The Resonance of Crystals
E stral sang the song of the guardians. It was song without words that captured the harmony and rhythm that had pulsed through the wall for centuries. Music was the magic that bound the wall and had made it strong. All those guardians singing as one.
When first they discovered the guardians liked her singing, they also found it healed some of the cracks in the wall near the breach, and that was why Grandmother and Lala had stolen her voice and musical ability—to prevent her from fixing the wall.
She poured strength and energy and love into her voice, all her longing for Alton to be returned to her, and her hope for the future of the life she bore within, how her child would grow and prosper.
The guardians thrummed with excitement and they joined in with her.
The vibration of their voices tingled within her from her toes to the roots of her hair.
After a time, her voice cracked, and mindful of what Mender Kane had told her, she paused and stepped back, thinking it wise to rest her voice.
She was surprised to find a group watching her, including the lieutenant and Rider Copperhaven, who looked wan but definitely conscious.
“Your voice pulled me from the darkness,” Peri said.
“You are straining your vocal cords,” Mender Kane warned, his expression serious. He handed her a cup of tea sweetened with honey, which she accepted gratefully.
“Did you learn anything?” the lieutenant asked.
“Just that the guardians like the singing,” Duncan said. “They gave us no information, however, and they still won’t let me in.”
“I think we all liked the singing,” a soldier said, and the others nodded and murmured in agreement.
A flickering on the wall caught Estral’s attention. Glyphs of ancient Sacoridian appeared with a silvery glow.
“What does it say?” the lieutenant asked.
Estral could read the old script, but not quickly.
Duncan gave it a mere glance and said, “The guardians want more.”
“She must rest her voice,” Mender Kane said, “or she won’t be able to sing at all. Perhaps you could try more gently?”
She nodded.
“Everyone back to your posts,” the lieutenant said. Reluctantly the onlookers dispersed. “It’s clear you are the only hope of reaching Lords Alton and Marc,” he told Estral. “We’ll keep watch to make sure nothing untoward happens while you work.” With that, he trudged off.
Pleased that she now had explicit permission to work with the wall, she turned to Duncan. “I am going to try something different.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“That piece of music from the Silverwood book, the notes my ancestor Gerlrand Fiori wrote down. I never found the answering notes, but let’s see what happens.”
She placed her hands against the wall once more and leaned into it. She could sense the anticipation of the guardians, but it took her a while to remember the notes and modulate her voice to a comfortable level. She ran through the melody as written a few times before giving herself over to it.
This time she did not exert her voice, and found it was not necessary, anyway.
She ran through the melody several times, and then improvised by adding complementary harmonies.
Some were an attempt to answer the original questioning notes, some headed off on a flight of fancy.
She did not force it, and she always came back to the original.
The thrill of the guardians buzzed against her hands and through her bones.
As she sang, she pictured the setting sun, the wind among the branches of trees in the woods.
She thought of homey things, a cup of tea, a good book, and her cat, Timbre, sprawled across her lap.
Again she drew on her love for Alton and the child that was theirs.
Vaguely she was aware of Duncan trying to catch her attention, but it was like she could not stop. She had to keep giving. If she was to see Alton again, she must give all. She would give the whole of her voice to have him back safely for her sake, and for that of their child.
“My lady!” Duncan shrieked into her ear.
Too late she realized her hands were sinking into the wall and she could not pull them out. The stone grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her in.
“W hat’s happening?” Marc asked.
The singing resonated among all the crystals and the Voice of Voices had vanished. The guardians were rapturous.
“It’s Estral,” Alton replied in wonder. Joy built in his chest. Her song surrounded him in waves of beauty and love. Yes, it was the usual song of the guardians, but with the crystals layering in harmonic tones, it was elevated to something even greater.
“I thought her voice didn’t work,” Marc said.
“I don’t know how it’s happened,” Alton replied, “but it is her.”
The guardians, he realized, had begun singing with her, infusing more harmony into the song, and it eased the pressure against his magical shield over the wounded part of the wall.
He touched the area with his mind and was amazed to feel the cracks starting to reseal themselves, and the wall protecting itself from the hammer blows of Mornhavon’s servants.
“It’s Estral,” he murmured again and again. He thought his chest would burst it was so full of love and joy. He no longer had to maintain his shield and he released it with relief.
When the singing paused, the anticipation of the guardians was palpable, a hum that vibrated through his trapped body, removed from it though he was.
