Children of Avalon

by Meredith Bond

  Dylan turned around and held his hand out to Bridget. “I think you and Scai should stay here while Sir Dagonet and I go on and see what this is about. I don’t like what I feel coming from there.”

  Bridget hesitated, but then, for once, did as Dylan suggested. Perhaps she could feel it too. I certainly felt something—an icy tension in the air.

  “Why don’t you two wait at the inn, wot?” Sir Dagonet suggested.

  I gave a nod but didn’t really think that Bridget would consent to waiting by so meekly.

  Just as I had suspected, Bridget grabbed my hand as soon as the two men had ridden off and started after them.

  A loud cry went up from a great number of people farther ahead, and Bridget broke into a run. I couldn’t deny that I was just as curious to see what was going on, but as soon as we rounded the bend in the road, I almost wished we had stayed at the inn after all.

  In the center of the town green, a huge bonfire had been built with a pole standing straight up in the center of it. Tied to the pole was a young woman struggling for all she was worth.

  Dylan had acquired a sword from somewhere, and he and Sir Dagonet were fighting the three knights from the inn in front of the bonfire. There was a large crowd of people standing all about, talking and arguing over the fight. Some men tried to help the knights. Others started to fight against them bare–fisted. Most of the women had pulled to the back, but one or two stood their ground and fought alongside their men.

  “Can you take care of them? I’ll see to the girl,” Dylan called out, while taking an enormous swipe at the guard directly in front of him. The man went down.

  “Not a problem, lad. Off with you, then,” Sir Dagonet called back.

  Dylan maneuvered through the crowd toward the bonfire and jumped down from his horse just as he reached it. He had to fight off a few overzealous townsmen as they tried to protect their prisoner, but he moved them out of his way with the flat side of his sword and his fist.

  With one stroke, he cut the bonds holding the girl to the stake and then held out his arms for her. Without a second’s hesitation, she jumped straight into them, and I heard a gasp and a startled “Oh!”

  I was about to look around for who had made the noise and then realized it had been me. How ridiculous! He was saving the girl; of course she would jump into his arms and hold on for dear life.

  Dylan had a moment’s problem trying to free himself from the girl’s grasp, but he managed to do so and swung them both up onto his horse.

  As soon as I saw them settled on Dylan’s horse, I turned, took Bridget’s hand and ran back toward the inn. We would have to make a quick escape from this town, although I didn’t quite know how we were going to manage with an extra person—the horses were already overloaded, each carrying two people instead of just one.

  We were out of breath but had reached the inn just as Sir Dagonet and Dylan rode up.

  The girl slid off of Dylan’s horse. “Oh, sir, how can I ever thank you?” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “No need at all,” Dylan said, his cheeks flushing pink.

  “Oh no, it was nothing, wot?” Sir Dagonet said, giving his usual little chuckle.

  Dylan looked at the old man and smiled. “All in a day’s work, eh?” he said with a little laugh.

  “Quite right, my boy, quite right,” Sir Dagonet agreed. “Now, little lady, is there somewhere we can leave you before that crowd realizes you’re gone and comes looking for you?”

  The girl looked around to get her bearings and then said, “Oh no, right here is perfectly fine. The innkeeper is a good friend. She’ll take care of me.”

  “Right, then,” Sir Dagonet said, giving her a nod.

  Chanting voices calling out “Burn the witch! Burn the witch!” came tumbling toward them, and the head of the mob could just be seen at the bend of the road.

  A fresh wave of terror covered the girl’s face. I had to hold on to my own hands in front of me to stop them from trembling. A cold wind blew through my veins. I took a step closer to Dylan, who was still sitting on his horse.

  “Ah, right. Well, we should be off, then, wot, wot?” Sir Dagonet said, with a little smile.

  “Oh yes! Please! And thank you once again!” The girl said, before quickly disappearing into the inn.

