Read The Seven Songs for Free Online Page B

see! Sunlight glinted on her golden hair, and a different kind of light played in her vibrant blue eyes. I could even see the tiny sprig of hemlock that she held in her hand.
    Then, to my shock, I discovered that my front teeth were growing longer. Much longer. Bigger and bigger they grew, curling around like the tusks of a wild boar. Those daggerlike points were aiming straight for my eyes! As my teeth continued to lengthen, I flew into a panic. I screamed. My mother came running, but too late to help. I clawed at my face, trying to pull my teeth out bare-handed. I couldn’t remove them. I couldn’t stop them.
    Slowly, inexorably, the teeth curled around until the tips reached my eyes. My own eyes! In just a few seconds they would be punctured. With a shriek of pain, I felt them rupture. I was blind again, utterly blind.
    I awoke.
    There was the stream, splashing beside me. There was Pegasus, sailing overhead. I lifted my head from the rushes. It was only a dream. Why then was my heart still pounding? Gingerly, I touched my cheeks, scarred from the fire that had blinded me in real life. They ached terribly from the new scratches I had just given them. Yet my heart ached even more. All this from a fire of my own making! To have lost my eyes was bad enough. To have done it to myself was still worse. For the first time in months, I wondered whether Dinatius, the other boy trapped in the fire that I had started, had survived. I could still hear his screams of agony, his whimpers of fear.
    I put my face into the rushes and wept. As the stream flowed, so did my tears. In time, my jobbing subsided. Yet it seemed that the sound of sobbing continued, somewhere beyond the splashing of the stream. I lifted my head, listening closely.
    More sobbing, punctuated by long, heaving moans. Patting my wet and sore cheeks with the sleeve of my tunic, I crept closer to the water’s edge. Despite the darkness, my second sight traced the stream’s path for some distance. Yet I couldn’t find the source of the dismal sound. Maybe it was just my own echoing memory.
    Leaning over the coursing water, I groped among the rushes with my hands. My knee kept sliding off the edge of the muddy bank, almost landing in the water. I continued to search, though I found nothing. Nothing at all. Yet the sobbing and moaning seemed to come from somewhere very near, almost in the stream itself.
    In the stream itself. That was it! But how could that be?
    I started to plunge my left hand into the water, then caught myself. The old pain throbbed between my shoulder blades. Could this be some sort of trick? One of Fincayra’s hidden perils, like the shifting wraiths who take the form of something pleasant just long enough to lure you to your death? Rhia would know. But Rhia, I reminded myself bitterly, was no longer with me.
    The moaning welled up again. Starlight sparkled on the dark surface of the stream, making it look like a river of crystals. Biting my lip, I thrust in my hand. A frigid wave washed over my wrist and forearm. My skin reeled from the shock of cold. Then my fingers touched something. Smooth. Round. Softer than stone. Fumbling to get a grip on the slippery object, I seized it and pulled it free from the water. It was a flask, not much bigger than my fist, made from a heavy bladder. Its leather cap had been sealed tight with a thick coating of wax. Bloated with air, the dripping flask glinted darkly.
    I squeezed it. A loud wailing struck my ears. Then came sobs, heavy with heartache. Using the base of my wooden staff, I cut away the ring of wax. It came off only gradually, as if reluctant to loosen its grip. Finally it fell away. I tore open the cap. A rush of air blew across my cheeks. It felt warm and soothing, and smelled vaguely of cinnamon. As the flask collapsed, the gust of air flowed over my face and hair like a living breath.
    “Thank you, person, thank you,” came a wispy little voice from behind my head.
    I dropped the flask and whirled