assure you, you will know.” Mithrais’ voice was rich with suppressed laughter. “There’s only one left.”
Telyn sighed, shaking her head. She stood before the largest tree, and placed her hand on it, pressing her palm firmly against the trunk...
And gasped, startled! The spark Telyn had felt when she and Mithrais had first touched their hands palm to palm was there, and more. The tree was warm, thrumming with a deep vibration that she could feel in her throat, beneath her feet, and crackling overhead: a deep, pulsing, musical harmony threatened to overwhelm her with sound. Unlike the sharing of senses with Mithrais, which had been a gentle immersion by comparison, this was drowning.
Telyn jerked her hand away and stepped back, the silence of night suddenly deafening in her ears.
“What is it?” she said, almost frightened.
“It won’t hurt you. What did you feel?” Mithrais was by her side, his presence warm and reassuring.
Telyn shook her head, her hand on the hollow of her throat. “It was like music, a vibration of a harp string, but so strong that it felt almost painful.” A faint buzz was in her ears, prickling the hair on the back of her neck. “I can still feel it.”
“Well done.” Mithrais wore a pleased smile that she could just make out in the dimness. “The intensity of contact will ease as you become accustomed to it. The resonance you felt last night, the pulse of the Wood, is the way the Gwaith’orn sense changes in their environment. I was able to find the tree folk by following the vibration back to the source. Even those without the gift can sometimes sense the Gwaith’orn, and it makes them uneasy—the true reason, perhaps, behind the tales of haunted groves, and spirits of the Wood.”
“The Gwaith’orn are real?” Telyn was dumbfounded and could not believe her ears, staring upwards into the branches. “You can’t mean to tell me that those old tales are true. Trees that speak aloud?”
“They haven’t spoken aloud for hundreds of years, but yes, the tales are true. They are living beings, with a will of their own, and the Tauron are in their service as well as that of the Lord of Cerisild. It’s through their resonance that we learned you were in danger last night.”
Mithrais placed his own hands on the tree, and was silent for the span of a few minutes as the bard struggled to assimilate the information. Telyn watched him intently. Although there was no outward sign of anything occurring, her newly heightened sensitivity to what Mithrais had called ‘resonance’ felt a series of tingling pulses go out, and return moments before Mithrais spoke again, removing his hands from the trunk.
“Nothing moves in the western Wood tonight but us. We’re two hours walk from the nearest outpost. It’s not an active post, but we keep it supplied in case of need. I’m afraid that the rain is almost upon us as well, which may add additional time to our journey. Will you be all right until then?”
“I will.” Telyn eyed the tree warily. “How do the Gwaith’orn know where we are? Can they see us?”
“Let me think how I can explain in terms of music, although my tutors told me that I’m better suited for less artistic pursuits.” Mithrais looked up at the tree, and back at Telyn. “You likened it to a harp string. When the strings vibrate together in a certain order, the sound is pleasing, and a chord or a harmony is created. When struck in the wrong order, discord results. Is that correct thus far?”
“You’re making perfect sense to me. Go on.”
They resumed their journey, and Mithrais soon thought of another analogy. “Each Gwaith’orn is a string in the whole chord. The vibrations travel through the roots in the ground, the intermingling branches, and the very air. Something moving through that resonance disrupts it, and sends it back to its source unexpectedly: an echo returning a voice to the singer.”
Telyn laughed delightedly. “You’re very good at this.”
“I’m afraid that the musical references are over, as I can think of no better way to explain what follows.” Mithrais turned and offered his hand to assist her in jumping over a small gulley in the forest floor. “The Gwaith’orn are able to form images from these vibrations, ones that we with the gift of heartspeaking are able to interpret. The Gwaith’orn also allow us to send images in order to communicate with other wardens. I have done so tonight. The other wardens will soon know that we may have a bounty hunter entering the western Wood.”
The tingling awareness of the Gwaith’orn at the back of her neck was receding with every step Telyn took, and she looked back again, wondering. “But are they truly a living being?” she inquired.
“Oh, yes. They live. They recognize the Tauron, and individual Gwaith’orn will even draw our attention when something is amiss with those directed pulses you felt in the clearing last night. It’s called a summons.” The Wood began to fill with a growing hiss of rain on leaves, and Mithrais looked up at the sky as the first drops began to fall upon them. He raised the hood of his cloak.
“But how did they know I was in danger last night?” Telyn persisted, drawing up her own hood against the steadily increasing rain. Mithrais stopped, and turned to face her gravely.
“That is the greatest secret of the Tauron Order. You have heard the tales that wardens can see into the souls of men and know if they are evil? We seldom contradict this belief—it serves our purpose and keeps many violent men out of the Wood. But it isn’t the Tauron who hold this power. It is the Gwaith’orn.”