  I was halfway on to Dylan’s horse before the girl had even finished speaking. Bridget must have been doing likewise, because both Dylan and Sir Dagonet were able to take off at a brisk gallop within moments. Shouts followed us out of town, but soon faded as neither Dylan nor Sir Dagonet let up on their horses for a good mile or more.

  I held on to Dylan, perhaps a little more tightly than was strictly necessary. I didn’t even want to allow myself to think about what would have happened to that girl if Dylan and Sir Dagonet hadn’t stepped in.

  “These witch hunts,” Bridget started, but if she ever finished her sentence, I didn’t hear it. I just buried my face in Dylan’s back and tried very hard to stop trembling.

  That could have been me, or any one of us.

  “Scai, are you all right?” Dylan asked over his shoulder.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine,” I managed to say. I didn’t know why, but the thought that I would give my life for others didn’t bother me nearly as much as the terror of being burned at the stake. Thank goodness I had Dylan to hold on to just now. He would keep me safe. I knew he would. His warm hand covered one of my own, and my fear eased just enough to stop my trembling.

  We turned and continued heading north as soon as we could, riding through a forest with almost no path to follow.

  “Well, so much for stopping to buy something to eat, wot, wot?” Sir Dagonet said a little sadly.

  “I brought a bit of bread from the inn this morning,” Bridget offered.

  Sir Dagonet turned around in his saddle and gave her a brilliant smile.

  She laughed and admitted, “I knew I wouldn’t be able to last very long without something, and I didn’t know when, or even if, we would find food along the road.”

  “Good thinking, my girl, good thinking, wot?” Sir Dagonet said.

  There wasn’t really a good place to stop to eat, so after a while, we just stopped where we were. I had, by then, gotten over my fright, but now I was beginning to feel sore and knew that Bridget was, too—the surreptitious rubbing of her bottom gave her away. It felt good to take a little walk around and stretch my legs.

  The ‘bit of bread’ that Bridget had brought along turned out to be a fine meal of bread, cold meat, and cheese as well. Dylan had brought a skin of wine, so it turned out to be a rather merry party after all.

  “Sir Dagonet, you were about to tell us about the prophecy,” Bridget reminded him, after we had begun to eat.

  “Ah, yes. The prophecy.” Sir Dagonet put down his cup and absently began fiddling with his left wrist. “Well, let’s see, that’s where Nimuë comes in to our little story, don’t you know? The prophecy that Merlin made just before she entombed him described the three of you, and Nimuë as well, but it ended like this.”

  He paused to clear his throat and then recited in a grand voice:

  “But Avalon’s child will not fail

  To discover my stony grail.

  Then one, wielding the power of three,

  The greatest earthly force will be.

  My power will render her accursed,

  Unless the trio all die first.

  Or she will be, I prophesy,

  Destroyed by one and children three.”

  He ended with his arm outstretched in a fanfare of excitement.

  “What does that mean, ‘unless the trio all die first’?” Bridget asked, clearly not liking this line at all.

  I couldn’t say that I did either, but I said, “No, don’t you see, the chalice will render Lady Nimuë’s power accursed unless we die first. So either she has to kill us, or we...we kill her.” I really didn’t like it, but I was certain that was what the prophecy had meant. A shiver ran down my
spine.

  “That...that is what it means, isn’t it, sir?” I asked, hoping he would say no.

  “That’s it precisely!” he said cheerfully, picking up his cup and reaching for some more bread and cheese. He looked sympathetically at Bridget, who had gone very pale.

  “So that’s why she captured us. Lady Nimuë’s got to kill us,” Dylan said.

  “Take our powers and then kill us. ‘One wielding the power of three,’ ” I added, putting it all together. Now everything made sense. Everything made entirely too much sense.

  “What, wot? Why are you all looking upset? It’s nothing, really. Oh, it’ll be a little bit of a dust up for certain, but nothing to turn yourselves inside out about.”

  I just stared at Sir Dagonet. I couldn’t believe he didn’t think this was something serious.

  “I don’t kill people,” Bridget stated unequivocally. “I’m a healer.”

