Aware that the sun was a good deal lower on the horizon, Caleb nodded. “All right. Let’s do it before it gets dark, and your family sends out search parties for you.”
Elinor grinned. “Caleb, you had a message sent to the Park, telling my parents where I am, which I much appreciated, by the way. So the worst you can expect is that they will descend on you here, and interrogate you most thoroughly to find out what’s going on.”
He sighed. “I hope that doesn’t happen, because they’d never believe me.”
“Good point.”
*~~*~~*
The library filled with late afternoon light, softening as the sun dappled the treetops in preparation for the dusk to come.
Caleb and Elinor had decided to move to the couch, with the book between them, and Carrádog sitting on the floor directly in front of it. He had chosen that spot himself, and neither of the humans were about to argue with him, since this was all strange and unpredictable, so why not let a dog select his own place?
“Do we say it together? Or a line each? If so, how do we know which line each of us should speak? And do we say it loudly? Or whisper?”
“Caleb,” soothed Elinor. “We will speak these words together, with one hand on the book and linking our free hands as we recite.” She smiled at him. “The worst thing that can happen? Nothing at all. And it will all have been for naught.”
“I don’t want it to be for naught.” He realised as soon as he said it that he meant it. “I want this to succeed, because if it does, I will always have the knowledge that I helped do something unique and magical.” He looked at her. “With a magical woman that I’m pretty certain I’m going to propose to in the not-too-distant future.”
She sucked in a ragged breath. “Let’s see if it works, Caleb, and then I’ll be better able to focus on what you just said to me.” She squeezed his hand. “And I think that woman might just say yes…”
“Oh,” he swallowed.
“Now, Caleb. Now.”
They each laid a hand on the book, and at that instant Carrádog touched his nose to it as well.
And it started to glow.
“The words, speak the words…” Elinor’s eyes were wide.
So they began, quietly at first, then catching the other’s rhythm and blending their voices.
By hearth and heart, by root and sky
We call the light that cannot die.
From shadowed halls and silent glen,
Come home, fair folk, to life again.
The sound of their words faded, and for a few moments there was complete silence. Not a leaf swayed outside, and those inside barely moved. It was as if the world held its breath for an instant.
Then Carrádog shifted, the book’s glow faded, and the silence was broken by one loud, musical trill from some kind of bird.
Elinor remained still, her hand clasped in Caleb’s, and felt the odd sensation of their hearts beating in tandem.
“Do you feel it?” she whispered. “Our heartbeats…”
“Yes,” he breathed. “I feel it…beatingtogether…”
Something soft brushed Elinor’s cheek, and she closed her eyes. “Oh,” she whispered.
“It’s as if something breathed on me,” murmured Caleb. “What’s happening?”
“Maybe,” she gripped his hand firmly. “Maybe the land sighed. Maybe it is breathing again…and I can hear…”
“Music. Harps, bells…” Caleb sucked in air, and he too closed his eyes. “God, Elinor, what have we done?”
