Children of Avalon

by Meredith Bond

  “It’s how they live so long. I think Lady Morgan might have even slowed things down a little for us,” Sir Dagonet said, walking stiffly over to the fire.

  “Can she do that?” Bridget asked.

  The old man shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  ~~~~~

  The following morning Sir Dagonet was slow to get up. “Oooh,” he groaned as he hauled himself to his feet. “Too many nights sleeping in a real bed, don’t you know?”

  I laughed. “How is that, sir?”

  “After so many nights of sleeping in a proper bed, my tired old bones aren’t used to the hard ground. Going to be stiff for some hours, I imagine, don’t...”

  His words were cut off by screaming. It sounded like both Scai and Bridget. I grabbed Excalibur and before I could begin to contemplate what might be making them scream, I was running toward the river where they’d gone to bathe. Sir Dagonet was right behind me.

  They were both standing on the bank in their shifts. Scai’s head was buried against her sister’s shoulder and Bridget was looking toward the river, away from me.

  Caught on some rocks was a bloated corpse. The dead woman looked as if she were staring right at the two trembling girls.

  “Oh, dear,” Sir Dagonet said quietly from behind me.

  Scai lifted her head at the sound of his voice. Abandoning her sister, she ran straight into my arms. She was frozen and trembling like a leaf.

  “Shh, it’s all right,” I murmured in a soothing tone, hating myself for loving the feel of her in my arms.

  “No! It’s not. She was Vallen,” the girl sobbed.

  “How...”

  “Or at least, she was killed as a witch,” Bridget added.

  “Yes, I do believe you’re right, wot?” Sir Dagonet said. “Her arms and feet are bound and the fact that she’s naked would suggest that she was swum.”

  Another sob broke from Scai against my chest as she shuddered. I tightened my arms around her. “There’s nothing we can do for her now,” I said as gently as I could.

  “No. No way to bury her properly. Don’t have the tools,” Sir Dagonet agreed. He did push her off the rocks with the tip of his sword so that she could continue her journey downstream and so that Scai and Bridget wouldn’t have to look at her any longer.

  “We’ll, uh, meet you back at the camp,” I said, doing the right thing and gently removing Scai from my embrace while trying desperately not to think about her state of undress.

  She just nodded and turned away.

  “Bad business,” Sir Dagonet said as we made our way back to our things, leaving the girls to get dressed.

