Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword of Avalon by Diana L. Paxson Page B

Woodpecker as if he’s her own.”
    “I know, but we cannot keep him here forever. Tiny children all look much the same, but as he grows older, even the hair dye will not be enough to make people think he comes from here. Already there are legends that Uldan’s son was reborn from the fire.”
    “To take Woodpecker while he is young will be very hard on both him and Redfern,” the older woman said slowly.
    “I will wait as long as I can.” Anderle sighed. “It may be safest to move him from one village to another.”
    “Maybe, but that is the future,” Willow Woman replied. “We have to keep him safe now or he has no future.You still know mighty magic—protect the Lake Village and he will stay safe within.”
    Anderle stared at her, the new wreath into which she was plaiting purple loosestrife and flowering rush trembling in her hands. “Not just the village. When we make the circuit of the seven sacred islands,” she said slowly, “then I can weave the spell.”
     
     
     
    THE ALLIANCE BETWEEN THE people who had once hunted the marshes and the sun-haired priests and priestesses who had come from across the sea had endured for a thousand years. Each race had its own Mysteries, and the two strains, mingling, had given birth to a tradition that drew on the powers of both the earth and the stars. From this had come the spiral path that linked the inner and outer realities of the Tor itself, and knowledge of the paths the earth energies followed as they flowed through the land.
    The Tor was linked to several of the smaller hills that rose above the fens. A map of these islands formed a shape that they also saw in the stars. The priests knew it as the Chariot of Light, or Caratra’s Wain, but the people of the marshes saw in that constellation the upper part of a bear. To honor that protecting power it had become the tradition to follow the path from isle to isle upon Midsummer Day.
    The long low boats set forth at midnight. When the boats moved from marsh to river, she could feel the difference in their motion, but beyond that, it was as if they floated between the worlds. By the time the sound of voices roused her, the sky was growing lighter. Before them rose the tree-clad hump of the Watch Hill. Already the birds were chorusing their own salutation to the coming day. As the first sliver of gold edged the eastern hills, the boatmen flung their torches into the water and Anderle began the song—
    How beautiful, how beautiful upon the horizon,
The Lord of Day is coming, robed in light!
Awaken, children of earth, as he arises.
Light fills the soul as it fills the land.
Awaken, oh my people, to light and to life.
    She bent, hands moving in the Sign of salutation. Hail to thee, Manoah, Lord of Light. She called on the god by his ancient name. Touch the path we take today with power, that we may be protected from those who would wish us harm. Slowly her arms lifted as she stretched to embrace the light that spilled down the hillsides and lit the waters as if the torches had set them aflame.
    Her breath caught as she felt that same fire ignite within her. Only afterward did she learn that to the others she had seemed limned in light. She turned to the north.
    “As light blesses the land I invoke the spirits of this hill to ward against all foes.”
    As she went back down the path, Anderle could feel the power she had raised spinning out behind her like a thread of light.
    Men from the settlement below the hill waited to pole them on the return journey. This first leg was the longest, following the winding course of the river. To either side long grasses waved from a raised bog, interspersed with heather and a tangle of birch and alder. Dragonflies were already flitting above the water, and now and again a fish would leap to greet the day.
    By the time they reached the low isle where once a great warrior had fought a spirit of darkness, the sun was halfway toward noon. They left an offering and made the short