able as ever. Though now they must face each other with
new and lesser strength, yet they would do it.
The flier wheeled, coasted through a fierce wind, flut-
tered along within its grasp as a leaf might. Yet it was not
powerless; it had a task it must do and nothing man or
nature could devise in this time could prevent it from ac-
complishing that act.
MERLIN'S MIRROR 13
Brigitta slept heavily, yet it seemed to her that in truth
she waked. The wooden wall of the kin house was no long-
er about her. She stood instead on a path she knew well,
the one which led to the spring of prophecy where the
goddess might bless with eternal good fortune someone
who flung an offering. Nor was this the dread night of Sa-
main with its dark, veiled hunters waiting to ensnare man-
kind. About her now was the green freshness of first
spring, of Beltaine when the fires would burn high and
maids and men would leap over their flames hand and
hand, united in worship of those forces which increased
rather than diminished the tribes,
There was a golden light about her that did not come
from the sun overhead. It made a spear point which
reached to her sandaled feet, though the source remained
hidden by bushes just leafing with the spring. The glow
leaped up from that triangle of light into her heart, so she
laughed joyfully and began to run through the brilliance, a
great excitement filling her. Never had she felt so free, so
alive, so entirely happy as in this moment.
Then she saw him as he moved out of the green and
stood waiting for her. This, her heart knew at once, was
the face she had so long searched for among the visitors
to the clan house, or in those few times when she had
traveled abroad. This was the one meant by the Great
Mother to give her full happiness.
He was all light, clothed with radiance and warmth. She
reached him and that warmth and light encased them both
in a private place which was theirs alone. No one else in
the world might ever find or share it. She was a part of
him and he was a part of her, and so they became one in
a way Brigitta could find no words to explain.
The world about them was golden, and it sang as if all
the true-toned birds in the woodlands raised their sweetest
notes at once to blend. She was lost in the warmth, the
