They filed into the great room of the Tauron Guild House the next morning, which had been cleared of tables in order to facilitate this first attempt at calling power.
Declan called Mithrais aside for private conversation, his face troubled. “Lord Gwidion understands the danger inherent in this act, does he not?” he asked. “Is he willing to risk the loss of his son should it fail?”
Mithrais, seeing nothing but genuine concern in the Elder Watchwarden’s eyes, responded quietly, “My father and I agree upon the importance of the task, and are willing to risk the potential consequences.” He turned his gaze to Telyn and Cormac, who were conferring together, and the other seven wardens, who waited confidently to begin. “But to this brave company, I don’t think failure is an option.”
With the Tauron Elders looking on, Telyn and Cormac took their places at the center of the room, ringed by the wardens. The seed voice and her counterpart faced each other, their hands outspread to either side, not yet touching, as the eight men who surrounded them began to chant in unison:
“Isild lea siangenath
Gaeth orn lea urilath
Tauron cuil connat.”
Telyn and Cormac joined them on the second verse:
“Mathain lea pridis
Lea fil bain ispiridis
Craigh cuil connat.”
The incantation was repeated, and Telyn’s song magic came to life, roused from its resting place by the rhythm of voices that called it forth. The bard felt it touch Cormac first, and slowly, they brought their palms together at shoulder level, their minds joining easily as their fingers entwined. They both experienced the spiraling disorientation that had accompanied the first blending of their gifts, which was becoming less intense each time they made the connection.
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.