Song Magick

By Elisabeth Hamill

In a realm where true magic has been lost for centuries, seventeen-year-old bard Telyn Songmaker’s powers are unprecedented – and unpredictable. Able to control the actions and emotions of others with her melodic enchantments, the violent aftermath of an accidental spell has left Telyn exiled from the King’s court - unaware of the price on her head.

When Telyn is outnumbered by assassins in the Wood, Mithrais comes to her aid, dispatched to protect her by dying sylvan gods who need her unique magical gifts to free them from an ancient and deadly spell. Bound to the Wood by blood and by oath, Mithrais is more than the mere soldier he seems, and he and Telyn discover that they share a rare empathic bond of heart and mind.

The Fates have plans for Telyn and Mithrais, but what is brewing will further endanger their lives. If they succeed, magic will return to the realm, but love may be the most unpredictable magic of all...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
• Release date: Apr 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781612358680

Elisabeth Hamill

Elisabeth Hamill is a nurse/wife/mom by day, unabashed geek/chocoholic/closet fantasy novelist by night. She lives with her family, dog, and cat in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.On a more serious note, this is the fufillment of Elisabeth's lifelong dream to be an author. She is a cancer survivor, and wrote a large portion of her book, "Song Magick", during her cancer treatment and recuperation. She is enjoying good health and is deeply embroiled in her next project, an urban fantasy.

Book preview

SONG MAGICK

by Elisabeth Hamill

In a realm where true magic has been lost for centuries, seventeen-year-old bard Telyn Songmaker’s powers are unprecedented – and unpredictable. Able to control the actions and emotions of others with her melodic enchantments, the violent aftermath of an accidental spell has left Telyn exiled from the King’s court - unaware of the price on her head.

When Telyn is outnumbered by assassins in the Wood, Mithrais comes to her aid, dispatched to protect her by dying sylvan gods who need her unique magical gifts to free them from an ancient and deadly spell. Bound to the Wood by blood and by oath, Mithrais is more than the mere soldier he seems, and he and Telyn discover that they share a rare empathic bond of heart and mind.

The Fates have plans for Telyn and Mithrais, but what is brewing will further endanger their lives. If they succeed, magic will return to the realm, but love may be the most unpredictable magic of all...

Table of Contents

Song Magick

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

List of Characters

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Preview of book 2,‘Truthsong’

Previews

Chapter One

The evening began on a melancholy note, a song of exile on her lips. Because there was no one listening who could be inadvertently influenced by her lamentation, Telyn made no effort to suppress the building spell.

It was just as well that she was not playing for her supper tonight—a room full of sobbing patrons would have upset the tavern keepers, and left her purse lighter than the bard might have hoped. She allowed the bittersweet tendrils of her song magic to flow across the small clearing and wind around the long shadows that rose into the stars on either side of the deserted forest road.

The graceful syllables of the old language, nearly forgotten to all but bards and scholars, seemed to elicit a mournful counterpoint in the sighing of the wind through the branches. Springtime breezes were ebbing after the sunset, but something else rode the wind in the darkness: a low, throbbing pulse, like a distant drum.

The odd sensation broke upon her skin and raised the hair on the back of the bard’s neck. Telyn’s fingers faltered on the strings of her harp, and she stilled the resulting discord with a touch. She listened intently, her sorrow displaced.

This strange, soundless percussion had been with her since the road had entered the southwestern fringes of the Wood earlier in the day. In the absence of sunlight, Telyn now found herself reflecting on half-remembered tales of vengeful phantoms and haunted groves, where the trees would cry aloud in warning. These were stories best suited to chill autumn nights when the veil between worlds was thin, and not to early spring nights such as this. Cautionary tales, they spoke of those who had dared to enter the forbidding Wood with evil deeds against their souls, and never made it out of the trees, meeting judgment at the hands of merciless spirits.

Telyn hoped that the stain on her own soul would fade in time, and she could not suppress a shiver in response to the faint echo of that strange vibration in the air. It had been a year ago...just a single turn of the wheel, but the twin burdens of shame and sadness were still heavy in her heart.

