Children of Avalon

by Meredith Bond

  And then it would be hers, forever. Merlin and she would never be apart again.

  She began walking toward the boy, changing into her sister’s form as she did so. “Dylan, how goes your practicing?”

  Dylan started and nearly fell into the lake. “Oh! Lady Morgan, I didn’t see you there.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just conversing with Merlin.”

  Dylan nodded. “Is he planning more lessons for us?”

  “No,” she said, perhaps too quickly. “No. The lessons are finished.”

  Dylan nodded. “Then, I suppose it is up to us to perfect what we have learned.”

  “Yes. Of course, all three of you are powerful Vallen. I have faith you will do well. I am more concerned about the safety of the chalice at this moment.”

  Dylan nodded. “But what more can we do to keep it safe, my lady?”

  Nimuë smiled. It was exactly the opening she’d wanted. “I believe it would be best if you gave it to me. I can ensure its safety.”

  A frown marred the boy’s handsome face. “Are you certain, my lady? I beg your pardon, but where would you keep it? Wouldn’t your home be the first place someone would look for it?”

  Nimuë looked off toward the lake. He had sound reasoning. Of course. He was her descendent; he was too smart. She stared at the water of the lake, as smooth as glass. The answer broke the surface of her thoughts.

  She turned back to the boy. “You are right, and that is why we are not going to keep it in my house. We’re going to keep it right here.” She nodded toward the water.

  Dylan followed her eyes. “In the lake?”

  “Yes. Could there possibly be a more secure place than with the the Keeper of Excalibur?”

  She heard him take a quick intake of breath at the name of King Arthur’s sword and another idea snapped into place molding itself to the first one. “The Lady can’t hold on to two objects at once, though,” she said, making things up as she went along. “If you give her the chalice, she will in turn, give you the sword.”

  She turned toward the boy, working hard to keep her emotions well masked and the triumph from her voice. It was clear from the expression of awe on the child’s face that she had him.

  “I couldn’t possibly think of anyone else who is better suited to wield that sword just now,” she added.

  Dylan turned to look at her, his eyes wide. “Are you serious? I would be allowed...allowed to borrow it?”

  She smiled broadly, hardly able to keep her glee masked, as she nodded.

  But his frown returned. “But wasn’t Excalibur made by Lady Nimuë?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, well, I don’t know how the magic in the sword behaves, but is it possible for me to actually use it against her?”

  “Ahh. I see what you are thinking, and that is very clever of you to think of that. However, when the sword was made I... I believe my sister never actually thought it would ever be turned against her. She never put any magic into it to protect herself from it. In fact, Excalibur may be the only sword powerful enough to actually kill Nimuë.”

  ”Really?”

  “Indeed.” She nodded. “Now, if you would just fetch the chalice...”

  The boy was heading toward it before she could even finish her sentence. Oh, really, that was almost too easy.

  Dylan returned to her side in less than a moment, the chalice cradled in his hands. She could not hide the smile from her lips as she threw her arm out toward the lake and willed the sword to appear.

