The Seven Songs by T. A. Barron Read Free Book Online Page A

Merlin.”
    I stiffened. “How do you know that?”
    “I don’t know things,” breathed Aylah. “I feel them. And I feel your anger even now.”
    I strode faster, eager to leave this meadow behind. The darkened blades of grass jabbed at my boots like thousands of thorns.
    “Why are you so angry, Emrys Merlin?”
    Having moved beyond the darkened patch of grass, I stopped. I drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, “I don’t really know.”
    Aylah’s airy form encircled me, filling my nostrils with the scent of cinnamon. “Could it be you are missing someone?”
    I squeezed the shaft of my staff. “I am missing no one.”
    “Not even your mother?”
    My knees nearly buckled, but I said nothing.
    The wind sister swirled about me. “I never met her, Emrys Merlin, though I know many who did. She must have been a good friend.”
    I blinked the dew from my sightless eyes. “Yes. She was my good friend. Maybe my only friend.”
    Aylah’s warm breath touched my cheek. “Tell me about her, would you please? I would like to hear.”
    Twisting my staff in the dry, rust-colored grass, I started walking again. “She loved the night sky, with all its stars and dreams and mysteries. She loved stories about ancient places like Olympus and Apollo’s Isle of Delos. She loved green, growing things, and all the creatures who soar or shamble or swim. And she loved me.”
    Although her spinning slowed, Aylah seemed closer to me than ever. Her winds embraced me.
    “You’re right,” I admitted. “I do miss her. More than I ever believed possible.” Haltingly, I took a breath. “If only I could be with her again, Aylah! Even for just an hour.”
    “I understand. Ahhh yes, I do.”
    It occurred to me that Aylah, despite her airy form, shared some qualities with my mother. She was warm, she was caring. And she did not try to give me advice.
    Just then I noticed, not far ahead, a patch of low bushes with bluish bark and broad leaves. I knew from watching Rhia that they made good eating. Setting down the Flowering Harp and my staff, I went to the bushes and pulled up one by the roots, revealing a thick, blue tuber. After cleaning its skin with my tunic, I bit into the tangy flesh.
    “Can I share this meal with you, somehow? I don’t know what you eat, but whatever it is, I could try to find some for you.”
    The broad leaves of the bush fluttered as Aylah passed over them. “I eat only the faraway fragrances of lands I have not yet explored. I am made to wander, you see.” Gently, she tousled my hair. “And now, I am afraid, it is time for us to part.”
    I stopped chewing. “Part? Why?”
    The airy voice spoke into my ear. “Because I am the wind, Emrys Merlin, and I must fly. Always soaring, always circling, that is my way. I have many places to see, on Fincayra and the other worlds as well.” For a moment, she seemed to hover near the Harp. “And you must fly, as well. For you still have work to do in the Dark Hills.”
    I frowned. “You too, Aylah? I thought at least you wouldn’t try to tell me what to do.”
    “I am not telling you what to do, Emrys Merlin. I am only telling you that the winds bring tidings of disturbing things, evil things, in the Dark Hills. Rhita Gawr’s allies are beginning to stir again. They grow bolder by the day. Before long the goblins will emerge from their caves, and with them the shifting wraiths. Then it will be too late for you to heal the lands.”
    My stomach knotted at her words. I recalled Cairpré’s warning as he gave me the Harp. The Dark Hills must be healed before Rhita Gawr returns, or we will have lost our only chance. Remember: If you shirk your task, you will never be forgiven.
    I surveyed the ridges on the horizon. Shadows of clouds stalked them. “If what you say is true, I must go back now. Won’t you come with me? So we can travel together a while longer?”
    “I have already stayed with you, Emrys Merlin, longer than I have ever been with a person who did not