A snort from the grey horse tethered to the wheel of her small wagon distracted the bard from her reverie. Her faithful companion in exile, Bessa, was uncannily astute about two-legged affairs, and knew the bard as well as any person might. In spite of her low mood, Telyn grinned at the mare’s reproachful look and dashed an impatient hand over her damp eyes. She was almost eighteen, and no longer a child. It was foolish to weep over things she could not change.

You’re right, Bessa, she said aloud. It’s much too beautiful a night to be counting my regrets.

Telyn placed the harp carefully into the waxed leather case that protected it from harm. The horse turned its attention to the bag of oats sitting beside the wagon and nuzzled it with hopeful interest. Slapping the mare’s withers affectionately as she passed, the bard lifted the lid of the weatherproofed wooden box built beneath the seat of the wagon, which housed her precious instruments.

Beneath the folded winter cloaks and extra blankets that cushioned her pipes, bodhran, and smaller flutes, the less aesthetic relics of her training in the service of the Sildan King glinted dully in the firelight. It was highly unlikely she would need one of the weapons tonight. The tree-shrouded paths, haunted groves included, were far safer than the streets of the King’s own city due to the fierce reputation of the Tauron Order: elite Wood-born soldiers who patrolled the main roads crisscrossing the edges of the Wood. She suspected that at least some of the stories of ghostly vengeance learned at Emrys Harpmaster’s knee during her apprenticeship were due to the Tauron’s legendary skill.

But Telyn paused over the blades, drawing out a sheathed dagger. Her jaw set as she slid the weapon from its sheath. A dagger had saved her once, but the cost had been very high. The bard snapped the blade back into its scabbard before the threatening memories could fully surface and replaced it in the box beside the sword. She lifted the leather harp case and stowed it carefully as well before shutting the lid.

Bessa butted her head against Telyn’s thigh impatiently, and the bard grinned, making a determined effort to set this unwelcome melancholy aside. She poured a measure of oats on the new grass, and as the horse began to munch contentedly, Telyn scratched Bessa behind the ears and whispered, Make sure you earn those oats and warn me if anything unfriendly comes our way, my girl.

Turning back toward the fire, she froze.

A hooded figure stood on the other side of the flames.

Telyn crouched instinctively, her wild thoughts returning to phantoms for a fleeting moment. Her eyes slightly dazzled by the firelight, she could make out the curve of a bow rising behind the shoulder in a back sheath, but could not see if the figure was more immediately armed.

The individual quickly held empty hands toward her, palms up, in a gesture of peace. The voice that issued from the shadows of the deep hood was male, and apologetic. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.

As her eyes readjusted to the firelight, the bard recognized the unusual, deeply hooded cloak and forest-green garb, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

To what do I owe the presence of the Tauron? Telyn smiled cautiously at the cloaked figure, recovering her composure.

I caught the scent of your fire. When I came to investigate, I heard your song. Its sadness drew me here. The warden paused as Telyn grimaced, blushing. I didn’t mean to intrude.

No, you aren’t intruding. I’m simply embarrassed that there was a witness to my self-pity, Telyn admitted guiltily. I had just been thinking that I was lucky not to have an audience, and lo! Here you are! She laughed, and added, I hope that there isn’t an entire squadron of wardens sobbing out there in the Wood.

She was rewarded with a low chuckle from the depths of the hood. My comrade isn’t far away, but too far to feel the effects of your music, I think.

Then he’s fortunate. The bard shook her head in self-deprecation. I owe you amends for subjecting you to that. Are you thirsty? I have a small amount of some rather good wine, or fresh water.

Water would be most appreciated, the warden agreed, entering the circle of firelight as Telyn reached into the floorboard of the canvas-covered wagon to produce a crockery jug. He thanked her and hefted the container, drinking deeply, his face still hidden in the shadows of his hood.

You were singing in the old language, he remarked, corking the jug and returning it to her. "I didn’t know bards still spoke it. One rarely hears it any longer, even in the Wood. L’nathair a ta. My name is Mithrais. I’m Westwarden of the Tauron."

