Children of Avalon

by Meredith Bond

  Nothing. The word echoed through my mind. Through my heart. It seemed to whisper from the waterfall and from the very grass on which I stood. With nothing in my heart, I pulled off my boots and dove into the water to rebuild my wall before my emotions could attack.

  Chapter 9

  “Dylan, I need to have a word with you.”

  I sighed. I’d known Morwen would come and find me here. I’d almost gone to a different part of the island to train that morning just to avoid her, but the lake was really the easiest and most comfortable place for me—and I wasn’t going to let her dictate where I worked. I pushed the wave I had been building back against the opposite shore and then turned around to face the alluring priestess.

  I stopped for a minute, however. Somehow, this morning, she didn’t seem as beautiful or exciting. I didn’t know if it was the expression of annoyance on her face or the fact that I’d been with Scai last night. Whatever it was, Morwen just wasn’t as attractive to me today as she had been.

  “You ignored me last night,” she accused me. “And then you disappeared early—with Scai,” she added, her eyes snapping with anger.

  “Yes, we came here. She was helping me practice the magic Merlin taught me.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me? You know I would have been more than happy to help you.”

  “I know. It’s just that I’ve known Scai longer and felt more comfortable asking her. I hope you don’t mind,” I added, remembering that Morwen was actually a very powerful Vallen—not only magically, but she was Lady Morgan’s granddaughter. I really didn’t want to offend either Morwen or Lady Morgan. Morwen was very close to her grandmother and Scai, Bridget, and I owed Lady Morgan a great deal for hosting us and ensuring that we were safe from Lady Nimuë.

  Morwen crossed her arms and gave me a little frown, but the corners of her lips were twitching with a smile that clearly wanted to show itself, and I could sense that she was no longer angry. “Well, I suppose I could forgive you.” She came closer. Very close. Sliding her hand up my chest, she said, “Scai is off the island today.”

  “Yes, I know. She mentioned to me last night that she would be gone.” I wasn’t sure if I should step away from this intimate gesture, or if she would take that as an insult as well. She was definitely feeling amorous. I resisted the pull of her emotion, and instead moved my body back away from her a bit without fully taking a step away.

  She followed, however, now swirling her hand behind my neck and entangling her fingers in my hair. “You could make it up to me, you know.”

  I swallowed, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Tingles from what she was doing ran all down my traitorous body. How could I be affected by her when I knew that I was in love with Scai? When I’d made such sweet love to her only last night? I had no feelings for Morwen, and yet I could feel myself growing hard. It made no sense whatsoever.

  “Make it up to you? How?” I asked. I wished she would just go away and leave me to my training.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Her gaze flowed all around us, taking in the lake and then coming to a halt at the waterfall. “How about that?” she asked, nodding her head toward it.

  “The waterfall?”

  She laughed. “No, silly, the chalice. You’ve told me how you can feel the power within it whenever you hold it. Do you think I could hold it? I’d love to feel such power.” Her voice had slipped down into an intimate whisper, but it seemed her feelings had shifted.

  “You want to hold it?”

  She looked up at me from under her lashes and nodded.

  “Just hold it?” I confirmed.

  She smiled.

  I shrugged. That would be better than whatever else she might have had on her mind. I could remain faithful to Scai and make Morwen happy, too. Slipping past her, I walked to where the chalice sat in a little nook next to the waterfall. I supposed it couldn’t hurt to let her hold it. It was a remarkable sensation feeling all that power.

  I was just reaching for the chalice when a wave of triumph washed over me. It definitely came from behind me. My hand stopped. Triumph? I turned around to see Morwen right behind me, a look of anticipation and excitement on her face. Something wasn’t right. Why would she feel triumphant at the prospect of holding the chalice?

  I stepped back away from the chalice and the waterfall. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m sorry. Perhaps we can go for a walk in the woods or practice fighting.”

  “No!” she snapped. “I want the chalice. I want to hold it,” she corrected. She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she calmed her emotions. “Please, Dylan,” she crooned.

