The Seven Songs

by T.A. Barron

  Both the girl and the jester started. Even the silent cedars jostled their branches, seeming to gasp.

  Rhia leaned toward me. “Are you serious?”

  “Completely.” I pushed the hair off my brow. “If we can save a day, or even an hour, it could be worth my mother’s life.”

  Bumbelwy, his frowns carved deep into his face, grabbed the sleeve of my tunic. “You mustn’t do this. Those hills are deadly.”

  I pulled free. “If you would rather stay here with Tuatha, go right ahead.” As his eyes opened to their widest, I struck my staff on the needle-strewn ground. “Let’s go.”

  We left the shadowed glade, trekking through the marshy terrain. Except for the steady rattle of Bumbelwy’s bells, we moved in silence. At least, I thought grimly, the Grand Elusa will hear us coming. But would we hear her? And would she hold back her appetite long enough to remember that she had once welcomed Rhia and me as guests in her crystal cave? My legs felt weak at the thought of her slavering jaws.

  As our feet squelched through the muddy soil, the trees thinned and I noticed more landmarks. An odd, chair-shaped boulder splotched with yellow lichen. The twisted skeleton of a dead tree. A patch of flaming orange moss. A strange, triangular pit. In the deepening dusk, more water seeped into the soil, as well as our boots. Soon I heard frogs piping in the distance. Water birds joined the chorus, crying in eerie voices. The dank, rotting smell grew stronger. Before long, we arrived at the edge of a wide stretch of tall grasses, dead trees, and dark pools of quicksand. The swamp.

  Waving two mud-splattered sleeves, Bumbelwy protested, “We’re not going across that now, are we? It’s almost nightfall.”

  “Either we camp here,” I replied, “or find some drier ground in the hills. What do you think, Rhia?”

  She pulled a handful of purple berries off a low bush and popped them into her mouth. “Mmm. Still sweet.”

  “Rhia?”

  “Drier ground,” she answered at last. “Though the berries here are tasty.”

  As the cry of a swamp crane echoed hauntingly from the shadows. Bumbelwy shook his head. “A lovely choice. Spend the night in a swamp, and get strangled by deadly snakes, or at the Grand Elusa’s doorstep, and get eaten as her breakfast.”

  “The choice is yours.” I started off, leaping over a rotting log. I landed with a splash in a puddle. Seconds later I heard two more splashes—along with bells and a lot of grumbling behind me.

  For a while I followed a strip of caked mud that pointed like a finger into the marsh. Yet that soon faded away, making it necessary to slog straight through the grassy pools. Sometimes I sank into water up to my thighs. Long, blackened fingers of submerged branches clutched at my tunic, while mud oozed into my boots. And every so often, strange shapes stirred in the unknown depths.

  The light waned steadily. Tonight there would be no moon, however, for thick clouds had rolled in, obscuring the sky. Just as well, I told myself. Seeing the moon would remind me all the more of my vanishing time, as well as hope.

  We pushed on in the near-darkness. After another hour of slogging and splashing, all light vanished. A snake hissed somewhere near my boot. I began to fear that we had somehow veered off course. The murk seemed to stretch on endlessly. My legs felt heavier and heavier. Then, little by little, the terrain began to grow more solid under my feet. At first I hardly noticed the change, but in time I could tell that we were climbing gradually onto rocky ground. The rotten pools disappeared, as did their smell. The cries of frogs and birds faded behind us.

  We had crossed the swamp.

  Exhausted, we stumbled into a level clearing surrounded by boulders. I declared it our camp for the night. In unison, we flopped down on the mossy ground. To warm my cold hands, I slid them into the opposite sleeves of my tunic. My eyes closed, and I fell asleep.

  I awoke when a large drop of rain splashed on my nose. Another drop came, and another. A cloud on the horizon flashed suddenly with light, and thunder rumbled over the ridge. The downpour began. Rain pelted us, driven by the rising wind. The night sky grew even darker, as if the clouds had condensed into great slabs of rock. Waves of water poured down from the sky. Even if I could somehow have changed into a fish, I’d have been no wetter. All I needed now was gills.

  Shivering from the cold, I moved closer to one of the boulders, hoping to find at least a little shelter. That was when I realized that the boulder was moving closer to me.