"L’nathair ta, Mithrais, Telyn responded to the archaic greeting with a delighted smile. Telyn Songmaker. She bowed theatrically as she returned the jug to the wagon. I studied at the court of the Sildan King for the last three years, mastering my art, but I’ve been learning the language since I was a child. My tutors were very thorough."

You must have studied with the Royal Bard, then. Is Taliesin truly as arrogant as I’ve heard? Mithrais asked, innocently sending an arrow home to her core.

Telyn forced herself to smile, and answered in a falsely bright tone, Worse, I daresay. Cocking her head, she phrased her next question with careful levity. I mean no offense, Mithrais, but I know that the Tauron pride themselves on their stealth and concealment in the Wood. Is it the custom to remain hidden at all times?

He said with amused embarrassment as he lowered the deep hood, I’m sorry. Please understand that it’s been months since I’ve been in anyone’s company but my fellow wardens.

Telyn found herself staring. The eyes that turned to her were rendered a luminous, wolf-like green by the firelight, rimmed in dark lashes. His dark hair was caught at the nape of his neck with a silver clasp and pulled loosely back to reveal slightly pointed ears. Both physical traits unmistakably revealed a heritage that was more than human. The reclusive inhabitants of the Wood were directly descended from the fair folk, sharing a common bloodline with the Sildan royal family. In Belthil, the capitol city, the telltale features and greater stamina of the once-powerful mystical race had all but been bred out. Telyn had met few of the Wood-born, in whom the attributes of their ancestors were still strong and prominent.

Is your destination outside the western Wood? Mithrais asked her. Telyn blinked, startled out of her fascination, and answered him.

Yes. I’m traveling to Rothvori.

Rothvori is three weeks journey from Belthil. What brings you so far from home?

Telyn flinched inwardly. He had wounded her again without knowing he did so, but it was she who had opened the door to sorrow with the strings of her harp. I’ve come to perform at the invitation of Lord Riordan. As for home, there it lies. She indicated the wagon with a nod.

Mithrais, glancing pointedly at the intricate tattoo that circled her wrist, seemed unconvinced. You wear the crest of the Sildan King. Doesn’t that mean you’re honor-bound to the royal household?

I always shall be, however, King Amorion has allowed me to travel where I wish. Telyn forestalled the next inevitable question with one of her own. How is it that you know so much about court?

Mithrais stiffened a little, and he grimaced. My own instruction was very thorough. He declined to elaborate, but Telyn’s curiosity was piqued by the silence that followed.

I’m sorry to have disturbed you, the Westwarden finally said. Be watchful, Lady Bard—there are many on the road tonight due to the spring celebrations, and few Tauron here in the western Wood. We try to keep our eyes and ears open, but we can’t be everywhere at once.

I can take care of myself. Besides, I have Bessa. Telyn nodded toward the mare, which raised her head at the mention of her name, snorted, and went back to searching the grass for any missed grain. She’ll warn me if anyone is about.

She didn’t warn you of my approach. The warden was dubious.

But you weren’t a threat to me, were you?

No. Mithrais appeared to be considering something, but said only, Good night then, Lady Bard.

She watched Mithrais disappear into the forest, a silent apparition among the darker trunks of the trees, until she could no longer see him. She let out her breath in a long sigh, and Bessa whickered gently.

Oh, yes, I agree, Telyn told her. Most interesting. I told you the Wood would be lovely this time of year.

She returned to the ring of stones and raked the coals of the fire in preparation to turn in for the night. It would be an early start for her on the morrow if she were to reach Lord Riordan’s keep by midday, where the May Eve festivities would be in high swing.

She reflected on the warning the Tauron Westwarden had given her and opened the box beneath the wagon seat once more, locating the familiar hilt of her sword by touch. Placing it within easy reach beside the pallet that was her bed, Telyn settled into the nest of blankets. It was probably best to be prepared, but of all the ways the night could end, Telyn least expected the Fates to choose for her a song of battle.

Chapter Two

Beset by strange dreams which troubled her sleep, Telyn instantly awakened to Bessa’s nervous stamping and high-pitched squeals. She had learned from experience not to ignore the animal’s restlessness, and quickly untangling herself from the nest of blankets, pulled on her boots and made calm, silent preparations for her defense.

