Children of Avalon

by Meredith Bond

  “Yes. And so you shall.”

  Scai took a breath to ask another question, but Lady Morgan held up her hand to stop her. “I will explain everything you wish to know to you at a later time.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Scai said, lowering her eyes and clasping her hands together. She looked as if her hands were physically holding her back from asking any more questions. She practically trembled with the need for knowledge.

  I gave Scai a sympathetic smile. It must be hard for her. She knew nothing about the people of Avalon, the Vallen, but she would learn. That was the other reason why we were here on the island: to learn. I just wished we would get to it.

  “I think we’re all looking forward to learning a lot while we’re here,” I said.

  Lady Morgan smiled, but it seemed rather a sad smile. “And I hope that you learn all that you wish to. I am more than willing to help you in any way that I can, but I am afraid that the secrets of Merlin’s chalice are as little–known to me as they are to you.”

  “You mean you don’t know how to use the chalice either?” Scai asked.

  Lady Morgan shook her head. “No. I am afraid I do not. I have some ideas of how to learn more about it, but first, I truly think we need to allow Sir Dagonet to change into dry clothing. Once he has done so, I will show you my idea.”

  With that, she turned around and continued walking up the road and through the trees. We had no choice but to follow.

  I sincerely hoped that whatever Lady Morgan had in mind would, in fact, teach us how to use the chalice. It was imperative that we learned as soon as possible—to ease our minds, if nothing else.

  Chapter 6

  Avalon was exactly as I had seen it in my dream. Low white marble buildings surrounded a village green. Most were open to the elements with columns in place of walls, although there were a few buildings that were completely enclosed, instead boasting beautifully intricate, inviting doorways

  The only thing missing—and the scene that I remembered most fondly from my dream—was the lake. I assumed it wasn’t far, though, especially since I kept hearing the soft, but constant sound of a waterfall in the background.

  Lady Morgan led us to one of the enclosed buildings. The door cut off one corner of the building. It was open, but a rather large man stood just outside of it. He looked more like a guard than any sort of servant, muscular and intimidating.

  Lady Morgan stopped in front of the man. “Bevan will show the gentlemen to their rooms. We will meet you on the green in ten minutes, if that will be convenient, Sir Dagonet?”

  “What, oh, er, yes, thank you, madam. Ten minutes will be fine,” the knight said, tripping over the doorway.

