“A song from an impudent little girl such as yourself?
I doubt that it could inspire me to anything. I choose my companions based on their capacity to create distractions from boredom, not inspire my emotion.”
A nebulous idea now took firm shape in Gwynn’s head. “What if I could inspire emotion in you with a song?”
“No one has ever done that. What emotion would you like to try to rouse in me?” The Aeldive’s eyes glowed with interest.
“I will wager I can sing a song sad enough to bring tears to your eyes.” Gwynn shocked herself with the boldness of her words, and she did not dare to look away to see Shae’s reaction to those utterances. “If I manage to do so, you will release my father.”
Feral amusement began to show in Aere’s expression.
“Now that at least sounds like a challenge. Finally, I will have some diversion from your visit! I will accept your wager, Gryffyn’s daughter; make me weep and I shall release your father.”
Before Gwynn could answer, Shae interjected. “Do not bargain so simply. The terms of the wager will be that if Gwynn succeeds in making you weep, you will release Gryffyn and let us al go free from here. You will give your word on something you hold sacred.”
“Southron, why must you make petty conditions and be difficult?” Aere demanded. “Very well, I agree, but you will have to make do with my word alone.”
“I do,” Gwynn told her, “I accept the wager under those terms.” She took a firmer hold on her Harp, doing her 218
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best to make it understand that together they must create a song that would not only sway the daughter of the Goddess, but make her weep. Warmth and determination flowed into her hands; the Harp assuring her it would do all that it could to aid her. Great Mother, she breathed in silent prayer while her hands sought her Harp strings, help me and pardon me for the injury I am about to do Your child. Though You drove her from Your side, she is still Yours, and so I ask Your forgiveness.
Mournful, aching chords came stealing into existence; the sorrow in them seemed to pierce the very air. The song that Gwynn sang was not one of persuasion or convincing.
She knew that Aere would have prepared herself against something like that. Instead, she sang of a child’s anguish at losing both a mother and a father, of struggling with the realization that never again would the child know the love or tenderness of a parent but must make her way alone through an indifferent and uncaring world. The child’s hurt, despair, and soul searing loneliness were all in Gwynn’s song. She used the pain of her mother’s loss, the disappointment and dashed expectations she suffered when her father did not return to Inishmore when he had promised, and now her grief at finding him in the condition she had. Into that was added the Harp’s own desolation at its separation from Talaysen and the agony of the long years of solitude since.
Together, Gwynn and her Harp, found the weakness in the Aeldive’s hardened heart by singing of the single thing they had in common.
She felt Aere’s tears before she saw them. They burned into her like a bitter winter’s wind. Gwynn ended her song, already knowing that the echoes would sound through the Aeldive’s garden forever. She held the Harp close, thanking it for its help before raising her head to look around.
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The artificial glow of sunlight was gone, replaced by a cold luminescence more akin to fox fire than moonlight while the trees had shed their leaves and stood with bare dead branches. The fountains were silent, birds no longer sang, and the gazebo surrounding them was a stained ruin.
The magic of the garden had vanished.
Aere sat motionless in her chair, tears coursing down her cheeks and dulling her gown’s sheen. Shae was staring at Gwynn in wonder, unheeding the tears rolling down his own face. The only one not touched by the music was Gryffyn; he stood motionless beside Aere, his eyes reflecting only the foxfire around them.
The Aeldive rose, pointing at Gryffyn with a trembling hand. “Take him and be gone! I will have no peace until you can make no more music here. Go now Gwynn ferch Gryffyn, while I will still allow it!” Aere swept her arm down, and they found themselves once more in the mountain meadow under a sinking sun with Gryffyn near them, his harp still in his hands. They stood transfixed for a moment, waiting for the dizziness and shock of their sudden translocation to pass.
Gwynn recovered first, setting her Harp down and throwing her arms around her father in delight, speaking in the language of their homeland. “Da! Rohawyr alëa afalin! We did it Da, she gave you back to me!” Gryffyn did not move and when she spoke again, there was panic in her voice. “He doesn’t answer me.”
