I deflected his blade easily, but didn’t follow up as I knew I should have. Sir Dagonet had even left his defense down, waiting for me to make the blow, but I just couldn’t. I would do something wrong. I would show my lousy technique.
“I had hoped that you could give me a bit of a challenge, don’t you know?” Sir Dagonet said, clearly not ready to give up on prodding me into working harder.
“I’m sorry, sir, truly I am, but...” I deflected another blow from the old knight. “I just can’t. You’re... you’re...” I couldn’t tell the old man I was scared of him. What could I say?
Sir Dagonet pushed his attack further, forcing me to defend myself, but still, I didn’t retaliate. “I’m what? An old man? It’s true, but I’ve still got a little fight left in me, wot, wot?”
“Of course you do, sir. It’s not that at all. In fact, it’s quite the opposite,” I confessed.
“The opposite?” Sir Dagonet asked lunging and nearly putting his blade straight through my chest.
I blocked his attack. “Yes.”
The old knight stopped for a moment to try and figure this out. “What’s the opposite? Certainly not young, wot?” He laughed again.
“No, sir. But you’re...” I faltered. Before I knew what had happened, Sir Dagonet had the point of his sword pressing up against my heart.
“Come out with it, then, son. What am I?” Sir Dagonet asked.
I looked down at the blade that could so easily kill me. I swallowed and looked up at the kindly face. “You’re a knight of the Round Table! You’re the best swordsman I’ve ever seen—even better than my father who I’ve always thought was brilliant. And you do it with such ease,” I finished, jealousy and shame filling my voice.
Sir Dagonet took a step back, lowering his sword. I was shocked to see the old man’s cheeks flood with color. “Oh, well. I’m nothing compared with Lancelot and Galahad, I can tell you.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Be that as it may, sir, you’re still pretty amazing. I would just embarrass myself if I were to fight you.”
“Fiddlesticks.” He waved aside my fears as if they were nothing more than an annoying gnat. “I know you haven’t had much experience, and your training seems to have left a lot to be desired. But you’ve got a lot of innate talent and, even more importantly, a lot of heart. Now, prepare yourself!” Without a further word, the knight attacked once more.
I defended myself with more enthusiasm, bolstered by the knight’s kind words. There was still something nagging at me though. “It’s the heart that worries me, sir. My foster brother said—”
Sir Dagonet cut me off. “Safe to say that you can disregard just about anything your foster brother said, don’t you know. Never should have been in charge of your training. Did a pretty mediocre job of it, if not worse.”
He continued his attack, not leaving me even a moment to retaliate. “Come on, now.” Sir Dagonet prodded me with both his words and his sword. “I’m Lady Nimuë.” He thrust his blade forward. “I’m one of her ink creatures.” He swiped his sword inches from my nose. “Whatever you want to imagine me to be, just do it and attack. You’ll never get in the practice you need if you don’t, don’t you know?” Sir Dagonet finished with another lunge to my heart.
This one I blocked. We parried and thrust, jabbing at each other, finally truly working hard. To my amazement, Sir Dagonet didn’t pepper his fighting with insults and criticisms as my foster brother had always done whenever we’d sparred. The old man seemed to be working as hard as me, concentrating on using every technique, attacking from every angle. I began to sweat in the heat of the afternoon, my skin itching against my woolen tunic.
I focused on defending myself and fighting as best as I knew how. Still, I allowed my imagination to run free—it was Excalibur in my hands and Nimuë I faced. Sir Dagonet’s sword became her energy spheres thrown at me just as she had done when she’d attacked us at the tree that had held Merlin’s chalice. I shifted my sword left, right and sideways, catching the “spheres,” not allowing them to come near my body.
A slight letup in the attack allowed me to take the offensive, but a movement off to my side distracted me and I lost the advantage as quickly as I’d gained it.
I fought off the knight’s attack once again, but nearly got caught by his blade when out of the corner of my eye I saw a crowd of people just standing around, watching us.
“Ignore them, Dylan,” Sir Dagonet instructed.