  “Living stones!” cried Rhia. “We’ve got to get—”

  “Aaaaiieee!” screamed Bumbelwy. “It’s eating me!”

  I tried to roll away from the boulder. Yet the shoulder of my tunic was caught, holding me fast. I tugged on it, trying to break loose. As water streamed down my face, I pounded my fist against the stone.

  My fist hit the wet rock—and stuck there. It wouldn’t budge! Then, to my horror, the rock started closing around it. Swallowing my whole hand with lips of stone. I shrieked, but a clap of thunder drowned out my voice. In the blackness, in the torrent, I fought with all my strength to pull free.

  Soon the stone had consumed my whole hand. Then my wrist. My forearm. My elbow. Hard as I kicked and squirmed, I could not get away. Though I could still feel my fingers and hand, the pressure on them was increasing steadily. In no time my bones would disintegrate, crushed in the jaws of a living stone.

  A sudden flash of lightning brightened the ridge. In that instant, a huge, hulking figure, broader than the boulders themselves, entered the clearing. Its voice, louder even than the thunder, rose above the storm.

  “Huuungry,” bellowed the great beast. “I aaam huuungry.”

  “The Grand Elusa!” shouted Rhia.

  Bumbelwy screamed again, the scream of a man about to die.

  In a single leap, the Grand Elusa landed at my side, her eight legs splattering mud in all directions. Despite the rain and the darkness, my second sight could not miss her massive jaws opening. As I glimpsed the endless rows of jagged teeth, I struggled all the harder to escape. The jaws closed.

  Not on me! With a terrific crunch, the Grand Elusa took an enormous bite out of the living stone itself. The boulder shuddered violently, then released my arm. I tumbled backward onto muddy ground. Before I knew what was happening, someone fell on top of me, as a blast of white light seared the ridge.

  14: THE CRYSTAL CAVE

  Light, sparkling like stars, danced all around me. And around Rhia and Bumbelwy, as well, for we lay in a single heap of arms and legs and torn clothing. I pushed someone’s dripping foot out of my face and sat up. Aside from being soaking wet and feeling intensely sore in my hand, I was fine. Wherever I might be.

  In a flash, I recognized the rows upon rows of glowing crystals, the shimmering waves of light that vibrated over the walls, and the sheer magnificence of this place. Thousands upon thousands of dazzling facets, each as smooth as ice, glittered on all sides, shining with a light of their own. The crystal cave! On my first visit here, I had known that I had never been anywhere as beautiful. Now I knew it again.

  Something cracked behind me. I swung my head around to see the Grand Elusa herself, her body so vast that it nearly filled the entire glowing cavern. She had just taken a bite of what looked like the hind quarters of a wild boar. Her huge eyes, faceted like crystals themselves, observed me as she chewed. After swallowing the last morsel, she licked her arms clean with surprising delicacy.

  “Welcooome tooo myyy caaave,” she bellowed.

  Bumbelwy, his bells jingling as he shivered, clutched my sleeve in terror. “Are—are we n-n-next?”

  “Of course not,” chided Rhia, her damp curls sparkling like the crystals around us. “She brought us here to get us away from the living stones.”

  “S-s-so she c-could eat us hers s-self,” stuttered the jester.

  “Siiilence.” The gargantuan spider scratched the white hump on her back. “I haaave saaatisfied myyy huuunger fooor nooow. Luuucky fooor youuu, liiiving stooones taaake sooome tiiime tooo diiigest. Theee
boooar waaas meeerely deeessert.”

  Using the sleeve of my tunic, I wiped the raindrops off my face. “Thank you. But how did you get us here so fast?’

  “Leeeaping.” The Grand Elusa edged a bit closer, so that I could see myself reflected dozens of times in the facets of her eyes. “Iiit iiis aaan aaart youuu maaay leeearn ooone daaay.”

  “Leaping is one of the Seven Songs I have to master! Don’t tell me I need to learn how to do what you just did. That alone could take a lifetime.”

  “Maaany liiifetimes.” The great white spider continued to examine me. “Espeeecially fooor ooone whooo caaanot compleeete hiiis taaasks. Wheeere haaave youuu leeeft theee Flooowering Haaaip?”

  Perspiration beaded on my brow. “It’s safe. In Arbassa. But I can’t go back to the Dark Hills now! I have another problem to solve first.”

  “Aaa proooblem youuu caaaused.”

