Chapter Twenty-Five

 

Every eye was on the yellow-haired initiate as he faced them, returning their stares with composure and a confidence that he had never before projected.

“How long have you known?” Telyn demanded of Cormac, sinking into her chair.

“Since I was a child.” Cormac shrugged apologetically. “They’ve always cautioned me not to say anything until I was recognized by the seed-voice. I wasn’t sure how much they’ve told you.”

“You withheld this information from us? You mentioned none of this in any of your mind-to-mind reports!” The Elder Martial was indignant, and Cormac looked scandalized.

“I intended no deception,” he protested earnestly. “It would have meant nothing to anyone until now. I learned only last night that the time to fulfill the covenant had come, just as you did.”

Declan looked somewhat dubious as Cormac reclaimed his chair. “Do we need to confirm this with the Gwaith'orn?” the Elder Watchwarden asked of his peers.

“I could make a mind-to-mind confirmation of Cormac's claim,” Semias countered, “but every one of us already knows how his relationship with the Gwaith'orn differs from ours. Until Lady Telyn's gift of words was discovered, there was no one who understood them more completely than he. I believe him.”

“It is possible that the Gwaith'orn may have chosen not to openly recognize the seed-speaker until the seed-voice appeared,” Conlad hazarded. “After all, if what Lady Telyn read in the records is true, they may have wished to avert another premature attempt.”

“But she was declared last night, and Cormac was not,” Jona complained sourly. “I feel that we must be sure before we unconditionally accept the word of an initiate.”

There was some bristling around the table at this pronouncement, and even Telyn drew a startled breath at the slight. Mithrais, his eyes narrowed, was about to defend his comrade, but someone else spoke first.

“Cormac has proven himself a Tauron warden in every way but one,” Colm stated, his voice dangerously even. “He has but to take the vows, and that can be immediately remedied if it is your only objection, Elder Martial.”

“I will undergo any test you feel is warranted,” Cormac said stonily, drawing himself up.

“Precisely what knowledge do you possess, Cormac?” Mithrais asked the young warden more gently.

“It’s not something I can put into words,” Cormac confessed to his commanding officer, coloring brightly. “I just...know it. I think that I can give the knowledge mind-to-mind more easily than I can tell you.”

“Will you show us what you know, seed-speaker?” Mithrais requested. He rose and stood behind Telyn's chair, offering one palm to Cormac, and the other to Telyn. The young warden firmly clasped his extended hand without hesitation, his expression one of gratitude as he registered that Mithrais did not question his claim. Telyn grasped both men's hands, and the triad of shared thought formed seamlessly as Cormac opened his mind to them.

Cormac's role as the seed-speaker was far more than Genefar had described in her chronicle. He was the balance between the seed-voice and the Gwaith'orn, serving both as the temperance of the raw power to be unleashed, and as the measure of success. What else Cormac showed them was indeed beyond words, and the bard had to struggle slightly to put it into context.

The fulfilling of the covenant was not simply a vehicle that would facilitate the return of magic to the Silde—it was a rebirth for the Gwaith'orn, an act that would transform them into something they had not been for the better part of a thousand years. Not even Gwidion suspected how much of the tree folk's power was bound up in the spells that sealed the fount. Once they were free of that burden, they would grow strong again as the fount was replenished, just as they had told the Tauron in the Circle...but precisely how powerful would the Gwaith'orn be, and how would that power manifest?

Mithrais’ expression was thoughtful as he withdrew his hand from Cormac's. The younger man waited with a mildly anxious expression. When Mithrais nodded wordlessly, acknowledging what he had been shown, Cormac relaxed with a relieved sigh.

Her hand still entwined with that of her lifemate, Telyn was caught between relief and bewilderment. The room was profoundly silent, the rest of the wardens watching the trio with intense interest.

“Well?” Jona asked impatiently.

“He is the seed-speaker.” Mithrais was still dazzled by what Cormac had shown him. “I could try to tell you what he knows, but I think that it will be much more meaningful if he has the opportunity to share this with each of you, mind-to-mind.”

“Then we have nothing to fear,” Eirion ventured with reckless excitement. “It seems that our success is assured.”

At this, Telyn raised her head sharply. “We have been given no assurances of success,” she warned quietly. “The act itself is still dangerous. I have never attempted magic of this magnitude, and I have no real concept of my own role. I have nothing but Genefar's scrolls on which to base my actions, and I don't even know that I can rely on the account of a failed attempt. It isn't much to go on.”

“The obvious source of information would be the Gwaith’orn,” Declan proposed.

“They seem to think they have shown me everything I need to know, and yet I feel I know nothing,” the bard said with frustration, unconsciously clasping her arms around herself in a defensive posture. “I'm afraid I don't have as much confidence in them as you do.”

“Lady Telyn, given your inexperience, it is natural to mistrust them,” Semias allowed, his voice kind but firm. “I am aware of your fear, and I understand that it is not without reason. However, I think that Declan's suggestion is the best that anyone could make. The Gwaith'orn may seem evasive to you, but a great deal of what we Tauron must learn before we go into the Wood in service is to learn to ask them the right questions, and to yield to their will when questions fail.”