“He has been under Aere’s thrall for a long time. I would take oath that such enchantment would not fade in the blink of an eye. I think we should get him safely back to Heralith and ask that question of those wiser than us. See to your father and I will find the horses.”
Rogue and Talon had not wandered far and came trotting up obediently at Shae’s whistle. He led them back to 220
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where Gwynn stood with Gryffyn. He watched while she tried to rouse any response from her father, but Gryffyn’s eyes remained empty.
Finally, Gwynn took Gryffyn’s harp from him and put it away in the case that remained slung across his back. “How in the Mother’s name do we get him on a horse?”
“He did respond to a direct request from Aere.
Direct him to get up on Rogue,” he suggested. “If he does that, we will ride together on Talon and we can lead Rogue back to Heralith.” The sun was nearing the western peaks, and they felt it grow perceptibly colder when a strong wind began to flow through the meadow. “Wait a moment, though. I’m glad our bedrolls are still attached to the saddles.” He pulled his cote from the bedroll and draped it over Talon’s neck. “I don’t know if you can swing up behind me wearing it, so we will leave it there until you get up.”
“What about you?”
“I will be fine; the wind will be behind us and you will block most of it. We should go; it will be the middle of the night before we make it to Heralith.”
The idea of tel ing Gryffyn to do anything seemed unnatural and wrong, but Gwynn tried. “Please, Da,” she pleaded softly in her native speech, “come get on my horse; we must get back to the city.” After a moment, Gryffyn slowly mounted and stared off into the darkening forest.
Shae swung on Talon and took Rogue’s reins from Gwynn, holding them in one hand. The other hand he offered to her and swung her up easily behind him. “Now get that cote on.” She hurriedly obeyed; the wind and the disappointment at her father’s condition once freed had already chil ed her to the bone. Shae gave her Rogue’s reins.
“We will go slowly to keep him steady in the saddle. Tell me if I need to stop.”
“Yes, venchar,” she whispered. They rode into the trees, 221
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Shae somehow managing to find the way back to the road just before the sun lost itself behind the mountains.
Darkness followed quickly while they began the long cold ride.
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Gwynn and Shae spoke little; they were both deeply lost in their own thoughts. She remembered her father with a charming roguish sparkle in his eyes. Seeing him without it was worse than believing he was dead. Gwynn sighed and rested her aching head against Shae’s back, praying that when they returned to Heralith, someone could help them.
Shae’s own mind carried him to dark places. Just what did it mean to be perfect? Was the condition permanent?
How had it affected him? The shift in Gwynn’s weight when she laid her head down brought him out of his reverie. “How are you doing back there?” he asked softly. “You’re not freezing to death, are you?”
“I’m cold and I have a wretched headache, but other than that, I’m well enough. The wind is fierce tonight.”
“I have caught myself wondering if it’s blowing so
hard because we left an upset goddess behind us.” Shae’s tone was pained.
She glanced over her shoulder at her father, hoping to see some change in him. Once more, she was disappointed; Gryffyn’s eyes were still empty. She did feel a rush of appreciation for Rogue though; the gelding was placing each foot like he was balancing a basket of eggs on his back. “Oh Rogue, you are the best of horses. You will have a warm bran mash and as many apples as you want once we get back.”
The gelding pricked his ears at his mistress and gave a low nicker. “Yes, I promise, as many apples as you want.”
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When they were halfway back to Heralith, Talon’s head came up and his ears flicked forward. “There are horses coming toward us.”
“They had better be Pathani horses. I’ve had quite enough of new legends for one day,” Shae growled.
Three golden horses soon appeared over a low hillock. Even in her melancholy state of mind, Gwynn could not help but be entranced by their beauty when they cantered down the white paved road. Their manes and tails seemed to be spun from starlight, and their coats held the luster of the sun. Surely, a place that had such beauty would have wise enough minds to help her father. While they approached, she identified Darion, Gunnar, and Tasarian.