  Lady Morgan laughed and shook her head before leading the girls off.

  ~~~~~

  I took a deep refreshing breath. The lake was as beautiful as I’d imagined, and the warm spray of the waterfall felt good against my skin. Only Bridget looked a little uncomfortable, standing so close to the lake. She took a step away from the water’s edge.

  “This is what keeps our weather here on Avalon temperate,” Lady Morgan explained. “The lake is naturally warm, and the water that feeds it comes from a hot spring at the top of this hill.” She pointed up to the top of the waterfall about thirty feet above us.

  “It’s lovely,” Scai exclaimed.

  Lady Morgan looked up at the majestic waterfall with an expression of true love in her eyes. “It is beyond lovely, Scai, it is magical.” She met our eyes with her own. The gentle breeze from the water stirred the air around them.

  Scai nodded, agreeing. The brilliant light of the day reflected off the water, making her eyes an even brighter blue than they normally were. Her cheeks were pink with excitement and her pale blond hair moved ever so slightly in the breeze from the waterfall. I had to force my eyes away; otherwise I could have just stood here and watched Scai for hours.

  Lady Morgan turned back to the lake and then knelt at the water’s edge. Taking the chalice, which Scai had brought with her, she dipped the cup into the lake and gently washed it in the clean, clear water. She then held it up to catch the spray from the waterfall. “This is our most precious water,” Lady Morgan explained while we waited for the cup to fill. “It is absolutely pure. It comes from the heart of the earth and is heated from the fires within it. It breathes the air as it falls. This, the power of the earth, is what gives us our magic powers.”

  A tingle of magic and warmth jolted me, before I realized it was Scai who had breached the few inches between us and was touching my fingers with her own. She gave me a look that sent tingles shooting through the rest of my body as well, but then her gaze slipped past me to Bridget on my other side.

  I took a step back and took Bridget’s hand with my other one. The link between the three of us was strong. I could feel the magic coursing through us. Only at the tree when we’d retrieved the chalice had I ever felt anything like this. I felt cleansed and energized. There was nothing that was going to stop us. Nothing possibly could. We were the Children of Avalon.

  Lady Morgan stood, now holding the filled chalice. She passed it to Scai, who took it in her one free hand. She moved as if to pass it to Bridget, but instead of handing it to her, the two girls held the chalice together, closing the circle.

  Heat and a more intense magic than anything I’d ever felt before shot through me. It was nearly overwhelming, but it felt good. Almost too good.

  “Welcome, my children.” A man’s deep voice startled me into opening my eyes. I hadn’t even realized that they’d closed. I’d been concentrating on just feeling the magic flowing through us.

  I looked around, but no one had joined us that I could see. Lady Morgan and Sir Dagonet stood next to each other just outside of our circle—the lady with a serene expression on her face, Sir Dagonet stunned.

  “I knew that you would find me,” the voice continued. “And I thank Sir Dagonet and Lady Morgan most sincerely for bringing you all here.”

  I gasped. There was a face shining in the water in the chalice. A man’s face; old and wizened, with a long straggly beard, but with a smile that seemed to hold the world’s wisdom in it. He was looking around our circle, from Scai, to me, to Bridget and then back again.

  “My Lord Merlin?” Sir Dagonet gasped.

  “My good friend, Dagonet. I knew you would not fail me,” Merlin said, shifting his gaze over to the old knight.

  “No, no, sir. I, I told you I would not,” Sir Dagonet said, straightening back his shoulders.

  “Lady Morgan, your help has been invaluable as well.”

  Lady Morgan bowed her head slightly. “It is my pleasure, my lord.”

  The face in the water returned the gesture saying, “But I shall ask so much more of you, my lady. These young people need training, and in my limited capacity...” his voice trailed off, but his predicament was clear—he wasn’t here in Avalon and could only communicate through his chalice from wherever he was.

  “You should have no concerns, my lord. You know that I will do all that I can.”

  Merlin nodded his head again. “I thank you. I shall direct their training, but the assistance of you and your priestesses will be much appreciated.”

  He turned and looked around the circle once again. “I think... yes. I believe we will do this in the order that you are in now. Beginning on my left, Bridget, I will start with you. Dylan will then have his turn and, finally, Scai. How does that sound to the three of you?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Scai was also clearly at a loss for words, but as always, Bridget was not. Despite the awe that burned in her eyes, she said, “Thank you, sir. We shall be honored to learn everything you can teach us. We have encountered Lady Nimuë a few times already and escaped, so far, unharmed, but we know that we lack the necessary knowledge to truly defeat her.”

  Merlin’s eyes saddened as he looked around the circle again. “I am sorry to hear that she has not changed. And yet, I am not at all surprised. It is exactly as I pr
edicted, is it not? Nimuë is trying to become the most powerful Vallen in the world and she will do so shortly if you do not stop her.”

  “We will stop her, sir,” I said, finding my voice. Energy surged through me. Energy and something more. My fighting instinct, my drive—my anger at Lady Nimuë, who had reduced me to nothing more than the child she had called me, dredging up such painful memories. We would stop her. I was more certain of this than I had ever been in my life.

  ~~~~~

  Nimuë had only just returned to her rooms when there was a knock at her door. She adjusted into her disguise as Father du Lac as she walked to the door.

  “The king wishes to speak with you,” the page said, bowing to her.

  Father du Lac paused. What did that idiot want? She didn’t have time for his foolishness or his simpering confessions just now. She had people to kill. There was nothing for it, though. She couldn’t put him off. He was key to her success.