“I can’t,” I protested, parrying again. “Who are they?”
“Don’t know. Concentrate now,” the knight said as he renewed his attack.
I blocked his blows and tried my hardest to concentrate on the fight at hand, but the crowd just seemed to be growing. I felt like they thought I was an actor there to provide entertainment for them.
Sir Dagonet shifted his weight, giving me an opening for an attack. But even as I struck out with my sword and backed the knight up a few paces, the crowd’s murmuring grew louder. Their emotions heightened and some even applauded.
Finally, I just dropped my sword and turned toward the people. There must have been thirty or more standing on the banks of the lake watching us.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I called out in exasperation.
The crowd grew quiet, just watching me. And then one stunning, dark–haired young woman worked her way through the clog of people. “Are they bothering you, Dylan?”
“Well, yes. I can’t concentrate while I’m being watched in this way.” I turned back to the crowd. “This isn’t a tournament. We’re not here for your entertainment. I’m trying to train.”
The woman turned to the people. “You heard him. Now go about your business.” She waved the people off. They sullenly shuffled off, like children being denied a treat.
As they went, the woman turned back to Sir Dagonet and me. “I apologize. I’ll try to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“Thank you,” I said. But then curiosity—and her unusual beauty—got the better of me. “Who are you?”
She smiled at me. “I am Morwen. Great–granddaughter to the Lady Morgan.”
“Oh! Like Scai and Bridget.”
“Well, they are a little further removed. They are the seventh generation descendants and through my cousin’s line. My grandfather was Mordred, son of Lady Morgan and King Arthur.”
“Ha! Thought I recognized you, wot?” Sir Dagonet exclaimed. “Have the family look, don’t you know?”
She turned to the knight, laughing. “Yes, so I’ve been told. It is an honor to meet you, Sir Dagonet. I’ve heard a great deal about you and the other esteemed knights of the Round Table from my grandfather.”
Sir Dagonet gave a little huff at that. “Not too keen on us, Mordred.”
Morwen nodded her head slightly, turning it to a thoughtful angle. “Certainly not in his youth, but when I was a child, he did remember you all rather fondly. Knew you to be the greatest warriors this country had ever seen.”
“Ought to have known that for certain. Beat him any number of times, don’t you know?”
“Yes, and I believe he remembered every single one.” She laughed.
Sir Dagonet nodded and gave a rueful laugh. “Suppose he did.”
“Well, now your audience is gone. I will allow you to get on with your training. You are a lucky young man, Dylan, to have the opportunity to train with such an excellent knight.”
I returned her smile. “I know it, my lady. And thank you for taking care of the crowd.”
Her eyes burned a shot excitement through me as she gave me one last look before turning away and retreating back toward the green.
I gave myself a little shake. I didn’t quite know what that was about, but I certainly felt a thrum of excitement through me as I remembered her look.
It took me more than a few moments to force my concentration back onto the fight with Sir Dagonet. Slowly I got back into it, though, and forced myself to work even harder. After speaking with
Morwen, I felt once again that I had to prove myself worthy of being trained by such a great knight. If I hadn’t known what an amazing knight Sir Dagonet was, it could have been easy to take the gentleman for granted, he was amazingly funny and easygoing. But now that I’d been reminded of his history, I knew I truly was honored to be training with him and worked hard to deserve it.
Sir Dagonet attacked. I parried. Back and forth we danced until, once again, I managed to get the upper hand. Swinging my blade in a wide arc, ready to take off the knight’s right arm, I began to attack. Deftly the knight defended himself.
“Dylan! Dylan!”
I pulled back as I caught bright red hair in my peripheral vision. My sword came much too close to slicing right through Bridget as she appeared at Sir Dagonet’s shoulder.
“Bridget! What do you think you’re doing?” I yelled. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever seen anyone do. I could have killed you!”
Bridget waved aside my anger with a brush of her hand and then held out a sword to me. “You would never do that. Here I...I made this for you.”
