“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.
Her thoughts flashed back to the night of Aric’s life celebration, when Cormac had been able to call her song magic forth on his own. Telyn had put it down to the fact that he could share her gifts, but she now was almost certain that it was the atmosphere in the Circle which was responsible—her gifts were in a constant state of activity there, stimulated by the primal power that resided in the earth. Once they had shared her powers that night, Cormac and Colm had instinctively known how to access them. The men who had not been able to call on her gifts had now shared her powers via the incantation, and should possess that reference point as well.
If she was right, this would allow the men to use her gifts without being bound to her will. She began to think that this was what had doomed Genefar’s attempt: trapped by her powerful, untrained influence, most of Genefar’s men had not been able to break the connection when she lost control.
She looked around wildly to see if anyone was awake, excitement stripping the last cobwebs of sleep from her mind. No one was stirring, but unable to wait, she shook Mithrais gently. He woke immediately, sitting up and untangling himself from his cloak.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, and Telyn shook her head, smiling.
“I don’t think so. Wake up Cormac, and we’ll find out.”
* * * *
Half an hour later, as the first blue-grey light of dawn was touching the sky, she had her answer.
Cormac had immediately been able to access her gifts, and create the link between them without the aid of the incantation or a direct mind-to-mind joining. The energies in the Circle had come eagerly to their call, gathering between them with frightening speed, and Telyn had quickly directed it to Mithrais, who in turn, was able to draw the magic in and broadcast it outwards as they had done in the guild house, but without being bound to Telyn’s will. At her signal, Mithrais terminated the link on his own, sending all the power back to that space between Cormac and Telyn.
The brief building of power had wakened the rest of the wardens, who gathered to find out what was happening, and listened to Telyn’s explanation.
“I believe that this will allow each of you to drop out of the working if I can’t control the magic,” she finished. “I think this is why so many wardens died the first time. I don’t want that to happen here. You must be free to drop out if you become endangered.”
“What about you and Cormac?” Colm asked.
Telyn exchanged glances with the young warden, who shrugged, already knowing the answer.
“We are the convergence of power,” Cormac told them. “Telyn and I must bind to each other, and to the Gwaith’orn, or it will not work. There won’t be a way for us to get out if things go badly.”
“But Telyn has skills that Genefar didn’t,” Mithrais added. “The Gwaith’orn believe she can accomplish this, and so do I.”
“As do we all,” Eirion said, “else we would not be here.”
“It’s nearly dawn—we should be prepared,” someone else said, and Telyn nodded decisively.
“We’ll try this first time without the connection to the Gwaith’orn. I want to know exactly how much power we can call, and what effects it has on all of us. Afterwards, we can decide what tomorrow will bring.”
* * * *
The first attempt was staggering in its magnitude.
Evenly spaced between each Gwaith’orn, the eight wardens completed the broken Circle. Telyn and Cormac stood at the center, facing each other over the granite slab. Together, they raised their arms to the sides, shoulder height and slightly curved, as if to embrace what they were about to call. Cormac called her magic to him, and the connection was made.
Telyn felt the power gather as their gifts combined, immense and almost oppressive in its presence. Instead of constricting the energies to the area between their joined hands as they had in their earliest attempts, Telyn and Cormac took the slow, measured steps backwards toward the east and west. The power began to gather in the midst of the Circle, swirling with the force of a hurricane—even the grass stirred beneath it, ruffled by unseen fingers of energy.
Even as she and Cormac continued to increase the area between them, Telyn willed the magic outward, and felt it picked up by all eight wardens in succession as the gale subsided momentarily, only to build again until that ghostly glow began to form in the emptiness of the Circle. The bard stopped before she would have walked under the canopy of the easternmost tree, as did Cormac in the west. They did not envelop the Gwaith’orn with the power she had gathered as they would when the final working took place. There was power enough and more to accomplish what the tree folk wished, and Telyn was taken aback by the ease with which they had called it.
She was about to signal Cormac to begin to disperse what they had called when the sunrise began to touch the tops of the trees. Without warning, the level of energy suddenly doubled. It was almost a physical blow; Telyn rocked backwards, and immediately began to pull back her magic, although the wardens continued to stand firm against the surge of power.
It was a herculean effort to will the immense power to subside the midst of the Circle, pushing against it as she walked back to the center of the Circle and faced Cormac once more. Telyn felt shaky and weak by the time Cormac released her magic. Mithrais came from his place in the northeast as she sat down heavily on the grass, utterly spent. Across the grey stone, Cormac had fallen to his hands and knees in exhaustion, Gaelen and Colm coming to his aid.
“How do you feel?” Telyn managed to ask Mithrais, and he shook his head as he sat beside her, supporting her against his body.
“Tired, but not debilitated. The flow was enormous at the end, but I believe that we could have handled more.”
“I don’t think that Cormac and I could,” Telyn panted. “The level of power felt more than adequate to do what the Gwaith’orn are asking before the sun came up, but afterwards...”
“That could have flattened a mountain if we told it to,” Cormac gasped as he sprawled on his back. He let out his breath with a whoosh, the sunny grin still wide on his weary face.
Jona and Conlad came from where they had watched outside the Circle, sheltering behind the trunks of the Gwaith’orn.