  I lowered my head. “Yes.”

  “Aaa proooblem,” thundered the creature, “thaaat youuu caaan stiiill sooolve.”

  Slowly, I raised my head. “Are you saying I might really have some chance to save her?”

  One of her enormous legs tapped against the floor of crystals. “Aaa minuscuuule chaaance iiis stiiill aaa chaaance.”

  Rhia crawled a little nearer to me. “So Elen might survive?”

  “Sheee miiight, aaand heeer youuung maaan miiight aaas weeell.” As the Grand Elusa cleared her throat, the rumble echoed between the curving, crystalline walls. “Buuut heee wiiill neeed tooo surviiive thiiis queeest, aaand maaany mooore, befooore heee maaay ooone daaay fiiind hiiis ooown crystaaal caaave.”

  “My own crystal cave?” My heart leaped at the idea. “Is that really possible?”

  “Aaanything iiis possiiible.”

  The immense spider slid her bulk to one side, revealing an array of glittering objects. The Treasures of Fincayra! I recognized the Orb of Fire, its orange sphere aglow like the crystals; the graceful horn I knew to be the Caller of Dreams; and the great sword Deepercut, with one edge that could slice all the way into the soul, and another edge that could heal any wound. Just behind them, I glimpsed the plow that could till its own field, the Treasure that Honn had described to his son. Near it lay the rest of the Wise Tools—except for the one that had been lost.

  “Iiit iiis eeeven possiiible thaaat, ooone daaay, youuu maaay beee wiiise enouuugh tooo caaary ooone ooof theee Treasuuures aaand nooot destroooy mooore thaaan youuu creaaate.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “Youuu maaay teeell meee theee Seeeven Sooongs.” Not a request but a command, her words boomed in my ears.

  I hesitated for an instant, then sucked in my breath and began:

  The Seven Songs of Wizardry,

  One melody and many,

  May guide ye to the Otherworld,

  Though hope ye have not any.

  Bumbelwy, who was huddled at the far end of the cavern, shook his head morosely, clanging his bells. The spider turned an enormous eye on him, and he instantly stopped.

  In the glow of the crystals, I continued, reciting the warning to master each of the Songs in turn. Rhia’s bright eyes sparkled like crystals themselves when I spoke the words that were now embedded in my very being: Each Song’s essential soul. Then I moved through the Seven Songs themselves. When, at the conclusion, I mentioned the eye of Balor, the Grand Elusa shifted her weight uneasily on the faceted floor.

  No one spoke for some time. At last the Grand Elusa’s voice rang out.

  “Aaare youuu afraaaid?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m afraid I can’t do it all in four phases of the moon.”

  “Iiis thaaat aaall?”

  “I’m afraid of how hard it will be to find the souls of the Songs.”

  “Iiis thaaat aaall?”

  I ran my hand nervously across the crystalline floor, feeling the sharp edges. “I’m afraid of the seventh one, Seeing, most of all. But . . . I don’t know why.”

  “Youuu shaaall fiiind ouuut whyyy, iiif youuu geeet thaaat faaar.”

  Using three of her arms, she scratched her hairy back. “Youuu maaay leeearn aaa liiittle maaagic, aaas weeell. Iiit iiis aaa piiity youuu wooon’t leeearn anythiiing reeealy uuuseful, thooough. Liiike hooow tooo spiiin aaa weeeb. Ooor hooow tooo cheeew aaa stooone.”

  Rhia giggled. Then her face grew taut. “What does it mean, the part about Balor’s eye?”

  The spider’s white hairs bristled. “Theee ooogre haaas ooonly ooone eeeye. Aaand iiit kiiills anyooone whooo loooks intooo iiit, eeeven fooor aaan iiinstant.”

  Rhia leaned toward me. “That must be how Tuatha died.”

  “Yeees indeeed,” declared the Grand Elusa. “Aaand hooow youuu tooo wiiill diiie, iiif youuu aaare nooot caaareful.”

  I frowned. “The truth is, I may never get past the first Song. When you found us, we were trekking to Faro Lanna, in the hope of learning something that might help. But with no treelings left, it is hardly a hope at all.”

  “Iiit iiis theee ooonly hooope youuu haaave.”

  “Faro Lanna is so far away from here,” said Rhia despairingly. “It’s a good week’s walk, even if we don’t run into any more trouble.”