The bard stood with her back to the wagon, blade sheathed but in hand, quieting the nervous mare with a comforting touch. She heard rustling in the brush to her left. Consequently, it came as no surprise when a figure crashed clumsily out of the undergrowth into the clearing.

Nor was it entirely unexpected to see a second man coming out of the trees on her right. Silently blessing the waxing moon, which had finally risen above the treetops and lit the clearing with a bright, silver-blue cast, Telyn drew the sword out of the leather. She did not discard the sheath, but held on to it, counting the scabbard as a second weapon.

Now, lass, don’t be so difficult, one of the men said.

We’re only messengers, the other added, his voice quavering.

A message delivered in the middle of the night could not be good news, Telyn said amiably. Please don’t come any closer.

Her request was predictably ignored. The men were in no hurry, wary of her sword and staying just out of range.

A lady traveling alone should be glad of company. The first man’s voice held the suggestion of a smirk.

I prefer to be alone, if you don’t mind. Telyn still stood where she had begun, relaxed and confident, her sword and scabbard held loosely at either side.

The ruffian on her right finally succumbed to impatience and lunged. She swung the scabbard, striking him across the face and sending the man reeling, cursing and holding his bloody nose. The other one came at her in a low, hesitant crouch. She sidestepped him easily and dealt a solid blow to the head with the flat of her blade. The man groaned and rolled on the ground, holding his head. The other daubed the blood on his face.

You’ll pay for that, he swore at her, taking a threatening step closer. Telyn brought up the sword in warning, its point level with the man’s chest.

What is your message? she demanded.

"I am the message." A third man stepped out from behind a tree directly in front of her, moving with the lazy grace of a trained swordsman, blade drawn and gleaming in the moonlight.

Do I know you? Telyn moved diagonally, trying to keep all three men in her line of vision and praying silently to whatever deity might be listening that there weren’t more out there.

You know our benefactor, Lady Bard. The swordsman’s thin smile was clearly visible in the pale light. The Lord of the East requires that you compose a lament for his son, whom you murdered. The smile became wider. You shall perform this lament personally in the realm of the dead—and it is my agreed-upon duty to deliver you there.

Long-practiced disciplines allowed Telyn to suppress the fear that began to claw its way to the surface, and the bard fought to keep her voice dispassionately calm as she faced the hired blade.

I was defending myself against his son, who attacked me, Telyn said softly. His death was not intended. If your ‘benefactor’ thinks that I don’t regret what happened, he’s gravely mistaken.

Perhaps so, but for the amount he has promised me, I can’t afford to come back empty-handed. Eyes glinted in the pale light, and Telyn could read the eagerness for battle evident in the lines of the assassin’s body. You can express your regrets to the boy face-to-face, when you see him tonight.

He struck, lightning quick, and Telyn parried, ducking beneath his slashing blade and returning with her own offensive. Telyn had always counted on her smaller size and agility to be an advantage when training with the King’s soldiers, but this man was compact and wiry, and no taller than she. A tailor-made assassin, she thought with gallows humor as they circled each other.

She took the offensive once more, attacking with both sword and scabbard. He blocked her blows expertly, knocking the scabbard out of her left hand and sending it spinning into the trees. He was good, but she had learned something valuable: the darkness was as much a disability to him as it was to her. A Wood-born Silde might have had her blade as well by now.

Bessa was on the offensive, nipping and lashing out with her hind feet whenever one of the men came too close to her. The mare’s indignant squeals pierced the silent Wood. The hired muscle was uncertain in this environment, holding back from the flashing blades wielded by their cohort and the bard. The one whose nose Telyn had bloodied grabbed for her clumsily as she avoided the swordsman’s downward strike. She wasn’t feeling merciful this time, and dealt him a shallow slash across the midriff with her blade, hearing him scream with pain and fury as she narrowly evaded the assassin again.

The third man stayed warily out of reach, but paced her movements so that he was a consistent distraction. As another flurry of blows were blocked and returned, the swordsman hissed through gritted teeth, Ban, get in here, you coward!