My chest was still heaving with fright and exertion. She had no idea how close that had been. If I had hurt her, I would never have been able to forgive myself. I took a deep breath and forced my emotions back behind my dam as I wiped the sweat from my eyes.
“Made that?” Sir Dagonet’s astonished voice forced me to pay attention to what Bridget had actually said.
I looked at the sword that lay in her outstretched hands. It wasn’t the finest sword I’d ever seen. In fact, it was rather rough and simple.
“Here, take it,” she urged, pressing it toward me.
“Where did you get it?” I asked, still a bit confused as my heart began to calm and my mind focus. I took the sword from her.
“I made it! That’s what Merlin has taught me. He calls it melding,” she explained. “I take the raw materials, add my fire magic to them, and mold them, or meld them, together to forge steel. I knew that you needed a new sword since yours broke fighting those creatures at the dock, so I made this for you.” She was clearly proud of herself, and she had every right to be.
“That’s amazing!” I had never heard of being able to forge steel with magic. I looked the sword over. It looked like an ordinary, if plain, sword. I looked from the sword to the beaming girl in front of me. “You made this.”
She nodded, giggling.
And then it occurred to me—that must have been how Excalibur had been made. That was why it was so strong. And now, here, in my hand, was another just like it! Well, it was, naturally, very rough compared to the legendary sword, but it was Bridget’s first attempt at this new magic. But the sword had to be strong. It had to be incredibly powerful. It was magic–made.
And the fact that the first thing Bridget had made with her new, special magic was a sword for me touched me a more deeply than I would ever freely admit.
“Well?” Bridget’s voice prodded me from my thoughts. Her glowing face waiting for my verdict of her present.
I weighed the sword in my hand. “It has excellent balance,” I said.
“This is good?”
“Very good. It’s not much to look at, but for your first attempt, I think it’s fantastic. Thank you, Bridget.”
She flushed a pretty pink and bobbed me a little curtsey. “You’re welcome.”
“Let’s see how it plays,” Sir Dagonet said, taking a step back. “Stand back, now, Bridget.”
I tossed aside the sword the priestesses of Avalon had lent me, and gave a practice swing with the new sword before Sir Dagonet made his attack.
Very quickly I had to defend myself from Sir Dagonet’s blows, which, after even such a long spar and brief rest, were coming fast and furious. I parried and sliced, working hard to keep the knight to a safe distance.
My mind was churning around and around, even while I fought. A sword of my very own—made just for me. My own Excalibur! The excitement of it drove me onward, giving me energy and a feeling of... well, invincibility.
I laughed as I took the offensive. With my very own sword—it needed a name! Valiant, or Vallence.
I advanced on Sir Dagonet, who parried my thrusts with expertise until, with a resounding crack, the sword broke close to the hilt. The blade went flying, imbedding itself vertically in the ground a few feet from where we stood.
“Oh, no!” Bridget cried.
Sir Dagonet stepped away. “Good thing I wasn’t on the attack; you could have been hurt.”
I nodded, breathing hard and very grateful indeed. But the feeling of severe disappointment that surged through me ended with a sharp jab straight into my core. This was not Excalibur. It wasn’t even close.
Bridget was trying to pry the blade from the ground when Sir Dagonet strode over to her. “Here, let me.” He gave a great heave with his gauntleted hand.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the blade. “Oh, Dylan, I am so sorry.”
My pain dissolved into a cold anger. “This is now the fourth blade to break at my hand. So much for this one being special or any stronger than the others. It was even worse.” I thrust the hilt of the sword back at her, trying to contain my hurt.
Bridget took it and a step back, away from me. “I’m...I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you should be. What good is a sword that breaks when you actually fight with it?”
“It’s the first one I’ve ever made!” she said, her own anger spiking in retaliation to mine.
“Yes, well, that’s clear.”
“Dylan!” Sir Dagonet’s shocked tone hardly registered in my mind.
“I’d like to see you do better,” Bridget threw back at me.