  “Oh, well, when the time is right, I know you’ll do what—”

  “No!” Bridget interrupted Sir Dagonet. “I will not kill anyone. Anytime. For any reason.”

  “Bridget, none of us ever wants to kill anyone,” Dylan began, “but sometimes it’s just what you have to do.”

  “Well, not me. Not ever!” Bridget turned her face away from the others and stared off into the woods.

  Dylan looked at me. But I did not, for once, meet his eyes. I didn’t ever want to kill anyone either. In this argument, I was firmly on Bridget’s side.

  <><><>

  We traveled with only short breaks to rest for the next two days, until Sir Dagonet stopped at a fork in the road. He sat on his horse staring long and hard down one road and then turning to look down the other.

  “Do you not know the way, sir?” Dylan asked.

  “Er, used to,” the old knight answered hesitantly. “Not sure I remember this, though.”

  I exchanged nervous looks with Bridget and Dylan from my place behind Sir Dagonet.

  “Well, shouldn’t we be heading north?” Bridget asked, looking down the right–hand fork.

  “Er, well, yes, but it’s either at this fork where one of the roads looks like it heads north and then swings around to the west, and so we take the south fork, or at the next fork where we take the west fork, which then swings around to the north, don’t you know.”

  I felt as if I’d just been blown around in a quick circle and had completely lost track of which direction I’d been facing to begin with. “But then how do we know which fork to take?”

  “We take the one heading toward the sea, wot, wot?” Sir Dagonet answered decisively. But then didn’t move.

  “And which one might that be, sir?” Dylan asked.

  The knight’s shoulders slumped down a little. “Don’t know.”

  “Toward the sea,” I repeated, trying to figure out how we could tell if we were headed toward the sea. A slight breeze ruffled my hair giving me an idea. “I’ve got it!” I closed my eyes for a moment and called upon the wind from down the road to our right. Gently it tickled my cheeks, bringing with it the sweet smell of an apple orchard not too far away.

  “No, that’s not right,” I said to myself. I then turned in the other direction and asked the wind to come from the other road. My hair flittered into my face.

  “I smell it!” Dylan exclaimed. “The sea is that way.” He turned and gave me a brilliant smile.

  “Ah! Well done, Scai, well done, wot, wot,” Sir Dagonet exclaimed. He gave his horse a small nudge and off we went.

  “Good thinking,” Bridget said. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

  “But you’re not associated with the element of air,” Dylan pointed out.

  “No, I’m not,” she conceded.

  “I’m a little surprised that I did think of it,” I admitted. “It’s pretty amazing the way I’ve taken to this,” I said, finally voicing an idea that had played tag with me ever since I’d met Sir Dagonet.

  “The way you’ve taken to what?” Bridget asked.

  “To magic. To having it and using it,” I answered.

  “That’s right, you didn’t grow up with this, did you?” Bridget asked.

  “I didn’t even know I had any until I was confronted by an angry mob of townspeople accusing me of being a witch.”

  “That must have been terrifying,” Dylan said.

  “It was. But I had Father Llewellyn there to calm them down. Unfortunately, their calm only lasted until they could build the bonfire where they planned to burn me.”

  My admission was greeted with horrified looks.

  “I escaped before the light of day,” I told them.

  “Close one, wot?” Sir Dagonet said, shaking his head.

  “Too close,” I agreed.

  “No wonder you were trembling when we left that last town,” Dylan said. “I could feel your fear, but I didn’t realize...”

  I tried to give a negligent shrug. “It’s okay. I’m glad you were able to save that girl.”

  “Indeed,” Sir Dagonet agreed before we all lapsed into our own thoughts.

  We rode on in silence for a few more minutes before Bridget said, “I can’t imagine growing up without magic. Didn’t you feel as if you were missing something?”

  “I did feel that way,” I admitted, “but I thought it was just my family that I was missing. I didn’t realize it was more than that.”

  “Well, now that you’ve found your family and your magic, you must be feeling really good,” Bridget said with a happy spark.