The bard lost sight of the man as she was forced to deal with a new onslaught from the blade of her opponent. Unexpectedly, a pair of hands wrapped themselves about her ankles and tripped her as she began another offensive, sending Telyn sprawling in the new grass and knocking her sword from her grasp. She kicked viciously at the man holding her legs, trying to reach for her weapon.

The man she had bloodied threw himself upon her. His weight drove the breath from Telyn, and suddenly, the unwelcome memories which had been threatening all night flooded in with blinding panic. The bard lashed out with fists and nails, drawing blood again as the man cursed her. Then the swordsman was there, the point of his blade at her throat.

Our benefactor told us not to underestimate your skills, the swordsman panted. Hold her down. He wants her hand as a token.

Telyn screamed then, struggling beneath her captor, but the man was already stretching out her arm—the one with the honor marks—and she realized with horror what was about to happen. The swordsman straightened and raised his blade. Telyn squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away, and breathing a final prayer to the Fates.

There was a faint hissing sound, and the blow never came.

Telyn opened her eyes to see the swordsman silhouetted against the nighttime sky, swaying, and then toppling in slow motion to the ground. The feathered shaft of an arrow protruded from his neck.

The Tauron! The man holding her down jumped to his feet, but was cut down in mid-motion by an arrow that struck him in the center of his chest.

The man at her feet gibbered in fear, looking around wildly, and Telyn took the opportunity to free her legs and drive the heel of her boot into his face. He fell backwards, then scrambled to his feet and ran for the moon-silvered road, the sound of his panicked flight fading into silence.

The stars above her wheeled dizzily as Telyn struggled to rise, but her shock-numbed body refused to obey her. Running footsteps passed through the campsite, and then Mithrais, Westwarden of the Tauron, was suddenly beside her, sheathing his bow.

Lady Bard? Lie still—you’re covered in blood. Where are you injured?

Telyn pushed his hands away convulsively as they began to probe for wounds, still in defensive mode, her breath ragged.

Easy, the warden murmured soothingly. You’re safe now. He sat back, waiting.

It isn’t my blood, she was able to say after a moment.

What were they after?

Me. They were sent to kill me. They were going to take my hand back as proof...oh, gods! Telyn lurched to her feet and away as the reality of how close she had come to dying hit home. She leaned against a tree and retched, shock and horror taking its physical toll.

The Westwarden gave her privacy, grimly searching the bodies in the clearing and rebuilding the fire. The bard stumbled down to the bank of the stream bordering the rear of the campsite and cupped the icy water in her hands, welcoming the cold bite of the liquid on her flushed cheeks. She drank to clear her mouth of the foul taste of sickness, and returned reluctantly to the scene.

Telyn stopped to hug Bessa’s neck, whispering her thanks. The horse blew softly through its lips and nuzzled her bloody tunic, which Telyn examined with disgust and began to unlace it hurriedly.

The warden was waiting for her. Do you know any of them? he asked quietly.

I don’t think so. I’ll look in a moment. She dropped the blood-stained tunic on the ground, standing in her sleeveless shift and leggings and shivering in the dew-wet chill until her numb, groping fingers found another garment in the wagon. Telyn shrugged into it, belting the thick wool quickly, and joining Mithrais where he knelt beside the body of the swordsman. The firelight flickered in the half-open, staring eyes of the dead man, and she looked away, shuddering slightly.

No. I’ve never seen him before.

What about him? Mithrais indicated the other dead man. Telyn was about to shake her head, but stopped and stared, moving closer.

I have seen this man before. I stayed at Osland Manor during the winter months, and instructed the lord’s children in music in exchange for a bed and stable rights. I’m certain that he was there. Fear flickered on her face. How long have they been following me, I wonder?

We can ask this one. He’s still alive.

Telyn’s breath stopped for a moment as a new voice came unexpectedly from the trees surrounding the campsite, but Mithrais, unsurprised, merely nodded to the figure that had appeared out of the darkness. Over his shoulder, the new arrival was carrying a limp body which he dumped unceremoniously beside the fire. Flame-red hair in a thick braid glinted brightly against a Tauron green jerkin, and the broad, expressive face below that crimson thatch was disgusted, amber eyes flashing in the light.