  I just shook my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I can’t take it out without the others here.”

  “Not even for me?” She stepped closer, walking her fingers up my chest.

  I wrapped my hand around hers to stop its progress. “No. I’m sorry, Morwen. No one is allowed to hold the chalice, but the girls, Lady Morgan, and myself. I don’t even think Sir Dagonet can touch it.”

  Morwen snatched her hand away and took two steps back. A ring of fire sprang up, encircling me. “You are a selfish, weak little boy,” she snarled. “You don’t deserve the gifts you’ve been given.”

  All I could do for a moment was stare at this woman and try to figure out who she was. I’d never seen anyone change like that. One minute she was soft and sweet with gentle emotions flowing through her, and the next, without even changing form, she was a nasty she–devil with fire spitting from her eyes.

  The flames burned my feet, reaching up so high as to lick at the bottom of my tunic. I began to shove Morwen’s anger behind my wall and pull on the water from the lake to put out the fire, but then I stopped. This was the perfect opportunity to try out my new powers in a real situation. Instead of pushing her anger deeper inside myself, I let it go. I let her anger wash over and through me, and then caught hold of it. Staring deeply into her eyes, I said to her one word—

  “Fear.” And willed her to envision the most terrifying thing she’d ever experienced.

  Her anger disappeared in a flash. She took a step back, her eyes growing wide as her vision turned inward. But she gave a shake of her head to clear it, and stepped forward. The flames around me rose once again.

  My magic wasn’t strong enough! She’d broken through my suggestion too easily.

  It was because I’d used her own anger against her, I realized, and it wasn’t strong enough. I needed stronger emotions. More energy. Stronger magic. I knew just where to get it.

  Dropping my emotional wall—I was getting fast at breaking it down and recreating it—I blinked back my own tears as the pain from Scai’s rejection the night before flooded me, filling me with power. Harnessing the searing pain, I caught Morwen’s eyes once again. “Sadness. Deep, painful, intense sadness.”

  It was what I had felt when Scai had said that we should just be friends. After I had poured my soul and all of my love into her—and she had rejected me. It had been all I could do to shove all of that pain inside of me.

  I used it now. I shifted it from myself into Morwen.

  She doubled over. Holding her hands to either side of her face, she screamed and cried as if the world were coming to an end. The fire around me disappeared. Morwen took one more look at me and ran, still screaming, from the lake back toward the village.

  I collapsed onto the ground, empty. All of my energy, all of my emotion was gone. I’d shoved it all into Morwen.

  Within a minute, Bridget, Sir Dagonet, and Lady Morgan came running toward me.

  “Wot, wot?” Sir Dagonet panted.

  “What happened, Dylan?” Lady Morgan asked.

  Bridget was about to add her own question, but I held up my hand to stop her. “It’s all right. Or well, it will be, I guess, in a few minutes when Morwen’s visions disappear,” I said with a tinge of embarrassment. It was an odd sensation being embarrassed and immensely proud at the same time. I had wielded my new power—and it worked! So
much for not doing anything to harm my relationship with Lady Morgan.

  I confessed to the Lady what I had done after explaining why—trying to describe Morwen’s advances as delicately as possible.

  “I knew she was up to no good,” Bridget declared.

  Lady Morgan pursed her lips, but said nothing.

  “You did well, son,” Sir Dagonet said, giving my shoulder a pat. “Shame you gave her such a fright, but you did what you had to do, wot, wot?”

  “Something will be done about this, I assure you,” Lady Morgan said, then turned and walked away.

  I gave Sir Dagonet a worried look. “I hope I didn’t create too much trouble.”

  “What?” Bridget screeched. “How could defending the chalice cause trouble? That Morwen was trouble. I knew it from the minute we met her. I knew she was up to something. I mean, really, spending so much time with you—helping you train?”

  Ouch. I narrowed my eyes at Bridget. “You don’t think that someone would want to be with me and help me just because?”