  Father du Lac nodded. “Of course. I will be there momentarily.”

  The page bowed again and ran off to deliver the message.

  The elderly priest stepped back into his room to retrieve his cross and rosary beads, just in case the king had in mind to give his confession. Better to get this done quickly. “Where have you been?” King Edward demanded, before she had even stepped fully into his private chamber.

  Father du Lac stopped. No one spoke to Nimuë in that tone. She took a deep breath and allowed her anger to fall away. It had been a hard lesson for her to learn, but patience and calm were essential elements of her disguise. She called now on years of playing the priest as she came further into the room.

  The king was sitting on a chair grand enough to be a throne, and yet it was situated comfortably in front of the fire. It was the imperious look of displeasure that the young man had on his face that most annoyed Nimuë, but Father du Lac’s expression was calm and his manner as obsequious as always.

  Father du Lac bowed low. “I must beg your pardon, your majesty. I had work elsewhere outside of the castle.”

  “Yes, so I was told. You’ve had a lot of work outside of the castle recently. I don’t like it. You are here for my pleasure. You are my priest. My confessor!” His voice rose like that of a peevish child.

  Nimue’s anger lessened, and she tried to hide a smile. The king was so dependent upon Father du Lac, he could barely blow his nose without running it past his confessor first. “I am flattered, your majesty.” Father du Lac said, keeping his voice quiet and gentle. “And deeply aggrieved that I should have caused you so much... hardship. But I am here now. What is it that you wished to speak to me about?”

  The boy huffed unhappily and turned back to the fire. “It is my army. It is not big enough, not strong enough,” he complained. “I need more men.” He stood up and began to pace. “The Danes are on the move. They will be here within the month. With the army I have now we will be slaughtered out of hand. I need more men!”

  “I understand, Sire. But what can a lowly priest such as I do to see that you get these men? Isn’t it up to your lords to provide you with your army?”

  The king stopped his pacing and faced the old priest. “Yes it is, but you have set them to flushing out these witches. Your silly witch hunt is occupying my men when they should be here preparing for battle. I want this nonsense stopped, immediately.”

  Father du Lac took a step back and thought about this. Nimuë could not afford to stop the witch hunts. Although she had begun them just to capture the Children of Avalon, they’d had the added benefit of culling the population of Vallen. It was essential that the number of Vallen be diminished if she was to be acclaimed as the most powerful in the country. And even more importantly, it was the older Vallen, those who might still remember Avalon and the strength of Morgan le Fey, who must be killed. It was these Vallen whom the idiots out hunting for witches were ferreting out most often. No, she could not stop the witch hunts. It would spoil all of her plans.

  Father du Lac opened his hands in supplication, his rosary dangling from his fingers. “Your majesty, it is not possible. It is for the good of the country that we continue with the eradication of the witches. How are you going to be taken seriously as a good and Christian king if you allow these people to continue their disgusting pagan rites? How are you going to man your army if they turn your men against you with their filthy witchcraft?”

  “I need those men!” the king repeated with more force.

  “Yes, Sire, and you shall have them, but first we must do all that we can to eradicate this disease within our body. We must kill the witches first.”

  “No! The Danes... Did you not hear what I just said? The Danes are going to be here within the month!”

  “You will do well enough against the Danes with the men you have. And I suppose...”

  A knock at the door interrupted Father du Lac.

  The king turned, a look of concern on his handsome face. “What?”

  The guard who always stood just outside of the king’s door stepped into the room and bowed. “I beg your pardon, your majesty, but Mistress Carey wishes to have a word with you. She is quite distraught and insists on seeing you immediately, Sire.”

  The king seemed a bit taken aback, but he nodded and indicated with a wave of his hand that the woman could come in.

  Mistress Carey was indeed distraught. The king’s old nanny hurled herself through the door, her gray hair half falling down across her face, and threw herself down onto the floor at the king’s feet. “Your Majesty, oh Sire, please, please save me!”

