The Seven Songs Read Online Free PDF Page A

was no substitute for real eyesight. Colors faded, details blurred, darkness pressed all the closer. What I would give to heal my eyes! Burned and useless though they were, I always knew they were there. They reminded me constantly of everything I had lost.
    And I had lost so very much! I was only thirteen, and already I had lost my mother, my father, and whatever homes I had known, as well as my own eyes. I could almost hear my mother, in her encouraging way, asking whether I had also gained anything. But what? The courage to live alone, perhaps. And the ability to save all the blighted lands of Fincayra.
    I turned back to the beech tree. Already I had rescued a good portion of the Dark Hills, stretching from the ruins of the Shrouded Castle, now a sacred circle of stones, almost to the northern reaches of the Haunted Marsh. Over the next few weeks, I would bring life back to the rest. Then I could do the same for the Rusted Plains. Although it held more than its share of mysteries, Fincayra was not, after all, a very big place.
    Setting down the Harp, I stepped nearer to the beech. Laying my hands on the smooth, silver bark, I spread my fingers wide, feeling the flow of life through the imposing trunk. Then, pursing my lips, I made a low, swishing sound. The tree shuddered, as if it were breaking free from invisible chains. Its branches quivered, making a swishing sound much like my own.
    I nodded, pleased with my skills. Again I swished. Again the tree responded. This time, however, it did more than quiver. For I had given a command.
    Bend. Bend down to the ground. I wanted to seat myself in its highest branches. Then I would command it to straighten again, lifting me skyward. For as long as I could remember, I had loved to perch in the tops of trees. Regardless of the weather. But I had always needed to climb there myself—until today.
    Hesitantly, with considerable popping and creaking, the great beech began to bend lower. A section of bark ripped away from the trunk. I craned my neck, watching the highest branches descend. As the tree bent before me, I selected my seat, a notch not far from the top.
    Suddenly I heard another swishing sound. The tree stopped bending. Slowly, it began to straighten itself again. Angrily, I repeated my command. The tree halted, then started bending toward me once more.
    Again a swishing sound filled the air. The tree ceased bending and began to straighten.
    My cheeks grew hot. How could this be? I dug my fingers into the trunk, ready to try again, when a clear, bell-like laughter reached my ears. I spun around to see a leaf-draped girl with gray-blue eyes and a mass of curly brown hair. Glistening vines wrapped around her entire body as if she were a tree herself. She watched me, still laughing, her hands on her belt of woven grass.
    “Rhia! I should have guessed.”
    She tilted her head to one side. “Tired of speaking beech so soon? You’re sounding like a Celt again.”
    “I’d still be speaking to the beech if you hadn’t interrupted us.”
    Rhia shook her brown curls, enmeshed with leaves. “I didn’t interrupt your speaking. Only your commanding.”
    Exasperated, I glanced up at the tree, which by now stood perfectly straight again, its silvery leaves tossing in the wind. “Leave me, will you?”
    The curls shook again. “You need a guide. Otherwise, you might get lost.” She looked with concern at the beech tree. “Or try something foolish.”
    I grimaced. “You’re not my guide! I invited you to join me, remember? And when I did, I didn’t think you’d try to interfere.”
    “And when I started teaching you the language of trees, I didn’t think you’d use it to hurt them.”
    “Hurt them? Can’t you see what I’m doing?”
    “Yes. And I don’t like it.” She stamped her foot on the ground, flattening the grass. “It’s dangerous—and disrespectful—to make a tree bend like that. It might injure itself. Or even die. If you want to sit in a tree, then