  “A week!” I groaned. “We don’t have that much time to spare.”

  A sudden explosion of white light filled the crystal cave.

  15: CHANGING

  We found ourselves sitting on a grassy field at the edge of a sheer cliff that dropped straight to the sea. As I peered over the edge, I viewed colonies of kittiwakes and silver-winged terns nesting on the cliff wall, screeching and chattering and tending to their young. A cool breeze smacked my face. The smell of salt water seasoned the air. Far below me, the white line of surf melted into bright blue and then into green as dark as jade. Across a wide channel of water, I could barely make out the shape of a small island, dark and mysterious. Behind it billowed the wall of mist that surrounded all of Fincayra.

  I turned to Rhia and Bumbelwy, also investigating our new surroundings. To think that we had, only seconds before, been inside the Grand Elusa’s crystal cave! Wherever we were now, it was far away from there. Such a wondrous skill, to move people like that. She had even remembered to send along my staff. I made a mental note to pay close attention to the fifth lesson, Leaping, should I ever make it that far.

  Rhia bounced to her feet. “Look there,” she cried, pointing toward the small island. “Do you see it?”

  I stood, leaning against my staff. “That island out there, yes. Looks almost unreal, doesn’t it?”

  Rhia continued to stare. “That’s because it is almost unreal. That’s the Forgotten Island. I’m sure of it.”

  A shiver shook my spine. “The seventh Song! That’s where I must go to learn about Seeing.” I glanced at her briefly before turning back to the island, shrouded by shifting vapors. “Have you seen it before?”

  “No.”

  “Then how can you be so sure it’s the Forgotten Island?”

  “Arbassa’s stories, of course. It’s the only piece of land in all of Fincayra that’s not connected to the main island. No one—not even Dagda himself, it is said—has set foot there for ages. And except for the mer people who live in this inlet, no one knows how to cross the powerful currents, and even more powerful enchantments, that swirl around it all the time.”

  I dodged a gull that swooped just in front of my face. Yet I couldn’t take my gaze from the island. “Sounds like people aren’t supposed to go there.” My stomach churned uneasily. “For whatever reason.”

  She sighed, still watching the island herself. “Some people believe it has something to do with how Fincayrans lost their wings long ago.”

  “Too true, too true, too true,” intoned Bumbelwy as he walked mopily toward us, jangling with every step. “That was the saddest moment in the whole sorry history of our people.”

  Was it possible that the dour jester knew how the wings were lost? I felt suddenly hopeful. “Do you know how it happened?”

&nb
sp; His long face swung toward me. “No one knows that. No one.”

  I frowned. Aylah, the wind sister, knew. But she hadn’t wanted to tell me. I wished I could ask her again. Yet that was impossible, as impossible as catching the wind. More than likely, she had blown all the way to Gwynedd by now.

  Rhia turned at last from the island. “Would you like to know where we are standing right now?”

  I gave her a nudge. “You still sound like a guide.”

  “You still need a guide,” she answered with a half grin. “We’re in Faro Lanna, the strip of land that once was home to the treelings.”

  Listening to the surging waves below us, I scanned the plateau. Steep, cream-colored cliffs bounded us on three sides. But for a few piles of crumbling stones, possibly all that remained of walls or hearths, nothing but grass covered the plateau. Far to the north, a line of dark green marked the edge of a forest. Beyond that, the horizon lifted in a purplish haze, possibly all that was visible of the Misted Hills.

  A dingy brown butterfly fluttered out of the grass and landed on my wrist. Its legs tickled, so I shook my hand. Then it flew off, landing on the knotted top of my staff. Its motionless wings blended into the deeper brown of the wood.

  With a sweep of my arm, I indicated the grassy plateau. “I don’t see how we’re ever going to learn about the treelings’ art of Changing. If they ever lived here, they didn’t leave much behind.”

  “That was their way.” Rhia picked up a white pebble and tossed it over the cliff. “The treelings were wanderers, always searching for someplace better to live. Someplace to sink roots, like true trees, and call home. Their only settlements were here, by the cliffs, but as you can tell from those rock piles, they weren’t much. Nothing more than shelters for the very old and the very young. No libraries or markets or meeting halls. Most treelings spent their days wandering across Fincayra, only coming back here when they were ready to find a mate or to die.”

  “So what happened to them?”