“No, I would like to see you do better.” We were preparing for a fight for our very lives. Anything less than perfect was simply unacceptable. “You’ve got to do better, Bridget,” I said unequivocally. “Shoddy work like this isn’t going to save us from Nimuë; it’s going to ensure that she wins. And if she wins, we’re dead.”
“I’m doing my best!”
“Well, that’s clearly not good enough. You must be perfect. I expect nothing less.” I shoved aside the nagging voice in my mind that told me I was sounding exactly like my foster brother.
“What? The very first time?”
“Yes, you...”
“All right, now, that is quite enough.” Sir Dagonet stepped between us. “Quite enough, wot? This is Bridget’s first try,” he told me. “I am certain that she’ll improve with practice, Dylan. You’ve got to give her a little time.”
“But we don’t have the time, sir. She’s got to get it right. She’s got to get it perfect!”
“She will. A little patience, my boy.” The old man put a calming hand on my shoulder.
I knew he was right, but it wasn’t good enough. I had never been allowed to fail without a sound thrashing when I’d studied to be a knight. Why should Bridget get off any easier?
Because what she was doing was not only difficult, it was nearly impossible, the nagging voice inside whispered. I paused at that and took a deep breath to calm myself.
I was probably being over–anxious about Nimuë. She couldn’t hurt us while we were here on Avalon. We were here to learn, after all. I had to remember this and give Bridget the benefit of the doubt. But my fears—and my hurt from my last meeting with Lady Nimuë—were still sharp. I wiped away the sweat from my face.
“You’re right. You’re both right. I’m sorry, Bridget. It was fine for a first try. I...I’m certain the next one will be better, and if that one breaks, you’ll try again until you make the strongest sword you can.”
Bridget took a small step closer. Nodding her head, she accepted my apology. “I will do better. You’ll see. I’ll make you a sword that will drive Nimuë to her knees.”
“Well, don’t want her on her knees, now, do we?” Sir Dagonet laughed.
I smiled. “No. We want her dead. And that’s just what Bridget’s sword in my hands will achieve.”
~~~~~
I stood with my feet planted firmly under me. Concentrating on the water of the lake, I slowly rolled it forward, starting from the far side. By the time the wave was halfway across, it was ten feet high.
Yes! This was definitely the biggest one I’d made so far. Now, to calm it down. I concentrated, lowering the level of my magic. Slowly, slowly.
“Dylan. I knew I would find you here.”
I nearly lost control of the wave. At the last moment, I gave it a firm push back, so that it didn’t slam into me. Instead, it sent waves roiling in the other direction, tossing water up on to the opposite shore.
I breathed a quick sigh of relief and then spun around. “What is it? Can’t you see I’m...” I stopped as soon as I realized it was a bemused–looking Morwen I was chastising. I swallowed the rush of embarrassment that surged up my throat. “I’m sorry, Lady Morwen, I didn’t realize who I was speaking to.”
“It’s quite all right.” She laughed. “I’m sorry I disturbed your concentration.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine.” If only I could have rolled away to the opposite shore just as the water had.
“I just came down to see if I couldn’t lend you any assistance.”
“Really?” I asked. I winced at how stupid I sounded. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I mean, that’s very kind of you, my lady.”
She laughed again. “Really, Dylan, you don’t need to be so formal with me. I may be Lady Morgan’s great–granddaughter, but really I’m here to learn and train, just like you.”
“You are? Here to train? For what?” I couldn’t help asking.
She gave a nonchalant shrug. “To be a better Vallen. Isn’t it the duty of all Vallen to be the best we can so that we can help ordinary people?”
“I suppose.” I hadn’t really ever thought about what other Vallen did.
“We are not all destined for greatness as you are,” she said with a smile.
“I may be destined for it, but it will take a great deal more training before I can attain it,” I answered honestly.
“Well, you seem to be doing an excellent job of it.” She nodded toward the lake. The water had now calmed. It lay as smooth as glass, as if I hadn’t just been creating enormous waves just a few minutes ago.
Children of Avalon Page 33