"The Binding" by Susan McMillan

"I did it!"

Talfan noted the excitement and nervousness in the voice addressing him; high levels of excitement and nervousness. Grabbing the girl by the shoulders, he shook her slightly. Golden hair cascaded, tumbling free of the gold and pearl clasp that had previously restrained the unruly brilliant curls, curls that swirled about the girl’s visage of delicate elfin mischief and large-eyed beauty. "What did you do?"

"I did it! I stole the Horn!"

His hands fell nervelessly from her shoulders, the cosmopolitan façade visibly shaken. "What?" The only word and question he could manage after her outburst. Collecting himself was an almost impossible task but he managed to do so, though with an effort that cost him. The calm, cool and collected demeanor he usually presented was gone for the present. "You stole the Horn from the Wood?" Clouds darkened the molten silver gaze.

It was now the small details that had been previously missed were brought to his notice. Travel-worn cloak. Rain spotted blouse. Scuffed boots. Disheveled hair.

Blood on the usually spotless gloves.

"Again, I will ask this of you: what did you do?" His eyes tripped on the book that had fallen from his hands in his haste to greet her when she had first arrived. "You can not have done what I assume you to have done, an assumption made from your words."

"I did it! I really did it!" Quite clearly, the euphoria from the successful completion of her actions was hindering his words, rendering her able to only repeat her own words and to ignore his. He could almost see the nervous excitement flowing from her in waves he could definitely feel through his bond with her. From behind her back, she brought forth an unpleasant surprise.

The Horn itself was ivory, with intricate carvings decorating the entirety of its surface. Fey silver chasing flowed throughout the carving and tipped the mouthpiece. Its beauty was obvious, yet elusive; he could not identify the bone from which the Horn had been crafted. A hand rose to his lips, to cover them; instead, it combed through his ebony hair, disbelief etched in his face.

"Here, take it." Trembling hands offered it to him, a sacrifice it appeared to him. "Touch it. It’s real. It’s not some childish trick." Eagerness crept into her voice, reminiscent of a delighted child receiving their first valuable gift. "I did it, Talfan, I really did it!" The words exploded from her, so tightly wound from her success.

Disbelief continued to emanate from his tall athletic frame. "Take it away." How could she have done this? "Hide it from my sight." Again, his fingers ran through his hair. "What possessed you to do this, to partake in the course of action that led to this?"

"I told you I would do it, with or without your permission." Quiet now, her jubilance restrained. "You refused your permission, but I did it anyway."
"That much is obvious." Clouded silver watched as she allowed her cloak to fall over her slight frame and conceal the Horn from view. "Explain why, so I might understand." Already, his mind raced with ways to return the Horn, how this situation might be resolved. "Tell me what happened." Please.

Her bright blue eyes regarded him, her manner sobering from her exultation of mere moments before; his apparent horror was enough to dampen her spirits. "Talfan, I told you I would do this, regardless of your thoughts on the matter."

"But I do not understand why you did it. The Horn has to be returned to the Wood, where it belongs. It’s not a force for us to handle or understand." His expression was serious as he settled onto the footstool by his favourite chair. "Its return must be immediate; there are serious consequences to be paid."

Her gloved hands tightened on the Horn. "I can not return it."

Whispered words that he almost didn’t hear. "Why not? It must be returned. I will do whatever I can to aid you in this endeavour." He leaned forward, reaching for her hands despite the fact they still grasped the Horn so securely. "There is nothing so awful in this, Eilonwy, if all you did was steal the Horn. The consequences may not be so severe."

Why was blood splattered on her cloak and gloves?

Automatically, his gaze sought the sword usually worn at her hip.

It was missing, a fact which earned a raised brow. The sword was usually at her side; since gifting it to her, he had not seen her without it outside of social occasions. "Where is gwyliwr?" Sentinel, she had named the sword so it could guard her when he could not.

Silence filled the void between them.

"Eilonwy, no."

She could not have.

His grasp tightened over her hands, as best as he could manage through the cloak. "Please, gods, Eilonwy, tell me what you’re leaving me to assume isn’t true."