  Both she and Dylan turned toward the water and watched as, ever so slowly, the point of Excalibur cut through the surface of the lake. It rose into the air, straight and true, until the entire beautiful piece was above the surface of the water. The hand of the Keeper of Excalibur held the weapon aloft so that its blade caught and reflected the sunlight. Its brilliance was dazzling.

  ~~~~~

  I could feel my mouth fall open at the sight of the sword—the great Excalibur— rising from the water. I had to have that sword. It was mine! This was my dream. It was exactly as I had dreamt so many weeks ago when we had embarked on this journey. This was the sword with which I could make my father proud, there was no question about it. And it was the only weapon strong enough to kill Lady Nimuë.

  I turned toward Lady Morgan. She was watching me, smiling in that serene way she had.

  “May I truly borrow it?” I asked, unable to keep the awe from my voice.

  She nodded. “In exchange for the chalice.”

  Of course. The chalice would be safest here, under the lake. Had the Keeper of Excalibur not kept this magnificent weapon safe for over two hundred years? Naturally, she would keep the chalice just as safe.

  I turned to look at Lady Morgan to make certain that I was doing the right thing. She gave a small nod of her head.

  The hand with the sword in it had disappeared back down into the depths of the lake.

  I took one last look at the chalice. It shimmered with magic stronger than anything I had ever encountered. There could be no safer place to keep it.

  With a deep breath, I cocked my arm back and threw the chalice toward the center of the lake. End over end, it tumbled through the air. Time seemed to stand still as I watched it fly. The hand appeared, snatching it out of the air with a snap. Too quickly it sank once again into the depths of the water.

  And then I waited. I waited and watched, tension knotting my stomach. What if I’d been tricked? What if the Lady didn’t give me the sword?

  Well, at least the chalice would be safe. How could anyone get it from the Keeper of Excalibur? You had to have a special connection to her, one which, clearly, Lady Morgan had. I tried to remember the legend of the sword and how King Arthur got it, but for some reason I didn’t recall Lady Morgan being there. She must have been, though, if she was able to command the Lady now.

  Finally, the sword slowly began to reappear. I let out my breath as I watched it rise from the water.

  Another nod from the lady and I walked with as much patience as I could muster over to the small rowboat that was always kept docked by the side of the lake. It took just a few swift strokes to reach the hand, take the sword, and return to the shore.

  Oddly enough, Lady Morgan was gone when I got there. But Excalibur was mine. Mine!

  I couldn’t help myself. I drew the weapon from its scabbard and took two test swipes before examining it. It was beyond beautiful. This was a sword of kings. Well, King Arthur, to be exact. No one else had ever wielded it, and it had been thought that no one would.

  Only now, it was mine. I almost felt overcome with emotion. Knights did not cry! I swallowed hard, and blinked my eyes clear again.

  I would take this great and magical sword and do what I was destined to do. It was the weapon I’d needed to fulfill my destiny.

  I ran back to my room to gather my few things together. For once, I wished I controlled the power of the air. Then I could do as Merlin had taught Scai and run with the wind. She could travel miles in hardly more than the blink of an eye.

  But no, I would have to travel the ordinary way—on horseback. But, at least, I wouldn’t need a boat to go back to the mainland. I could easily swim the distance, and since I was going alone I could travel so much faster.

  Since I was going alone?

  The thought stopped me. Shouldn’t I wait for Scai to return? Shouldn’t I even tell Bridget and Sir Dagonet I was leaving, and where I was going?

  But the sword was mine. It had been given to me. Surely, this task was mine alone. Lady Morgan had practically said so, hadn’t she?

  I stepped out of the men’s dormitory, my bag over my shoulder, Excalibur in its scabbard firmly buckled around my hips. They would forgive me. Once I came back with Lady Nimuë’s remains they would not only understand but also celebrate my strength, my bravery, my...

  “Dylan!”

  Bridget’s voice stopped me cold.

  “Dylan, I have another sword,” she said, her words trailing of
f at the end as she approached me and took in the bag on my shoulder.

  “Hey ho, Dylan, Bridget!” Sir Dagonet’s voice made me turn back in the direction I had just come.

  “Why do you have your bag? Where are you going?” Bridget asked, forcing me to turn and face her.

  “I, er...I was just coming to find you,” I said thinking fast. I pulled Excalibur from its scabbard. “Look!”

  She did, exclaiming, “That’s a beautiful sword! Where did you get it?”