  The king gave Father du Lac a shocked look and then bent down to raise the woman up. “Mistress Carey, whatever could be the matter?”

  “They want to kill me, Sire, and my daughter. I only just escaped. Please, Sire, you’ve got to save her! You’ve got to stop them!”

  “Save her from whom? Who is this threatening you and your daughter?”

  “The knights, Your Majesty. They say that they’ve come in your name. That you’ve ordered all of the witches in the kingdom to be killed.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Father du Lac and I were just discussing this. But what does that have to do with you and your daughter?”

  “They think that we are witches,” she cried.

  “What? That’s ridiculous! You’re a midwife and a nurse, not a witch.”

  “Yes, Sire. With my own hands did I draw you from your dear sweet mother’s womb.”

  The king paled a little as she held her hands out toward him. “Yes, yes, I know that. So why are you being accused of witchcraft? You haven’t been dabbling in anything...?”

  “No! It is because I am a midwife. Because I have some knowledge of the body and how it works that they accuse both me and my daughter. But we are innocent, Sire.”

  The king turned to Father du Lac. “There, you see? Innocents are being killed in the name of this witch hunt of yours. It’s got to stop, du Lac.”

  The old priest shook his head. “It is indeed a shame when such women are killed. They do a great service with their healing arts, but Sire, do we really know that they are not witches?”

  “What? Yes! Father, I am not a witch,” the woman exclaimed indignantly.

  He put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “I know, good woman, that you are not. And perhaps even your daughter, too, is innocent. But what of others? What do we know of them? How can we be sure?”

  The woman just stood in front of him. She didn’t have an answer. She turned back to the king. “Sire, you cannot allow innocent lives to be taken in this way,” she pleaded.

  “No, of course not. Inform Lord Belsworth that he is to draw up papers proclaiming the innocence of you and your daughter. You will be safe.”

  “And what of the other women? The other midwives who are being so accused?” she asked.

  “I will see to them, have no fear. Now go and do as I say.”

  The woman curtseyed low and withdrew from the room.

  The king turned back to his pri
est. “This cannot go on, Father. You see what is happening. Innocents are being killed.” He started toward the door himself. “I’ve got to put an end to this.”

  “Stop!” Father du Lac’s hand shot out and the king froze mid–step. Nimuë sighed. She hadn’t wanted it to come to this. She hadn’t wanted to take so much control over the king, if it were possible to avoid it. She had done so too often already. But it didn’t look as if this boy was going to be as amenable as she had hoped. No, there was nothing for it. She would have to maintain a tighter control over him.

  Strong magic laced through her voice. “You will not put an end to the witch hunts. You will leave them be. Recall some of the men you have sent out on the hunt to fight your battle with the Danes, but leave a good number to continue with this important work. Now, go and see to the return of just as many men as you feel are absolutely necessary to fight with the Danes and no more. The witch hunts must continue.”

  The king started moving again. When he got to the door, he paused and said, “What was it that I was going to do? Oh right, see that we’ll be prepared to fight when the Danes arrive. I shouldn’t need more than a few hundred. The rest can carry on with this witch hunt business. We must be a pure and Christian nation, is that not so, Father?”

  Father du Lac bowed as his king left the room.

  Chapter 7

  I just couldn’t do it. I’d seen Sir Dagonet fight three knights at once and win handily, joking all the while. The man was one of the knights of the Round Table! How could I, Dylan, squire to no one, fight this war–tested knight?

  Nearly every time I’d fought with Sir Dagonet at my side I’d felt embarrassed, inadequate—naturally. And now the man wanted to fight against me? Train with me? It would be too embarrassing. He’d see how sloppy a fighter I really was. He’d see all of my faults. Everything my foster brother had teased me about and thrown in my face. I couldn’t train with Sir Dagonet.

  “Dylan, I know that you can do this, my boy, wot?” Sir Dagonet chuckled. “Come on now, try just a bit harder for me.” The old man slashed his sword at me and then made a lunge for my heart.