Still, silence; no friend, this silence. Its weight deadened the crackling of the flames in the fireplace, dulled the air between them. Ordinarily, silence between them was not this horrid stranger. With this silence, he could only assume the worst for that was the only option she left him. He scrubbed his face with his hands. Any semblance of the man he usually portrayed to the world, any semblance of calm sanity was gone, utterly revoked from his being.

"I refuse to believe this insanity. Tell me your tale Eilonwy and leave nothing out. Nothing, do you hear me?" He risked a glance towards the still statue she had become; not even the unruly mass of gold moved, the silence was that stifling. "You may desire to keep your deeds as they are, but this is not something to be ignored. This situation must be resolved, one way or another."

Indefinite leave had been taken from his duties; questions had been raised but not answered. That Eilonwy was to accompany him did not raise even an eyebrow; it was an accepted fact that the two would often leave on brief journeys together. It was the length of this journey that caused the questions, the raised eyebrows, the murmured gossiped words. Indefinite.

Why, indefinite leave from his duties? Would they not return? Was Eilonwy to be married and Talfan to settle her dowry? Negotiations for dowry, it was known, could take varying amounts of time. And if Eilonwy was to be married, to whom was she being married? Or was it Talfan who was to be married and Eilonwy accompanying him to approve the match?

The possibilities were endless. The questions, the rumours, were not heard by the two who prepared to leave. Secrecy was paramount; their errand could not be known. Talfan had not heard any rumours reach the court of the theft of the Horn, of the search undertaken by the Horn’s guardians to recover the precious artifact. Time was not their friend but he was thankful it had delayed the rumours thus far.

Mounting the stallion that had been a gift from the prince whose court they attended, his cloak billowed behind him, obscuring him from easy view. The cloak had been a gift from his mother; a dove gray when held by hand, its fabric shimmered and seemed to become mist. Despite the light feel to the fabric, it well protected him from the elements. This cloak provided comfort in the cold dawn light; the beauty of the sun’s rising was lost to him. Since losing their parents, Eilonwy was his entire world and he had tried to be there for her, to provide for her since his father could no longer do so. On this cold morning, all he felt was failure yet he was comforted by the cloak, the final present his mother had given him. The horse stepped nervously and he leaned forward, patting its neck under the mane. "Easy, my boy," he murmured soothingly. "We’ll be away soon."

Since that night, when truths had been told and the decision made to face the consequences of her actions, Eilonwy had been silent; grieving for the friend she had lost during the course of this deed. Afan would no longer ride at her side and be her inseparable companion; Talfan had been able to counter the questions about Afan’s disappearance with an ease that sickened him. Afan had gone away, facing the consequences of a foolish mischief. No one truly grieved the absence of Afan ap Angwyn Ceithin, no one except Eilonwy ni Rhyddian Trevan.

They had decided to leave just after the sun’s first glance over the horizon; not many of the court would be about at that time and secrecy and speed would aid them in this journey. It appeared their advantage would be lost until Eilonwy appeared. Garbed all in ebony, her golden curls seemed incongruous with her manner, somber and grieving as it was. In silence, she mounted Afan’s steed and without even a glance to Talfan, she turned her steed towards the courtyard’s exit, away from the home she had known her entire life.

A home to which she might never return.

It took them a week from to reach the Wood from Cymru, perhaps longer. No words had been spoken between them besides what was necessary; each felt the weight of impending doom pressing upon their shoulders; silence followed them like an carrion-crow, for neither knew who would return and who would not. Neither knew what the consequences would be for the actions of impetuous youth; despite his youth, Talfan felt older than his years for the responsibility he carried.

Incessant whisperings of doubt echoed throughout his mind, trying to erode the confidence he carried within himself. This was the right thing to do. How could it not be right, to correct the wrong committed by his kin? Was he taking her to her doom, never to see her again?

Or was it his doom they were following?

At times like these, he wished for the abilities of an awenydd so he could see his own fate.