When she began singing again, the guardians joined right in.
It was not the usual song, but the questioning notes written by her ancestor so long ago.
She went through those notes a few times and then began singing variations that dove into whole new melodies. A thrill shivered through the wall.
The Voice of Voices reappeared. “We have been given a great gift of healing today, but we still require sacrifice.”
“No!” Alton cried, thinking they were going to take Marc, but the next thing he knew, the wall spat him out and he rolled onto the ground. He immediately jumped to his feet and pounded on stone. “You can’t have him! You can’t have him—take me!”
The guardians did not respond, and though he pressed his hands against stone, they would not absorb him.
“You can’t—”
The wall disgorged Marc, who hit the ground with a grunt.
“Marc!” Alton grabbed him even as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. “Are you all right?”
“I guess.”
“Thank the gods, thank the gods.” He held Marc in a rough embrace.
“Lemme go,” Marc protested. “I can’t breathe.”
Alton almost wilted in relief and released his brother. “I thought they were going to sacrifice you.” Then he became angry. “You young idiot. I told you not to—”
“Love you, too.” Marc patted dust off his knees, then pointed to a group behind Alton trying to get his attention.
“My lord,” Lieutenant Janes said. “Are you—”
“We’re fine,” Alton replied. “Both of us.” His words, however, did little to ease the concern on their faces.
“What is it?” He looked around at those who stood there—Lieutenant Janes, Duncan, Peri, Mender Kane, and a few others.
“Where’s Estral?” he asked. When they did not answer immediately, he demanded, “Where’s Estral? ”
Duncan stepped forward and, without expression, said, “In the wall.”
Alton’s howl of anguish bounced off the wall and back into the encampment, carried into the woods, and seemingly beyond.
· · ·
Alton refused to leave the wall, and no one made him. Night had fallen and he would not touch food or drink. He banged his fists on the wall with a fury he had not felt in years, and alternately leaned against it, beseeching the guardians to take him instead.
Nothing. They gave him nothing.
Duncan stood nearby, shaking his head.
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Alton asked him yet again.
“They will not talk to me.”
Alton clenched his bruised and bleeding hands to bang on the wall again when, just like that, Estral stepped through stone. It took a moment of astonishment before he pulled her into his arms, hugging and kissing her.
She took his hand. “You’ve been hurting yourself.”
He smiled sheepishly. “It’s not too bad.” His whole body trembled with relief. “But please, don’t tell Dale about it.”
“I will promise no such thing.”
“Duncan told me how you got your voice back—your beautiful voice! I could hear you singing.”
“What happened in there?” Duncan asked.
“I had a very interesting conversation,” she replied, “with the Voice of Voices. She was once a Green Rider.”
“We know,” Alton said. “What did she say? I thought the guardians were going to...” He swallowed hard. “I thought they were going to sacrifice you.”
“No,” she said. “They needed me to sing.” She paused but looked up at the encampment where the lieutenant and others clustered by the fire, waiting to hear her tale, but discreetly kept their distance while Alton welcomed her back. “I’d like some tea, and maybe a bite to eat.”
It calmed Alton more to hear her make so ordinary a request. “You may have anything you wish that is in my power to give, my lady.” He took her hand and led her to where the others waited.
Duncan followed. When they reached the watchfire, Alton said, “I know you all have questions, but Lady Fiori requires tea and supper.”
Lieutenant Janes ordered one of his soldiers to see to it.
Estral assured the lieutenant she was well, and that they’d successfully mended the damage to the wall wrought by Mornhavon’s servants.
“That is a relief,” he replied.
“It will not stay mended,” she said with a warning tone, “unless the spells in Tower of the Earth are extinguished. They weakened this section of wall, allowing Mornhavon to take advantage.”
“And so we must decide if we keep the spells,” Alton said, “to prevent dark Sleepers from coming through the tower, but take the chance the wall might weaken again, allowing Mornhavon’s forces to break it and storm through.”
“Or,” Duncan finished, “we extinguish the spells and keep the wall strong, but allow access for dark Sleepers. To extinguish the spells, we’ll need to pull Haurris’ bones out.”
As they discussed the negatives and positives of their options, and what to do with a great mage’s bones, Alton saw, from the corner of his eye, Peri beckoning Estral aside.
“I do not think storing them in the eyrie is the final answer,” Duncan was saying.
They argued back and forth until suddenly Estral cried out, a sound of such anguish it was as if all the world had stopped.