Telyn shuddered slightly, and Mithrais touched her arm unobtrusively, offering reassurance. She made an effort to relax, placing her hands on the table.

“I had planned to consult them tomorrow regarding the seed-speaker, but since that particular problem has been resolved...” Telyn raised an eyebrow at Cormac, who grinned back. She breathed out in resignation. “I will ask them for more guidance.”

“What about sharing your powers with the rest of us? Will they be able to help?” Gaelen inquired.

Mithrais exchanged glances with Telyn, and seated himself. “We believe we have found the answer to that in the scroll,” he explained at the bard's nod, “but it will require Conlad's assistance.”

“Mine?” Conlad looked surprised.

“Genefar used an incantation to bring everyone together in order to share her powers, and we’ve discovered that it’s enough to allow Telyn to call on her song magic,” Mithrais told him. “She used the Tauron vows in their old form, and we hoped you might remember them.”

Conlad's face lit up. “Remember them? Mithrais, you know they are engraved upon my heart,” he said with gentle reproach, and closed his eyes, intoning reverently,

“Isild lea siangenath

Gaeth orn lea urilath

Tauron cuil connat...”

Telyn could not help but flash a triumphant smile at Mithrais as Conlad spoke the first of the fluid verses in a singsong manner. It sounded exactly as Telyn had hoped it would; the ancient words held the mysterious quality of a spell, and their rhythm was clearly defined.

“Will you teach us, Conlad?” she asked, and looked round the table at the wardens. “It's important that all of us learn to speak it in just that manner. Before we attempt anything else, it needs to be second nature.”

“I would be honored to be of service,” Conlad agreed, his wizened face beaming with pleasure. “It is good to know that I am still useful.”

“Tomorrow, we will consult the Gwaith’orn,” Jona stated.

“That is acceptable,” Declan said. “However, before we continue, we must settle the matter of the Elders' involvement, given that the undertaking seems to hold no small amount of peril.”

“As I mentioned before, I have no objection to anyone observing our actions. But I strongly feel that only those who were chosen should participate,” Telyn stated levelly. To her surprise, Declan nodded in firm agreement.

“I concur that it should be an observational role only. We do not know if anyone else holds the potential to wield your powers, and this ultimately is the reason that the Gwaith'orn chose these wardens over any others.” Declan's words were mild, but directed at Jona, and everyone there knew it. “The Elder Martial is the logical choice for this assignment,” he continued with some finality. “The safety of the Gwaith'orn is one of the chief concerns of his office.”

Jona could barely contain his satisfaction that he was being included, and Telyn doubted that he would accept being relegated to an observational status. She inclined her head in acquiescence, her expression the carefully neutral mask of a diplomat. Looking around the table, she knew that the wardens were not happy with this development. They stiffened collectively, ready to protest, but Declan met Telyn’s eyes, and she saw that the Elder Watchwarden was quite aware of the friction that might arise as a result of Jona's appointment.

Speaking quickly over the rustle of discontent, Declan continued, “However, Lady Telyn, as the senior Elder I have the right to make personnel appointments as I see fit. The wardens have made it quite clear that they will follow your directives in this matter, and I understand that you are a trained soldier. It is my intent to award you the temporary commission of Wood Commander for the duration of this endeavor.”

There was a stir of excitement and welcome disbelief around the tables from the Tauron. Telyn grew to understand from a quick explanation by Mithrais that the rank of Wood Commander superseded even that of the Elders in times of conflict, allowing the officer so designated to move troops where they saw fit and to draw their own strategies without the consultation of the Elders. In effect, Telyn had just been given command of her own army.

It was clear that the Elder Martial did not like this pronouncement; Jona's mouth was open, and he made the attempt to speak several times before he finally was able to voice his opposition.

“We are not at war, and she’s not even a Tauron warden. The rank of Wood Commander is excessive for such an undertaking.”

“On the contrary,” Declan replied shortly. “The fate of the Gwaith'orn is in the balance, and Lady Telyn is the only one present with any experience in matters of magic. Anyone with military training can take the rank of commander in extreme circumstances, whether they are Tauron or not. She will retain sole authority in this operation.” Declan turned to the assembled wardens. “I need no consensus from the rest of the Elders to make a field appointment, but if you wish to put it to a vote, we can do so.”

The Elder Watchwarden's voice was slightly unsteady, but it seemed he had at last found his footing against Jona's forceful personality. Semias and Conlad appeared ready to second Declan's movement, and the wardens had cast their lot at the beginning of the council. Jona knew he was defeated.

“That will not be necessary,” he said gruffly.

“It is settled.” Declan looked slightly surprised, as if he could not believe that he had bested the Elder Martial. “Lady Telyn, you may begin to train your company as you see fit.”

Telyn took a deep breath. She did not think she fully comprehended the nuances of what had just occurred, but she knew that she had been given command and hastened to act. “Thank you, Elder Watchwarden. Conlad, would you please teach us the old vows? The incantation is of primary importance, as it will provide a focus that will allow us all to work in concert. Once we accomplish that, we can begin to learn together what it means in terms of magic.”