  Our ride south was much quieter that day. I thought it would be best if I stayed close by and didn’t ride ahead as I had the previous day, but by midday I was once again feeling jittery and frustrated with our slow progress.

  ~~~~~

  “You asked to see me, Father?" Lord Trafford marched straight into Father du Lac's quarters with only the slightest tap on the door as he did so.

  “Yes, my lord. Thank you so much for coming all the way up here to meet me.” Nimuë, in her guise as Father du Lac, folded her hands placidly in front of herself. Luckily, she had been expecting the man and was already changed and ready for him. "Would you care for some wine?" she said, moving toward the table where a decanter and two glasses stood.

  “No, thank you. What is it you wished to discuss with me?”

  Clearly, the man had no time for the social niceties, Nimuë thought. Very well, she was just as happy to get straight to business. She gestured for Lord Trafford to sit down and took a seat herself. “My lord, I believe it would be prudent, with the increased traffic on the roads currently, to patrol them even more vigorously than you have been.”

  “For witches, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  Lord Trafford stood up again. “I appreciate your concern, Father, but the king has put me in charge of the witch hunt.”

  “And I don’t believe he could have picked a better man for the job, however, I did want to point out to you that at this time the roads might be the best place for your men.” Silently Nimuë cursed herself. She should have just put the thought into his mind magically and been done with it, now she was mired in this ridiculous tiptoeing around hurt feelings.

  “I will be the judge of that, Father. Thank you for your concern.” The man turned for the door.

  Nimuë sighed. “You will set your men to patrolling the roads,” she said, her voice laden with magic.

  The man turned back to her, his eyes slightly blank.

  She reduced the level of magic in her voice to the merest whisper. “I am certain that you are aware that now, when there are many more people on the roads, there is a higher likelihood that some of those people are witches spreading their malicious, tainted beliefs. They wish to turn our men from our cause, Lord Trafford, turn them away from joining us. Surely, you see that we cannot have such people on the roads.” Father du Lac paused and then said in a quieter voice that held some steel to it, “The king will be grateful that you have so helped him to build his army.”

  Lord Trafford nodded, accepting Father du Lac’s words. “Yes, yes. I see what you mean. Very well. I will send out riders with the word that the roads are to be patrolled more closely.”

  Nimuë thought about that for a moment. It wasn't enough.

  “No. I think we need to be more certain about this. We need strong men out there, knights fully trained.”

  “But Father, all of our knights are here preparing for battle. The king needs those men,” Trafford argued.

  Nimuë gave a dismissive wave her hand. She didn't care for the king's battle so much as she did for finding the trio. “The king can spare a few knights. Gather your men and then come meet me in the king's antechamber.”

  “The king's... Will his majesty be there?”

  “Of course he will. He knows how important this is. He will fully support you in your efforts, have no fear.”

  The man looked dubious.

  “And he will reward you for your loyalty, I am certain of it,” she added.

  Lord Trafford still didn't look fully convinced, but he gave a nod of his head before turning once again to leave.

  “My lord.” Father du Lac stopped him. “What are you doing with the witches when you find them?” An idea was forming in Nimuë’s head.

  The man looked confused for a moment. “Why, we are burning them or having them swum, why?”

  Father du Lac shook his head sadly. “Such a waste of life, my son. They are sinners, yes, and need to be turned away from their evil ways, but perhaps some of them... well, it is my dearest hope that at least a few may be saved.”

  “But they’re in league with the devil, Father.”

  “Indeed, but perhaps their souls are not so tainted that they cannot be turned back. Bring them to Saerdbury. I will go there myself, when the king allows, to see to them. I am thinking that a trial to ensure their guilt would be most fair and then, perhaps, with the aid of my brother priests, we can turn them back onto the path of righteousness.”

  “Do you think that wise, Father?” Lord Trafford asked, unsure about this new turn. “We have simply been destroying them before they could do any more harm.”

  “We must be absolutely certain, before we damn anyone, that they cannot be saved. Have compassion, my son, and you too shall be blessed,” Father du Lac said in a meaningful tone.

  Lord Trafford gave him a slight smile at that, knowing that the priest would put in a good word for him with the king if he did as he was told. He needed all the help he could get and he was wise enough to know it.

  As the door closed behind Lord Trafford, Nimuë shifted back to her own form while moving toward the window to look out over the busy courtyard. It did not matter whether the trio knew where to look for her or not, she would get a hold of them before they had a chance to seek her out. She would get their powers, and then she would oversee their deaths herself. The
re would be no uncertainty when she became the most powerful Vallen of all time. She would know it, and so would every Vallen in the British Isles—for they would all be subject to her mercy.

  Chapter 13

  “Bridget!” Scai yelped.

  “What?” Bridget said, looking over at her.

  I looked up from my own dinner, but didn’t know what was going on between the girls.

  Scai gave her sister a look of annoyance, and then turned back to her meal. Bridget gave me a little shrug and turned back to her own.