“Shae? Are you and Gwynn well?” Darion called.
“We are, but Gwynn is half frozen.”
“My mother told me she felt strange stirrings in the paths of fitan tonight. She sent us to find you, saying that you might have need of friends. But who do we have here?”
Darion asked when he realized the rider on Rogue was not Gwynn.
“My father, Gryffyn ap Daffyd,” Gwynn said, leaning around Shae. The three Pathani turned incredulous looks on her.
Darion moved Freesa close beside Talon, his face hardening while he regarded her. “Have you grown so strong in magic already that you can lead other mortals to Heralith?
Have a care; this is not well received, and there will be a return upon it.” His voice held a forbidding tone that sent a cold chill through her. Gwynn had the feeling that doing such a thing would be a vast trespass on the good will of her hosts, and the consequences were of a kind that she did not want to imagine.
“No,” she said quickly, before amending her words.
“At least, I didn’t bring him the same way you brought us. I 224
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took him back from the Aeldive.”
“What? That is not possible!” Similar exclamations from Gunnar and Tasarian echoed Darion’s cry of astonishment.
“Gwynn did just as she says. I saw it with my own eyes; doubt my word if you dare!” Shae hissed, his eyes lighting with fury at the idea anyone would accuse her of lying.
“Stirrings along the paths of fitan indeed,” Darion murmured. “Forgive my lack of hospitality; you are welcome to Heralith, father of Gwynn.” Gryffyn did not respond or meet his eyes and he frowned at Gwynn. “What ails him?”
Before she could answer, Shae interjected. “She can tell everything, but not standing here. Gwynn is cold, exhausted, and no doubt as hungry as I am. Listen to her story while we ride. I will have them under a warm roof sooner rather than later.”
“Agreed. Gunnar, give me your flask; we need to warm up our friends.” Gunnar handed him an ornate silver flask, which Darion then passed to Gwynn. “You first, take a drink and then give it to Shae; it will take the chill from your bones and ease your mind. Only a little though; this beverage can sometimes have strange effects on mortals.”
She took a cautious sip from the flask and found it tasted of hot spiced apples with honey. When Gwynn swallowed, the warmth spread through her, followed by a tingling rush of renewed energy and hope that made her headache fade away instantly. She gasped as her eyes lit up.
“That’s uesa beatha! At least that’s what I think it is. I’ve only heard stories about it.”
“Yes, it is uesa beatha.” Darion laughed while she handed the flask to Shae
“Just what is uesa beatha?” He sniffed suspiciously at the flask. The fragrance reminded him of the mulled apple 225
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wine that the Hasdranians drank after a long cold day of hunting.
“I think the nearest translation I can offer is ‘the water of life,” Darion said. “Even we, Pathani, drink it sparingly, so its effects never grow dull. I promise, it will not harm you.” Shae took a generous swig and grinned when he felt the same current of warmth and energy Gwynn had known spread through him. He passed Gunnar’s flask back to him.
“Well, whatever you call it, I like it.”
Tasarian took Rogue’s reins from Gwynn, and Darion offered his hand to her. “Ride with me and tell me of the Aeldive and your father.”
Gwynn hesitated, feeling the cold wind in her hair and remembering what Shae had said about blocking it. Shae caught Gwynn’s hesitation and moved Talon closer to Freesa. “Go on, you’re too small to keep much wind off me anyway. I said it mostly to ease your mind. Whatever small discomfort I felt was cured by the uesa beatha. It will be easier to tell Darion what happened without trying to make yourself heard over the wind and the horses.”
Darion’s initial reaction was shock, but while Gwynn continued her story, something else began to grow in his expression. When she was done, he laughed out loud. “I knew you were special the day your music first drew me to your side. I had no idea that you would prove a worthy adversary to a child of the gods. What do you suppose I will unleash on an unsuspecting Balahar?” Darion asked, mischief giving his yellow eyes a demonic cast. “What tunes shall you make them dance to?”