  “That’s Excalibur!” Sir Dagonet said, coming closer. His frown caught me off guard. I would have thought that he’d be as excited to see the sword as I was.

  “Yes. Lady Morgan just gave it to me. She said I should take it. She said it was the only thing that could kill Lady Nimuë.”

  “She gave you Excalibur?” Bridget’s eyes widened. “To kill Lady Nimuë?” She looked back at my bag. “You were just going to leave, weren’t you?”

  I swallowed. I could feel the anger building in Bridget. Thank goodness there were no wooden buildings around. The last time I saw her really angry, she burned down the inn where I was staying.

  “I said I was coming to find you... to tell you,” I lied again. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. I had been considering it when she’d found me.

  “Dylan wouldn’t leave without us, wot?” Sir Dagonet blustered out while eyeing Bridget a little nervously.

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “What’s this about leaving?” Lady Morgan said, approaching the three of them. “Why, Dylan...” she stopped, her voice petering out as her eyes focused on Excalibur. She paled noticeably and waves of anxiety began pouring from her.

  “Where did you get... who gave you Excalibur?” the lady asked, her voice so quiet it sent chills down my spine.

  “What? Why, you did, just now.” Was it her anxiety that was slipping through me, or was this feeling my own?

  Lady Morgan slowly shook her head. “I have been in the temple with my priestesses since morning.” She lifted her eyes from the sword and looked straight into mine. “I think we should discuss this in private.”

  The power of her eyes. The power of her voice. I had no choice but to follow her as she turned and strode across the green to her private residence.

  Sir Dagonet and Bridget followed, their presence behind me both comforting and nerve–wracking.

  We followed her straight into an all–white drawing room. I hadn’t been in her home before, and felt extremely uncomfortable, as if I were invading some place very private and personal.

  As we all entered the room, she spun around to face me. “Now, tell me exactly what happened, from the very beginning.”

  “But... you don’t remember?” This was strange. How could she not know?

  She shook her head. “Just tell me.”

  And so I did. I told her how she had met me at the lake and asked about my lessons. When I told her about her offer to trade the chalice for the sword neither Bridget nor Sir Dagonet could remain silent.

  “What?” Sir Dagonet exclaimed.

  “You didn’t! You wouldn’t!” Bridget cried.

  A horrible feeling was growing in the pit of my stomach, but I defended myself. I had to. “She said it was the safest place for it. No one will be able to take it from the Keeper of Excalibur. No one would even think to look for it there.” I turned back to the Lady Morgan whose face was serious, but unreadable. Even her emotions were masked from me.

  “That’s what you said,” I repeated. “You said there was no place safer than with the Lady.”

  When she didn’t answer, I had to swallow the bile that was coming up from my stomach. I turned back to Bridget and Sir Dagonet. “She told me Excalibur might be the only sword strong enough to kill Lady Nimuë—a sword of her own making.”

  I turned back and forth, knowing that I was becoming ever more frantic, but I couldn’t help it. Lady Morgan was giving me no help here. If fact, she was behaving as if she hadn’t even been there.

  Sparks were coming off of Bridget, but so far, she had managed to hold her tongue. I worked hard to let her anger flow through me as I’d been practicing, but with so much raw emotion I was having a hard time of it. I was glad I’d put my wall back up after dealing with Morwen. I dreaded the moment she unlocked her lips and let out all that she clearly wanted to say.

  “It wasn’t me,” Lady Morgan whispered after what felt like much too long. She didn’t need to say it louder. It screamed in my ears and through my heart. “I do not own Excalibur. It is not mine to give you.”

  “But... but then... who...” I desperately wished I didn’t already know the answer to that question.

  “Lady Nimuë.” The words came out more as a groan from Sir Dagonet than a name.

  I turned to look at him. “No! That can’t be. It was Lady Morgan.” It couldn’t have happened again. I didn’t believe it. She wouldn’t have... I had been her victim the last time.

  “No, Dylan. I am sorry,” Lady Morgan was saying, but I could barely hear her for roar in ears.

  My knees gave out from under me and I dropped on the white rug.

  “Must’ve put on a glamour,” Sir Dagonet said as if the weight of the world had just descended onto his shoulders.

  “No!” I looked up at her in desperation. “Lady Morgan, I saw you. I mean, it was you...” I was certain that I was going to vomit all over her beautiful white room.

  But the lady just stood there, shaking her head, her eyes dull with grief.

  I looked up at Sir Dagonet. He looked as if he was going to cry. Never had I seen the knight so upset. No! The man always had a smile. He always had a joke. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