“We were protected from the brunt of the energy, but we could tell that it was frighteningly powerful,” Conlad reported. “Had we been standing in the open, we could have been knocked off our feet.”
“I hope that that kind of energy won’t be available to anyone with the gift to use it,” Jona said worriedly. “Who knows what havoc it could wreak?”
“That is something we will have to determine,” Mithrais confirmed grimly.
There was a gentle pulse from the ground beneath Telyn; it was a summons from the Gwaith’orn, and she groaned. “Oh, why do they want to talk now?”
“I’m certain they want to know what we’re doing,” Cormac hazarded, and Telyn dragged herself up with Mithrais’ assistance to make steps to the trunk of the easternmost tree, leaning against it with both palms in weary resignation.
Yes, old ones?
Their excitement was evident in the rapid trill of music their presence created. We tasted the power. Why did you not allow us to participate?
We want to be certain that we succeed the first time. We wished to know how the power affects us, so we can prepare.
You have done well. Telyn felt their approval, and their impatience. We have not sensed so much power since the covenant was sealed. We thirst for it.
Soon, you will drink from the fount again, she reassured them. Now, we must rest and regain our strength.
At the rise of the sun, we will participate and the covenant will be fulfilled.
Telyn frowned. We may not be ready.
You are ready. At the rise of the sun.
“Not so fast,” she muttered aloud, but the Gwaith’orn had already withdrawn from contact. She removed her hands from the trunk, staring upwards into the branches in consternation.
“What did they want?” Mithrais asked her as the rest of the wardens joined them near the tree.
“They don’t appear to want to give us time for another rehearsal,” Telyn said irritably. “Tomorrow at dawn, they want to fulfill the covenant.”
The men exchanged glances of inquiry, and seemed to reach a silent accord.
“Is there any reason not to make the attempt?” Cormac asked her seriously.
The question brought Telyn up short, her temper subsiding. The morning’s work had been a success. She had done what she could to assure that the men would be able to save themselves should she be unable to bend the power to her will. There truly was no reason to delay, which served only to mollify her fears. She scanned the faces around her, seeing nothing but steady conviction. They were waiting for an answer, trusting her judgment.
“No, there isn’t,” she finally conceded quietly. “We have proven that the knowledge we were given works. We will make the attempt tomorrow, as they wish.”
* * * *
After eating a cold breakfast, Telyn slept for several hours, as did Cormac, both exhausted from the morning’s efforts. It fell to the rest of the men to find activities to pass the time, seeking an outlet for the restless, anticipatory mood that seemed to inhabit them all. The following dawn could not come too soon for most of them.
Colm played his low whistle meditatively, his eyes far away and unfocused. The music was sweet and achingly poignant. Mithrais listened while he leaned back in the grass beside the sleeping bard, and wondered what the Northwarden’s thoughts were. When Colm became aware of his regard, he stopped playing, grinning in self-deprecation.
“Not the kind of tune for keeping one’s spirits high,” he admitted. Mithrais acknowledged him with a quirk of a smile.
“It’s a strange day,” he allowed. “I feel as if we’re about to go into battle.”
Colm nodded. “I am anxious to see it done.” His voice dropped to a lower register, meant for Mithrais’ ears alone. “I’ve spoken to the others. Cormac and Telyn may have given us a way out, but we will not abandon them if it comes to it. I would not leave a comrade to battle alone.”
“Nor will I,” Mithrais responded, hearing his own thoughts in Colm’s avowal. He lay back on the grass, folding his arms beneath his head and studying the cloudscapes. “I fear that our roles in these practice workings are deceptively passive. Tomorrow will be the true test.”
“Tomorrow,” Colm echoed, and looked at his low whistle. “I think that I need to find an alternative distraction.” He gave Mithrais a half-grin, and climbed to his feet, wandering toward Eirion and Kevan, who had begun playing a game with Conlad that involved dice and a coveted bag of sugared almonds, a known weakness that plagued the Elder Historian. Mithrais grinned and turned back to the blue and white expanse above the clearing.
He felt no fear, only that inexplicable sense that everything was right; that all the pieces were in place and the puzzle about to be solved. Only when he turned his head toward the deeply slumbering Telyn did he have a fleeting moment of foreboding: lying there on the earth, her eyes closed, she appeared pale and lifeless in the shadow of the Gwaith’orn. His thoughts touched on the circumstance that once more, they were within the Circle, facing the specter of death together. Then she stirred, those lovely, tawny eyes opening, and she smiled sleepily at him.
“How late is it?” she asked, stretching luxuriously. Mithrais rolled over on his side, moved anew by her alluring mix of strength and vulnerability.
“It’s just midday.” He touched her hair, moving the stubborn curls back from her eyes. “You can sleep a bit more, if you wish.”
Telyn considered that a moment, and shook her head. “No.” She pushed herself up slowly, and smiled down at him again with a touch of mischief in her eyes. “Do you know what I’d like to do?”
“What?”
“I’d like to walk through the Wood with you for a while. Slowly, without fear of being chased by bounty hunters.”
Mithrais laughed. He rolled lithely to his feet and extended a hand to help her rise. “There is a glade I think you might like, and a place to swim, if you are so inclined.”