  I thought about that. Did I feel good? Did I feel complete? “I don’t know, Bridget. There’s still something missing...” I didn’t feel entirely comfortable in this new skin I was wearing—the one with a family, and a destiny—I still didn’t feel quite right.

  “Could it be the chalice?” Dylan asked. “I’m certain I’ll feel as if I’ve accomplished one of my life’s goals when we find that.”

  “Yes, it must be that,” I agreed, but I wasn’t really certain that was it.

  “And, of course, we have to get rid of Lady Nimuë,” Dylan added as an afterthought.

  Bridget and I exchanged a look and were in complete agreement—we truly didn’t want to have to kill anyone.

  “Well, I, for one, am grateful you’ve taken to this so easily, not that I thought you wouldn’t. Quite useful, your magic, and you wield it cleverly, wot, wot,” Sir Dagonet said, breaking into the awkward silence. He gave my hand a fatherly pat. “We’ll soon find the chalice. And Nimuë... well, we’ll see about her when the time comes, don’t you know.”

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Nimuë paced back and forth in her room. It still amazed her that those children had managed to escape. At least now there was a good chance they would be caught once again. Now, she had not only Lord Lefevre’s men out looking for them, but also the men of all of the nobles in the country.

  They couldn’t escape now. Within no time, they would be out of her way, burned at the stake for being witches.

  What was odd was that she had not spoken to her sister since the day the trio had escaped her. It was unlike Morgan not to gloat just a little and point out Nimuë’s failures to her. Oh yes, she always said she did so in order for Nimuë to learn a lesson, but honestly, who could believe such nonsense? No, her sister thought herself better and loved to rub it in. Nimuë would have done the same thing had their positions been reversed. The children would soon be caught and killed, however, and then she would not have to hear from her sister again for another two hundred years, at least.

  She turned to her silver bowl. Blowing gently onto the water, she willed it to show her the trio again. For the past two days she had left them alone, but now it was time to find where they were and make sure they were stopped—now that they were far enough away so no blame for their deaths could fall on to Father du Lac.

  The water showed them in a forest, but it was impossible to judge where. Nimuë’s eyes skimmed the background looking for clues, but there were none.


  Nothing but trees.

  She watched as Sir Dagonet looked up at the sun.

  “Continue heading north, sir?” Dylan asked the old man.

  “Er, yes. North. Need to turn to the west in a bit—or is that east? First east and then west? Er, one of the two, but not quite yet, don’t you know. Soon, but not...quite...yet. Don’t worry,” the old man said. “We’ll find it, no doubt about that, wot?”

  He did not sound so sure of his directions, Nimuë thought with a laugh.

  Where in the world was he leading them? She began to think seriously about this. Where would that old buffoon take those children?

  Nimuë gripped the edge of the table. There was only one answer.

  He knew where the chalice was. He was taking them there.

  “You are deep in thought,” Morgan’s voice startled Nimuë, but only for a moment.

  “It is time,” Nimuë answered.

  Morgan went still for a moment. “Time for what?”

  “Time those children were killed. Dagonet is leading them to the chalice. They must die before they get there.”

  “Nimuë, you cannot kill them.” Her sister’s voice had an urgency to it that Nimuë had not heard before.

  “Do not worry so, dear sister,” Nimuë purred. “I will take care of this. And the prophecy is clear—I am, after all, just following what Merlin foretold would come to pass.”

  “He spoke of your downfall.”

  “Unless the children died first. Now which do you think I would choose?”

  “Nimuë,” her sister said with a sigh. “Do you not understand? The children must live. We have got to see to that.”

  “I do not see anything of the sort.” And frankly, Nimuë was getting tired of this argument.

  “If you do not see it, then I do. And I—”

  “You will do nothing!” Nimuë said, losing patience altogether. “You leave this to me, Morgan. This is my fight. My life. My—”

  “Your death,” Morgan said with finality.

  Nimuë was stunned. She could not say a word.

  Morgan sighed. “Nimuë, the Children of Avalon are the future, do you not see that? They are the future. We are the past. We must let go.”