  Bridget exploded. “I can’t believe you traded the chalice for a sword! How stupid could you be? After all that we’ve done to get that chalice, you just threw it away. And where, where in the prophecy does it mention Excalibur? Would you tell me that? Where does it mention any sword at all? What in the world made you think you needed it so much that you would throw away the chalice? I just can’t believe—”

  “Bridget, stop now. You will soon be setting my entire home on fire.” Lady Morgan’s voice, gentle as always, cut through Bridget’s tirade like a knife.

  I dropped my head into my hands. I could feel Sir Dagonet step closer to me, backing away from Bridget. It was wise not to stand too close to her when she was like this. I could hear Lady Morgan moving about—probably putting out little fires Bridget was inadvertently setting with her anger. Thank goodness, the lady was able to stop her, or else we would be running for our lives, just as we had the last time Bridget had lost her temper.

  I stole a glance up. Bridget’s chest was heaving, but she had stopped. Her anger was still sparking from her eyes, but the sparks had, at least stopped flying from her. The pain and anger within her hadn’t dulled though. I could feel my own heart pounding with it. I took a deep breath and pushed it aside, my own anger and shame returning a little strength to me.

  At least my stomach no longer felt as if it was going to rebel, but I almost wished that one of the sparks from Bridget’s outburst had landed on me. I wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by the ground, or annihilated in some way. I wanted to disappear. Or for the ability to turn back time—to do it all over again. Only the next time I would see the truth in front of my eyes instead of just what I’d wanted to see. Next time I would think for a moment as to how and why Lady Morgan would encourage me to throw away the chalice and how she could give me Excalibur when I knew it wasn’t hers to give. The sword belonged to Nimuë. Only she could have called it forth from the lake. I knew that. I should have remembered. I should have... But all the “should haves” in the world weren’t going to bring the chalice back or change what I’d done.

  In the awkward silence of the moment, there was knock on the door.

  Who could that be? Who would come to Lady Morgan’s home at a time like this? Who else knew the horrendous mistake I had made?


  Footsteps moved toward the door. There was a muffle of female voices and then a moment later Scai stood in the doorway.

  I didn’t know what I’d expected—Nimuë perhaps? But the sight of Scai standing there, looking as she always did, bright and smiling, just made everything much, much worse.

  “Scai.” The word came out like groan. I shouldn’t have, for she immediately lost her smile as she turned her eyes on me. If I could have left at that moment with any sort of dignity, I would have.

  Well, it wouldn’t matter. In a moment she would know the truth and then she would be the one to leave. She would be the one to turn her back on me—and rightfully so. In just the very few minutes that it would take the others to tell her what had happened, she would go from liking me to hating me with equal intensity. And it would be well deserved. I supposed it didn’t matter any more how I felt about her. It was just as well she’d rejected me the night before, because she was about to truly despise now me anyway.

  Bridget was on her sister in a moment. “And where have you been? Off to see your precious Father again?”

  Scai took a step back. She opened her mouth to answer, but Bridget cut her off before she even had the chance.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Bridget snapped. “I don’t even want to know.”

  Scai paled in the face of her sister’s anger. Her eyes drifted to Sir Dagonet and then to me. “Is there something wrong?”

  I couldn’t even look at her. I dropped my gaze to the floor and kept it there while Bridget told her, only, of course, she didn’t use the sword’s name, referring to it as “that stupid sword.”

  I could only bear to hear such a magnificent weapon being referred to in that way so many times. The third time she began to say it, I stood up, interrupting her. “Excalibur! It is Excalibur. It is not just some stupid sword.”

  Bridget turned and glared at me. “Fine. Excalibur,” she repeated in an unpleasant tone of voice. “He thinks Excalibur is the only weapon that can kill Nimuë. He was about to leave to go and kill her—without us!” she finished.

  “Lady Morgan—well, I suppose it was Lady Nimuë—told me that it was the only weapon that would kill her, and I told you before, I was coming to find you. I wasn’t going to leave without you.” As I defended myself, anger began to pool in the pit of my stomach settling among the nauseous shame that had plagued me earlier. At least I’d already emptied myself of the heartache Scai had given me—that I’d already poured into Morwen. And she could have it!