Dismounting, he ignored the uneasy snorting of his stallion as it pawed the damp ground. In the early pre-dawn light, the Wood appeared eerie; would it have been better to approach on the mortal side of the veil?

Yes, murmured a traitorous voice in the depths of his mind. Or perhaps, best not to have come at all for you send your sister to her death.

What would staying away have achieved aside from teaching Eilonwy it was all right to act upon impulse without thought for the consequences?

The voice remained silent.

Allowing the stallion to graze where it would, his footsteps resounded behind him in the crisp air. Everything was so still; it was not as he had expected. However, a week ago, he would not have expected his sister to appear from a two week absence proclaiming she had stolen the Horn, fulfilling the boast she had made to him what seemed an eternity ago. Clearing his throat with a light cough, he held his hands before him, palms outward to show he came unarmed.

"I seek entrance to the Wood. I would not enter without permission."

His voice rang strongly in the air, a deep voice that held confidence from the well of stillness that resonated within his heart. The confidence, he felt, was a trick of his mind to keep him calm and remaining in the place where he stood. The gray cloak clung to his form and fell in straight folds along his body, allowing him to now to be clearly seen. Eilonwy’s breath was held as they waited for a reply.

Silver eyes remaining fixed upon the tangled shadow of the Wood, he could feel immense power reaching for him, testing his resolve and heart. There were eyes within those tendrils of magic that touched him, eyes that would see past the shields he had erected to protect himself from an insanity of grief and hurt that his sister could do this. Hadn’t he been meant to protect her from such rash behaviour by setting the appropriate example?

Tattered misty skirts parted, to reveal a path hitherto unseen by his eyes. An invitation to enter; his request had been granted. Without looking behind him, he entered secure in the knowledge that his sister would remain behind. She did not need to know what it was he was about to do for he knew she would not allow it.

Brilliant with unshed tears, sapphire eyes watched as the mist settled back about the feet of the trees, swallowing her brother whole.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the Wood was the absence of light. He had not in his life until now seen a place so utterly devoid of light. Shadows pressed in on either side as he followed the path where it would lead him.

Where it would lead him?

Such thoughts made it seem as though the path was alive when in theory he knew that not to be so. Disentangling his mind from the path, he began to center himself for what was to come. The Horn was comfortably ensconced in a pouch at his belt; he would not dare enter this place without it. A gloved hand brushed gently against the soft leather pouch. It was warm to the touch, even through his glove. It pulsated, as though knowing it had come home.

"Halt."

Echoes fluttered against the heart of the silence. The path had stopped in the centre of a clearing. In the periphery of his vision, scattered within the shelter of the trees, he could almost see muted snowy robes; the trees seemed to swallow the figures whole. The speaker had yet to make themselves seen.

"Why do you come, seeking entrance to the Wood in its time of darkness?"

His mind spun with the possibilities of the question. Truth was his only option.

"I come seeking the Wood to return what it has lost."

Movement rustled at the edge of his sight. A woman came into view. Beautiful, her raven hair fell straight between her shoulders and her black eyes were starred with gold and silver. Those eyes unnerved him with their beauty even as they shocked him with their depths. Her robe settled about her feet; mist clung to her, constantly moving in a manner reminiscent of his cloak. "We share the same blood, stranger. I can sense it, smell it from where I stand."

His lips curved, a mocking twist, an almost smile. "Am I to stand here trading genealogies with you, or am I to return what you have lost?"

"Silence!" A commanding sound. "Do not mock me child. You and I, we share blood. Your kin has stolen from me not once but twice and you have come to mock me?" Amusement, glitteringly cruel, caused her huskily velvet voice to curl about his throat. A solitary word spoken in an alien tongue and his throat constricted. Oxygen was refused entry. "When released, state your purpose, stranger, and do not mock my words. I will not be so lenient next time."

Air rushed into his lungs as he gasped; a lesson had been learned. Only his will kept his hands at his sides, refusing to surrender to the urge to assure himself of his throat’s well being. "May I at least know a name so I might have the honour of knowing whom I address?"