I stepped out into the road in front of him, and the coward fainted, the warden snorted derisively.

They called him Ban, Telyn remembered, approaching cautiously as the supine figure groaned and rolled his head fitfully.

He is also a stranger? Mithrais queried, and Telyn affirmed this with a nod. Bind him, Aric. I don’t wish to have to kill him before he answers our questions.

Aric completed his work without comment, and prodded the man with the toe of his boot when he finished. You can stop pretending now, he told the man casually. I know you’re awake.

Their prisoner opened fearful eyes, and Telyn stalked over to stand above him contemptuously.

How long have you been looking for me? she demanded softly. The man tightened his lips stubbornly, but his wide eyes kept flicking to Mithrais, who sat on his heels by the fire and watched the captive with unnerving stillness, and to Aric, who stood with his arms crossed a few feet away.

Those bloody wardens will kill me either way, won’t they? the man finally spat, defiance mixed with terror. I won’t tell you anything unless you promise to let me go.

By the code of the Tauron, I should have killed you already, was Aric’s cold reply, and Mithrais silenced him with a gesture.

I’ve had enough of death for one night. Telyn knelt beside the man. But I have a keen interest in continuing to live, myself. How do I know you won’t try to kill me again? There must be a fine price on my head—or my hand, as it happens. She stared unhappily at the honor marks on her wrist a moment, then back at the bound man. Obviously, it’s tempting enough to make greedy men risk the Tauron’s arrows.

There isn’t enough gold to get me into the Wood again, the man said fervently. I just hired on a few days ago. They knew you’d be coming this way. Said that they wanted you dead before you got to the town.

‘They’—do you mean them? Telyn indicated the dead men.

Yes. One look at the still bodies was enough, and the man babbled, Faine, the one with the sword—he said that he and Rolf were hired in Belthil, but they had been trying to find you for months. They finally split up to look, and Rolf heard you were at Osland over the winter. By the time Faine got there, you were already gone, but Rolf knew where you were headed for the spring fires. Faine said we were lucky to find you first.

First? Mithrais said sharply, and Telyn went cold with the implications of the word. There are more looking for her? How many?

I don’t know. I swear I don’t know. The man licked sweat off his upper lip, his eyes never leaving Mithrais, who stood and exchanged a wordless glance with Aric. The warden nodded, raising the deep hood over his flame-bright hair, and slipped into the trees to vanish without a sound.

Do they know where I will be? Telyn pressed.

I don’t know, the man repeated. Faine was close-mouthed. Didn’t want anybody else horning in on his kill. He began to struggle in panic. I told you all I know! You have to let me go. I swear I won’t come after you again. Please don’t let him kill me!

Telyn stood and walked away from the man even as he continued to plead with her and struggle against his bonds. She stood at the edge of the clearing, her arms wrapped around herself. Mithrais watched her for a moment, and then silenced the man with a look before he joined Telyn.

What shall I do with him? Mithrais asked her gently.

He’s a cowardly little toad. I believe that he’ll just run. Telyn’s voice was flat. Let him go.

Mithrais nodded and returned to the captive, who stared at him with wide, glazed eyes. He whimpered when Mithrais drew a slender dagger from his belt. The Tauron warden knelt beside him, holding the man’s gaze with his eerily wolfish eyes.

Remember that you owe her your life. The man went limp with relief, but gasped as the point of Mithrais’ knife kissed the pulse at the side of his neck, and the warden leaned in to whisper: "You have until dawn to be outside the trees. If you ever set one foot inside the Wood again, we will know. We will find you. Do you understand?"

The man nodded fearfully. Mithrais withdrew the dagger from his throat, and the man jumped as ropes parted at his wrists and ankles. He leaped up, babbling his thanks, and Telyn watched him flee in the direction opposite the one Aric had gone. He kept looking back nervously as if he expected Mithrais to loose an arrow into his back. Telyn thought bitterly that she might not stop the warden had he decided to do it.