  “No, but I think it’s odd for a woman her age to be interested in you. She’s too old for you, Dylan. Something had to be wrong with the way she was behaving.”

  “Well, she’s got a point there, don’t you know?” Sir Dagonet agreed.

  “Well, maybe.” I hated to agree with her, but I supposed she was right.

  Bridget made a face of disbelief at me.

  “Oh, all right,” I admitted grudgingly. “Maybe, in hindsight, it was a little strange.”

  Sir Dagonet laughed and clapped me on the shoulder again. “Kinda liked all that attention from her, didn’t you?”

  I shrugged and tried to hide the smile that was creeping on to my lips. “Of course I liked it. Morwen is a beautiful woman. Who wouldn’t like attention from her?”

  “Okay, thank you, I’ve heard enough,” Bridget said making a quick exit.

  ~~~~~

  “Very clever, Nimue.”

  Nimue looked over at the silver bowl filled with water from Avalon she always kept on her table. “I’m sorry, sister?”

  “I said that was very clever.” Morgan’s face hovered in the water, frowning up at her. The sweet scent of Avalon tickled Nimuë’s nose as she leaned over the water, bringing with it a longing for home.

  “Thank you. What was?” Nimuë asked.

  “Sending Morwen to steal the chalice. But it didn’t work. Dylan is more clever than you thought.” She allowed a small smile to briefly lift one side of her lips.

  “Morwen?” Did that idiot mess things up? She should have never trusted that girl.

  “Please, don’t play dumb with me,” Morgan scoffed.

  “I assure you, I am not. Whoever Morwen is, I applaud her efforts, but I’m sorry to say that I had nothing to do with her attempts to steal the chalice. If I did, do you really think that she would have failed?” Hopefully, the girl hadn’t directly implicated her.

  Morgan was silent for a moment, obviously thinking this through. “Then you claim to have no knowledge of this?”

  “No. What did this person do?”

  “Morwen is my great–granddaughter and one of my priestesses,” Morgan explained. “She wheedled her way close to Dylan and today attempted to convince him to give her the chalice.”

  “Really? Your great–granddaughter? Who knew a descendent of yours could be so stupid?” Nimuë laughed.

  Morgan pursed her lips, but said nothing.

  “But really, Morgan, do you think that I would ever do anything so very obvious? So straightforward? The girl was working on her own.”

  Morgan sighed. “Yes, I suppose that is true. Very well, I apologize for accusing you for being behind this. You are right. You do prefer to do things in a more—shall we say—roundabout way?”

  “I prefer ‘clever’, if you don’t mind. And your apology is accepted. So I assume the chalice is still safe with you?”

  “It is protected.”

  “Hmm, shame.” This would take a little bit of thought—but not much. Already a plan was forming in Nimuë’s mind.

  Nimuë waved a hand over the water, making the image of her sister disappear. First she had to speak with that idiot, Morwen.

  Another wave of her hand and she was staring at the ceiling of the priestess’s bedroom. She could hear sniffling and a few intermittent sobs as if the girl was crying. Thank goodness it sounded as if the worst was over. She hated weeping females.

  “Morwen,” Nimuë snapped.

  Another sniff, and then Morwen came into view. “Lady Nimuë!”

  “I just had a lovely talk with my sister,” she informed the girl.

  “Oh.” A tear dropped into her bowl of water, sending ripples across the surface. The reflection of Nimuë’s face undulated.

  “She told me about your stupidity.”

  “I am so sorry, my lady.” The girl sniffed. “I tried, but it went all wrong. Somehow he knew. He knew what I wanted.”

  “He’s an empath, idiot. He could read your emotions. You didn’t hide them, did you?”

  The girl opened her mouth and then closed it again before shaking her head miserably.

  Nimuë said a few choice words under her breath.

  “I’m so sorry, my lady. I forgot. He’s associated with water,” she reminded herself.

  “I have told my sister that I knew nothing of your plan. If you say one word contrary to that, you will find yourself in a very uncomfortable position. Do you understand me?”

  “Uncomfortable?” the girl was stupid enough to ask.

  “I can be very creative—which, obviously, you cannot,” Nimuë explained.