Suave. The right note of humility. Strength. It earned a grudging respect amongst the fury. "You may call me Aela."

He sketched a hasty bow. "Well-met, Aela, though I wish it were under a better circumstance than this." He straightened, his gaze direct, his voice no more than a murmur; in the hushed Wood, it was more than loud enough. "I come to return the Horn. Its place is here, with its guardians in the Wood."

Those starry eyes did not waver from their direct study of him; it ran deeply, leaving no stone unturned in his soul and heart. "You expect reward with the Horn’s return?"

A many faceted question. The time of truth had come. "No."

"Yet, you return it, promptly. The Horn is priceless, its return worth a great reward to the one who returns it, although the wealth of the reward may not be what is expected when the word ‘reward’ is used." A momentary pause; a closer study taken, an appraisal of sorts. "What do you expect?"

The time for showmanship was over. "My word to be believed. I expect no reward." Forthright honesty shone through his words. "The Horn’s theft lies solely upon my shoulders."

"Do you realise what burden you accept with those words you use so artlessly?"

Silence, thick, rich, lay in the air between them. A step to one side revealed the sword he had given Eilonwy, point deep in the ground. With great restraint, he remained where he was; it would be careless to move, to surrender what little control he had over the situation at hand. "I would not use them if I didn’t."

A purring laugh; shadows clustered to it. "You know the sword, kin-stealer." Venom and hatred now fully revealed in one so very powerful; the title she gave him was hissed through her teeth. "You know who is responsible for the theft of the Horn, but you deny them the right to face the consequences. You seek to protect them as I sought to protect my own kin. Commendable," a sweet sweet smile, "but foolhardy."

Rustling leaves and nervous shrubbery shoved aside to reveal a girl of golden lockes and deep blue eyes pushed through the opening, landing on her hands and knees. "The image of her father and you, of your mother. You even wear the cloak she crafted with her own hands. How much she must have loved you and despised the kin who resembled your father."

Confusion was rampant amongst the fleeting series of emotions on Eilonwy’s elfin visage. "What does the witch speak of?"

Silver eyes were turned upon the girl; stern, commanding. She had never seen him appear so. "Hush, sister." I would not risk my sacrifice be caught thus. She is not supposed to see this, to witness what I would do to keep her safe.

"Hush, sister," the words were mockingly swift upon the heels of his. "I know her to be the one who killed my brethren, who used the Horn to speed her escape along with her accomplice who lies entombed, alive, in stone as atonement for his sins."

"I willingly take the responsibility for these actions. Why bring the girl here? Mete your punishment and be done with it."

A cruel glittering smile curved the expressive lips. "Temper, temper, though the coolness of your honeyed words belie that fact."

Freeing himself from the fugue that had momentarily incapacitated him, the mood that threatened to overtake him, he stepped forward, his arms cast into the air, his head tilted back, his words louder than a murmur or whisper. "I accept the punishment. I accept the consequences…"

"Talfan, no!!"

"The theft lies upon my shoulders and mine alone, so do with me what you will!"

"No!!!!!" Scrambling to her feet, Eilonwy lurched forward, dragging an arm down from the heavens. "You can not do this Talfan, I beg of it. This folly was not yours."

"But I accept it." Her feverish words had brought his attention back into the Wood, temporarily sobered and a hand cradled her cheek. "I do this, for you. I only ask that you live for me."

"Done!" Mad agreeance and he turned, to face the one who would be his nemesis. "Your fate is mine. You are bound, Talfan ap Yvona, to the Horn of the Wild Hunt. You are the first, you will not be last. Your fate is sealed, your destiny bound for eternity. Do you deny this?"
As before, he met her gaze. "I do not deny. I accept, fully, and without reservation."

Vines began entangling themselves about his feet, emerald tendrils of power entwining with silver as the stars and Wood met, collided and he lurched, stumbling to his knees.

"No," sobbed into the sunless air. She was pulled away from her doomed brother by one of the attendant druids.

Curling himself into a ball around the Horn, he gasped once, twice and on the third gasp of air, the world became black and he knew nothing more.