I will have some explaining to do when Aric returns. Mithrais stood behind her again. You showed him more mercy than he deserves.

I know.

Lady Bard, I must ask you something. She turned to face him, and his pale eyes were compelling, his expression grave.

You say you haven’t been at court for some time, when your honor marks declare you bound to the royal household. You’re very young to be traveling alone, although I see you’re quite capable of protecting yourself. But why are you so many leagues from Belthil? He paused. And why would it give motive to a hired blade to track you for the better part of a year?

Telyn hugged herself tightly, despair crushing her spirit. The details of the night that had changed her life forever haunted her dreams more often than she cared to admit, and tonight’s events had brought them far too close. She felt the warden’s eyes upon her as he waited for her to speak, but could not look at him. She chose to answer him honestly.

You know that true bards can affect the emotions of others with their song magic, as you felt earlier, but my gift is...different. It’s stronger. It’s more unpredictable in its effects. I played for the court at the spring rites last year, for the first time since I came of age. Afterwards, I was alone in the music room putting away my instruments, and I heard someone enter. It was one of the young lords. He was drunk, and he said my song magic had...inflamed him. When I refused him, he struck me and forced himself on me. I fought back, and in the struggle, I wounded him gravely with his own dagger. She lifted haunted eyes to meet his at last. I killed him.

Mithrais stared at her, and Telyn turned away from the horror in his expression, unable to bear it—but it was not for the reason Telyn feared.

Surely you were not dismissed for defending yourself against a rapist, he said quietly. Magic or not, there are offenses which cannot be excused. I can’t imagine the King would have ignored this.

The King truly had no other choice than to send me away, she told him. The boy’s father is a very powerful lord, and he demanded vengeance. King Amorion forbade it, but he knew I was no longer safe in Belthil. I left that night.

Did no one defend you? Mithrais’ voice held outrage.

Here at last was the crux of the matter that had so wounded her. Taliesin couldn’t even bring himself to speak to me until I came to say farewell. Tears finally overflowed to trace slow tracks down her face, and she wiped them away impatiently. He told me that I had brought about the end of our family’s honor with my carelessness. I didn’t stay to hear more.

Your family? Mithrais asked carefully, and she nodded.

The Royal Bard is my father. Telyn saw his eyes widen. The title would have passed to me in time, but no longer.

Mithrais joined her at the edge of the circle where firelight and darkness merged. What will you do now?

Go to Rothvori. That hasn’t changed. I refuse to live in fear. Telyn turned and managed a smile in spite of the chill in her heart. Thank you, Mithrais. You saved my life tonight. I don’t understand how you knew to come back at just the right moment.

He paused a moment before answering, I am only grateful that we were still near enough to aid you.

A yawn shook her involuntarily, and Telyn swayed. Mithrais steadied her with warm hands on her shoulders. She stiffened a moment, but the panic did not come; there was only a strange comfort in his touch, soothing and somehow familiar.

"Sleep now. You’re exhausted. Aric is conducting a reconnaissance to make certain no others

Reviews for Song Magick

[thebookjunkiereads-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Telyn’s gift of song and music has an affect that was not precedent. She could control action and emotions of those that are within the sound of her voice. With this said and done in the vicinity of the king’s court she becomes and exile in the land and in danger in other was from others. Fate intervenes and sends a protector, Mithrais. The two find that keeping her alive was a common goal but there was another that was deeper than a goal and stronger than a bond. Magic has been brought back to the world via the talents of Telyn. Along with the good, evil finds its way back also. This first book of the series was a magic fantasy historical young adult journey that brings about a gift to evoke powerful emotions and long lasting actions. The world created here was vivid and drawing. I could feel myself being immersed in each new scenery. I was thrilled with this fantasy fast pace adventure. Telyn was a girl with unique abilities and with a very important task. You could feel the steps she made to get to where she was going. Danger lay en route to her destination and death could await her there. I found myself wrapped in the turning of each new page to get more details to further entwine myself.I have me a ya author to keep on my radar and look for more good things from.