  The girl swallowed visibly. “No, ma’am.”

  “Then we understand each other.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. I will take care of this myself, as always.” Nimuë sighed, before waving her hand over the water once more.

  Chapter 10

  “Good afternoon, Nimuë.”

  The voice made Nimuë jump. Where had it come from? She was alone, or so she had thought. She looked around the lake and peered into the thin line of trees that encroached on the far side. But there was no one there.

  “I cannot see you, but I know you are there,” the voice said again.

  Nimuë spun around toward the waterfall. It had come from that direction. Slowly she began to move toward—the chalice!

  The chalice was there. It was just sitting there on a niche in the hill next to the waterfall. It fit so perfectly it almost looked as if the rock had been carved out just for the chalice. It belonged there.

  Except that the chalice belonged with her.

  “Do not attempt to come too close,” the voice warned as she got nearer.

  “Why not?” Nimuë asked.

  “The chalice is protected. Only the Children of Avalon may touch it.”

  “Morgan?”

  “Yes, she built a protective barrier.”

  Nimuë stopped a few feet away. “I should have guessed. She would not leave something so precious where there was a chance that I might find it.”

  “Naturally.”

  And with that one word from the voice, Nimuë stopped breathing for a moment. Her chest began heaving, but she couldn’t catch her breath. Spots danced in front of her eyes, and she reached out a hand to steady herself.

  Naturally.

  It was what Merlin had said every time she’d told him that she loved him. It was what Merlin had said when she had suggested that they picnic deep in the woods, oh, so many years ago. And it was what Merlin had said just before she had entrapped him into that Hawthorne tree.

  He had known what she was doing and he’d accepted it. He loved her and he accepted his fate as the natural order of things.

  Naturally, she couldn’t help herself. Naturally, she was only doing this because she loved him. Naturally, they would be together again and for always. Naturally.

  Nimuë closed her eyes and pictured him. His gray scraggly hair. His be
ard so long he would tickle her with it. His beautiful, wise, kind, and loving weathered face.

  Naturally.

  “Merlin.” Her voice came out more as a whisper as she still sought to catch her breath.

  “Yes, Nimuë, it is I.”

  “Oh, Merlin!” Her voice stronger this time, but still tearful despite her efforts.

  “I have missed you, my love.”

  A tear burned down her cheek. “And I have missed you.”

  “It is nearly time.”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath, her heart finally beginning to slow to a normal pace. “I shall attain my destiny. I have been working hard, consolidating my power. The king is under my control. And even now, those who still remember the old days, the old ways, they are being killed by his men. It is only those children who stand in my way. As soon as they are taken care of...”

  “Nimuë,” Merlin said, his voice beginning to sound tired. “We will be together. That is what is meant to be.”

  “Yes.” Nimuë’s eyes shot open. The chalice glowed softly white against the dark gray stone of the hillside. “We will be together. I will make it so.”

  “Good. I know that I can count on you.”

  “Never will I allow us to separate again. Oh, Merlin, how I have missed you.” The words came straight from her heart. She could not have poured more love into them if she had tried. Tears threatened her again, but she blinked them back.

  They would be together. She and Merlin would be as one, as they had sworn to each other so many, many years ago, when they had held their own private hand–fasting. No one—not those children, not Morgan, not anyone would be able to tear them apart.

  A clank and a man’s groan caught her attention.

  Dylan stood at the far end of the lake. She watched as he dropped to his knees next to his sword and leaned out over the water. Greedily, he scooped up the crystal–clear water, drinking his fill, and then splashed it over his head.

  And here was her answer. Nimuë smiled. She’d been waiting for him. Morwen may have failed to get the chalice from Dylan, but she wouldn’t.