Gwynn wondered just how much the Pathani enjoyed playing with mortals. Although she had always liked Darion, his words were a little too like the sentiments expressed by the Aeldive. After the day’s experience, she was tired of being 226
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a source of entertainment for immortals. What was worse, those toying with them didn’t seem to care what price their human playthings paid.
It must have been uesa beatha or perhaps the companionship; the remainder of the journey back to the city seemed to pass quickly. The streets were dark and empty while they clattered through town to the palace, but that changed when they passed through the gates. A dozen lights burned brightly, and grooms ran to their horses’ heads.
Navarre and Mariel stood at the top of the stairs, Syrus a few steps behind them.
Shae dismounted and lifted Gwynn from Freesa’s back in the time it took Darion to swing his leg forward over his mount’s neck. She groaned aloud and staggered a few steps while she walked to Rogue’s side. Gwynn’s earlier fal and then the cold ride back had left her stiff and sore.
“Thank you, venchar,” she murmured when Shae wrapped an arm around her shoulders to support her.
When they reached Rogue, Navarre and Mariel were already there, both looking intently at Gryffyn. Gwynn had the feeling that they were using more than just their sense of sight. Finally, Mariel put her hand on his arm and said gently in the language of his homeland, “You are among friends, Gryffyn. Get down from your mount, and we will find a way to lead you home.” Gryffyn dismounted with some of the athletic ease his daughter remembered and Gwynn’s heart found a little more hope. “Go with my steward,” Mariel instructed, placing his hand on Syrus’s arm. “He will see to your needs, and I shall visit with you shortly.”
She watched her father walk slowly up the steps and into the palace before looking at Mariel. “Do you think you can save him? Can you bring the light back to his eyes?”
When Mariel’s glance met hers, Gwynn felt once more that her soul was being weighed. “I believe that he can 227
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be helped, although I don’t think the help will come from us. I have glimpsed some things of your path and his that lead me to believe such a thing to be possible. I have seen other sights that lead me to believe things could go terribly wrong. What I cannot tell you is how either will come
to pass.” Gwynn’s slight body sagged against Shae when disappointment flooded her heart. “Oh, Great Mother, what have I done to him? Would it not have been better to leave him there?” Tears flowed silently down her cheeks, and she was too crushed to care who saw them.
Shae’s grip on Gwynn tightened with reassurance. “If your father is anything like you, I cannot believe that he would have chosen to stay with Aere. Death would be preferable; you did the right thing.”
Mariel lifted Gwynn’s chin and smiled gently. “I think your heart already knows the answer to that question and al the others that fill your mind. Elisan says you have earned the trust of your Harp. I think it will lead you to find depths of strength and reservoirs of knowledge unknown to you.”
“You are very wise, lady, far wiser than a mortal such as me. I pray to our Mother that you are right.” Gwynn drew a deep breath and commanded her tears to stop. Shae’s respect for his friend had never been greater while he watched her compose herself by sheer strength of will.
Although it sounded weary, Gwynn’s voice was determined when she spoke again. “I will find a way to bring him home; I just don’t know where to begin.”
“By seeing to your own needs first.” Shae’s voice was emphatic, and he began to steer Gwynn toward the palace steps. “Once you have eaten and rested, things will seem clearer, and you will have a better idea of how to start.”
She planted herself with remarkable force, resisting his direction. “I must see to my father before myself,” she 228
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insisted. “I want to make sure he is well, and I also promised Rogue a bran mash and apples.”
“Do you doubt the hospitality of Heralith or my lady’s words?” Navarre spoke for the first time, half in jest and half stern. “Gryffyn is well cared for and watched over. My grooms will take care of your mount and provide him with everything he deserves; do not worry. Now, let those that care for you do the same.” He beckoned his son forward. “I think that between Shae and Darion, they will allow you little resistance.”
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