  I watched as Scai tore off a piece of bread and warily took it toward her mouth. It burst into flames.

  “Stop it, this isn't funny,” Scai said, dropping the bread.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Bridget said around a mouthful of food.

  “Oh no? Then who just set my bread on fire? Dylan?”

  Bridget’s eyes shifted to the burning piece of bread on the ground in front of her sister. She shook her head as she swallowed what was in her mouth. “I didn’t do that,” she protested as soon as she could speak.

  “Listen, I know you're angry because I went to Gloucester while you were trapped on Avalon, but that's no reason to make it so that I can't eat.”

  “Wait a minute, you went to Gloucester?” Bridget put down her own dinner. “I thought you went to visit your family in Wales."

  "I did, the first time. The second time I went to Gloucester. Didn’t you know?"

  "You said that you went to visit your family!"

  Scai was silent, just looking at Bridget. She then said quietly, "I was visiting my family."

  There was silence as that sank in. And then in a whoosh all of their camp was alight with flames. The horses screamed in fright, dancing away from the fire. Scai, Sir Dagonet, and I all jumped to our feet.

  Sir Dagonet leapt toward the horses to keep them from bolting. Scai and I brought on a downpour of rain and a blast of wind at the same time, both of us fighting to put out the flames before they could spread. In a moment, we were all soaked and covered from head to toe in dirt and dry leaves that had blown up from the ground in Scai’s wind, but the fire was out.

  “That was just brilliant, Bridget!” I snapped, feeding off the fury Bridget was burning through.

  “And ruining our dinner with your rain and Scai’s wind wasn’t?” she snapped right back.

  “You expected us to just stand here and let your fire burn the forest down around us?” Scai asked.

  “No. You could have just asked me to put it out,” Bridget said, as if talking to a small child. “I have that power, you know. And I’m not a complete idiot.”

  I couldn’t hold back my snort of disbelief.

  “I beg your pardon?” she said, rounding on me.

  I just held up my hands in surrender before she set me alight as well.

  She turned back to Scai, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t believe you went to visit my brothers without telling me.”

  “Our brothers,” Scai corrected her. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “And you think that I wouldn’t have found out?”

  Scai sighed. “I had meant for you not to.”

  “It was bad enough when you could leave and go wherever you wanted, but this...” Bridget stopped, looking around for an outlet for her misery. With a growl, she threw a fireball at their campfire making the flames shoot up and our remaining food, sitting right next to it, catch fire.

  “Now you’ve made it so no one can eat!” Scai said with as much anger as I had ever seen come from her.

  “It was ruined anyway,” Bridget screamed back. “And I didn’t set your food on fire in the first place, I told you that.”

  “Then who did? We’ve already established it wasn’t Dylan, and I can’t believe Sir Dagonet would do such a thing,” Scai snapped back.

  “What, wot? Don’t have that sort of power, don’t you know,” the old man protested.

  We were all silent a moment. “Then who did?” Scai asked again in a quieter voice and a look at the woods all around us.

  “I’ll go have a look,” Bridget answered. “It’s better than staying here with you.” She turned and stomped away.

  “Dylan...” Sir Dagonet began.

  “I’m right behind her,” I said, following Bridget at a safe distance. It was much too dangerous for her to go off on her own. We all knew that.

  She stopped stomping as soon as she’d left the confines of our camp. Taking a deep breath, she started moving forward more quietly, looking around her. She spun around as I came up from behind.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Following you. You know you can’t be away from camp alone. It’s not safe.”

  She gave another sigh, this time of resignation and then turned back around with a small nod of her head. As she took another step forward, however, a strong wind came out of nowhere, buffeting her, and nearly knocking her off balance.

  I grabbed her arm to keep her from falling but had to take a few steps myself to keep upright.

  Immediately, another strong wind came from the other direction shoving us off again. Back and forth we were tossed each time, nearly losing our balance in the near gale–force winds.

  “Scai!” Bridget bellowed.

  Her voice was loud enough and we weren’t that far from camp, so it wasn’t very surprising when Scai and Sir Dagonet came running up. By the time they got there, though, the wind was completely gone.

  “What is it?” Scai asked, as Sir Dagonet said, “What, wot?”

  “Stop knocking us around! I told you it wasn’t me who set your food on fire.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Scai responded in confusion. “Sir Dagonet and I were trying to clean up the remains of dinner.”

  “Didn’t see her even look in this direction,” the old man confirmed.

  “Then who was throwing strong winds at us?” I asked.

  “Strong winds?” Scai asked.

  “Someone’s having a fine time setting you two at each other’s throats, wot, wot?” Sir Dagonet commented, looking around the wood.

  We all stopped to look around as if the culprit would just come walking out from behind a tree.

  “Could it have been Nimuë?” Bridget asked.

  “Could be,” Sir Dagonet answered with a nod.

  “Doesn’t seem like her style, though,” I said, thinking about it.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Scai agreed. “She’s much more direct when she attacks.”

  “But then, who?” Sir Dagonet asked.

