Free Lady of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson

as it would take you to climb to the top of the Tor and come back down,” said Riannon, who, like the other priestesses, had an ability to gauge the passage of time that seemed uncanny.
    “Then the Druids who will bring the fire are up there now,” said Gawen, remembering what Brannos had said to him.
    It was Caillean who answered. “They wait for midnight, braving the cold and the dangers of the darkness. Be still now, my children, and pray to the Lady to kindle a light within your own darkness, for, though you may not think so, your darkness is deeper and more dangerous than this night that wraps the world.”
    She fell silent. For a long time, it seemed, no one moved. Gawen laid his head against Caillean’s knee. No sound was heard but the soft sigh of breathing; even the wind had abated, as if all the world were waiting with the human souls who huddled here. He started as something touched him, then realized it was Caillean’s hand, stroking his hair. He stilled in wonder, and something within him that had been as frozen as the winter rime began to ease. As that gentle, regular caress continued, he turned his face against her thigh, glad that it was too dark for anyone to see the tears on his face.
    It was not a sound, but some other change, perhaps in the air itself, that brought him to full awareness once more. It was still quite dark, but the shadows that surrounded him seemed to weigh less heavily. Someone stirred; he heard steps as someone went to the door.
    “Listen!” The door was pulled open, revealing a rectangle of midnight-blue frosted with stars, and, faint as if the stars themselves were singing, came a breath of song.
    “From darkness comes the light;
    Out of our blindness, sight;
    Let shadows now take flight!
    Now at the holy hour
    the word of power is spoken;
    and night is broken…”
    Gawen stiffened, straining to make out the words. Someone gasped and he looked upward. At the top of the Tor a light had blossomed, a tiny, flickering point of flame that in a moment was followed by another, and then a third. The maidens murmured, pointing, but Gawen was waiting for the next verse of the song.
    “The year shall cycle round,
    The cold earth be unbound,
    All that was lost be found!
    Now at the holy hour
    the word of power is spoken;
    the ice is broken…”
    The line of light flowed downward, spiraling around the Tor. The voices faded as the light passed around the far side of the hill, and then, returning, grew stronger. As when he had yearned for the music of the Christians, Gawen trembled, hearing these harmonies. But whereas the monks’ liturgies were majestic affirmations of order, the melodies of the Druids met and parted, soaring and fading with the simultaneously free and inevitable harmony of birdsong.
    “When loss is turned to gain,
    By joy transforming pain,
    Shall sorrow strive in vain.
    Now at the holy hour
    the word of power is spoken;
    and death is broken…”
    They were close enough now so that the torchlight showed him the men who carried them, a line of white-mantled Druids winding down the hill. Gawen swayed where he stood, wanting to be part of that music.
    “The blessed tidings bring,
    From winter cometh spring,
    This is the truth we sing.
    Now at the holy hour
    the word of power is spoken;
    and fear is broken…”
    The singers, led by white-bearded Cunomaglos, approached the hall. The women parted to let the men enter. Brannos, his aged features luminous with the ecstasy of the music, met Gawen’s ardent gaze and smiled.
    I will be a bard, thought the boy. I will! I will ask Brannos to teach me.
    Pushing back into the hall behind the others, he blinked, confused by the brilliance after so long in the dark. A dozen flaring torches cast their light on smiling faces, but as Gawen’s vision sharpened, his gaze fixed on one person. Her fair hair floated in a nimbus around a face as bright as day; her eyes shone. Very slowly a name took shape in his mind- Sianna -but this was