  ~~~~~

  Despite the suspicious glances the girls threw at one another when they thought no one was looking, we continued on for another two days of incredibly dull, slow travel.

  The nights were nearly as difficult as the days, with Scai giving me sidelong looks while sleeping, wisely, on the far side of the fire next to her sister. She had said that we would just remain friends, but the looks she was giving me from time to time were much more than friendly. We kept away from each other, maintaining an ordinary outward friendliness, while inside I wanted her more desperately every day. Being so close to her and yet unable to say a word or share a touch became more difficult as the days passed.

  “I’m going to ride ahead,” I announced to no one in particular. For the past mile I’d hardly been able to keep my horse at the slow and steady pace Sir Dagonet had set for us. The beast was itching for a good gallop, and I wanted more than anything to give it to him.

  “You do that, son.” Sir Dagonet nodded. “Just be sure to come back and find us. We’ll stop when we find a place for the night.”

  “Yes, sir.” I nearly groaned. I would have to come back and find them? Not have them meet up with me as they had done before? Were they slowing down even more? I didn’t think it was possible. But I couldn’t argue with the old knight, so I gave Scai an exasperated look and a silent urging for her to try and hurry them up before giving m
y horse the go–ahead to take off.

  Hooves flew under me as the horse reached his stride at a full gallop. My horse’s smooth gait couldn’t rival the feel of slicing through water, but it was better than the slow plodding we’d been at the past two days. Down the road I flew, until both I and the horse were pretty well spent.

  As we slowed to a gallop and then a walk, I could feel my heart slip at the thought of having to turn back to find the girls and Sir Dagonet. But I’d promised.

  I turned the horse’s head and went back the way I’d come. We moved in a light canter, but at this slower pace it was hard not to think about the attack on Bridget and Scai. I was certain Scai wouldn’t have attacked her sister and me with the wind in that way. I was less certain about the attack it seemed Bridget had made on Scai, but she claimed she hadn’t done it, and she’d never lied before.

  But if they hadn’t attacked each other, then who had? I’d never heard of anyone with the power to control both fire and air. That made me think that it was more than one person, but who? Who would want to attack us, other than Nimuë?

  Perhaps, instead of going forward, I should have gone back to see if we were being followed. Being out on public roads like this was unsafe for so many different reasons. I didn’t like it.

  It was probably not more than a half hour later when I heard the distinct sounds of battle. Grunts and the clink of armor made me pause for the briefest of moments before I kicked my horse into a gallop.

  “Oh, ho! You think you can get away with that, do you? You will soon find otherwise, wot, wot?”

  Sir Dagonet’s fighting banter made me slow my horse and draw Excalibur from my belt. I burst around a corner to find the old knight engaged in battle... with a tree!

  “Oh, Dylan, thank God you’ve come back,” Bridget called from the opposite side of the road, keeping well back from the attacking tree.

  “Eh? Dylan?” Sir Dagonet stopped his fighting for a moment to turn and to look. The tree took advantage of this and smacked a branch into Sir Dagonet’s back so hard the old man was pitched forward in his saddle.

  He caught himself before he fell, however, and turned back to his opponent. “Ha! Going to fight dirty, eh? Well, we’ll see about that, now there are two of us, Sir Oak. You are outnumbered.”