Children of Avalon

by Meredith Bond

  “Sir, what started this was an argument Bridget and I were having,” I admitted as I watched the old man mount his horse again.

  “Oh?”

  “Dylan wants to go directly to Saerdbury where he thinks Nimuë might be, but I want to see my family in Gloucester. We were going there, to see them, weren’t we?” Bridget asked.

  Sir Dagonet looked from one of us to the other. He nodded. “We were going there.”

  “But we’ve got to get to Nimuë as quickly as possible. Goodness only knows what she’s doing with the chalice, sir. We can’t waste a minute, especially now that we know where she is,” I argued.

  The old man looked away from us down the road to the west and then turned and looked down the road we had been following to the south.

  “Scai got to visit our family, but I haven’t seen them in months,” Bridget said, sadness rippling through her voice and slipping under my skin.

  “It isn’t fair, Dylan,” Scai joined in, supporting her sister.

  The old man looked back at Bridget, worry drawing his thick gray eyebrows down over his eyes. I saw what he did. Bridget, so young and away from her family for the first time in her life, looking sad and lonely. Sir Dagonet looked back to me, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. I knew I had lost.

  With a sigh, I remounted my horse.

  Bridget just looked from me to Sir Dagonet and back again, growing more excited each time she flipped back and forth. “We’ll go to Gloucester?”

  I nodded, not happy at all, but pointed my horse’s head south.

  With a squeak of happiness, Bridget got up behind Scai on her horse, and we continued on.

  Chapter 14

  We were all exhausted as we plodded into the inn yard, even the horses. We’d pushed ourselves hard the last three miles to make it to the inn that night.

  We were tired and starved. I could only imagine what the innkeeper would think of such a raggedy group. On the other hand, we hadn’t been in much better shape the last time we’d graced this very inn.

  “Just coming here makes me nervous,” Scai said, looking around at the familiar yard. “I didn’t think it would, but...” She gave a little shiver.

  “Couldn’t agree more,” Sir Dagonet said.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t stay here?” Bridget suggested. “Maybe we should just go on to Gloucester?”

  “No,” Scai snapped. Then she moderated her voice. “I’m too tired.”

  Silently, I agreed and didn’t blame her for being a little testy. But remembering the last time we were here also made me uncomfortable.

  “On the other hand,” Scai said as she dismounted, “that was the first time we’d really worked together, and you have to admit, we were pretty incredible.” A small smile lit her face as she looked from me to her sister.

  “Scai’s plan for escaping from Nimuë that first time was brilliant. And we couldn’t have done it without Bridget and her fire,” I said after almost not voicing my thoughts. They both deserved the praise—just because Bridget and I were feeling at odds just now didn’t mean I should withhold it. “And Sir Dagonet’s fighting off three knights at once, well, it was incredible, sir, just incredible.”

  “Nothing.” The old man waved off the compliment while handing his horse over to the bored young man who stood by the stables waiting for us.

  “We were terrified of the witch hunts then,” Scai pointed out as we all walked toward the entrance to the inn.

  “And they were nothing compared to what they are now.” I laughed, but there was no amusement in my voice, or my heart.

  Sir Dagonet saw to obtaining two rooms for the night as I led the girls into the taproom to get some dinner.

  I tried to keep away from Scai. The more time I spent in her company the more I wanted to touch her. Hold her. Something!

  The little suggestive smiles she’d been sending my way were the worst sort of teasing. But I had promised that we would just be friends, and I was determined to keep my word. Still, I could feel my emotions churning inside of me like white–water rapids in a riverbank too narrow.

  I took a deep breath to calm myself as we settled at a discrete table in the back.

  It must not have been isolated enough, however, because we had only just sat down when a man moved towards us. The purposefulness of his stride was enough to make me stand up and put a hand to the hilt of my sword. I didn’t want trouble, but I also didn’t know why this stranger was heading straight toward us. Now was not a good time to test my patience.

  I moved to stand in front of the girls, but Scai pushed right past from behind me.

  “Aron!” She threw her arms around the fellow’s neck.

  The stones in the pommel of my sword bit into my hand as my grip tightened. “What’s the meaning of this, Scai?” The words came out in a growl, but I couldn’t help it and didn’t even try to stop it. Anger and jealousy boiled up inside of me so fast I could hardly see.

  The man, wisely, pushed Scai back from him. But that was as far his intelligence went. He pushed her behind him and took a protective stance in front of me.

  “Who are you?” He looked me straight in the eye, despite the fact that he was a good two inches shorter. The man was broad and more muscular than I. His arms looked big enough to rival any blacksmith I’d ever seen, but I had the steel.

  “I am Sir Dylan, son to the Earl of Merwyd, squire to the infamous Sir Dagonet, and you?”

  “Really!” Scai protested, coming between us. “Dylan this is my good friend, Aron. Aron, I’ve told you about Dylan. Now calm down, both of you.” She looked from one to the other of us, but as Aron didn’t make a move, neither did I. “Sit down. Now.” The command in her voice finally broke through the haze of red in my brain.

  “What, wot? Miss something?” Sir Dagonet’s cheery voice came from behind Aron, further compelling me to stand down.

  “Only Dylan and Scai’s friend about to beat each other to a bloody pulp,” Bridget said, with happy enthusiasm.

  “Eh? No need for that, wot, wot?” Sir Dagonet clapped his hand onto my shoulder and guided me back toward my seat.

  I complied but slowly enough so that Scai’s friend would know that I would have been just as likely to beat him to the pulp Bridget had mentioned.

  If it were not for Scai, the fellow probably wouldn’t have taken his eyes off of me either.

  I moved back around to the wall side of the table to sit next to Scai. Aron did the same, settling on her other side, but I kept my eye on him.

  “Would you two stop glaring at each other?” Scai’s voice was beginning to sound annoyed.

  “How did you know we would be here?” I asked. I didn’t like this coincidence at all.

  “I told him,” Scai said.

  “You what?” I asked, turning to her.

  “I told him to meet us here. I went home the night we decided to leave and pursue Nimuë and asked him to meet us here.”

  “Why would you do that, Scai?” Sir Dagonet asked, finally showing some concern for the situation.

  She looked toward the old man and gave a shrug. “I thought we could use his help.”

  “Scai is skirting around the unpleasantness, as always,” Aron said, slowly giving her a fond look that sent my blood pounding once again. “Actually, I was having a difficult time of it in our village. Since she left, the people there have been avoiding me as much as possible. I’m the town’s only blacksmith so they can’t avoid me altogether, but... well, if they can wait to go to another blacksmith in the next town over, they do.”

  “Why is that?” Sir Dagonet asked.

  Aron shrugged. “Maybe they think because Scai and I were close friends, some of her magic rubbed off on me. I honestly don’t know, but it’s getting... difficult.” His eyes shifted to Scai and it was clear that he wasn’t telling her exactly how difficult it was.

  The knight tsked his disapproval.

  “It’s wrong,” Scai said, frowning. Her brow cleared as she turned bac
k to Aron. “How is Father?”

  Aron’s face became serious, and he moved a hand to cover hers. “He’s gone. Passed away just before I left.”

  “Oh.” A tear slipped from Scai’s eye.

  “I don’t think he could deal with it any longer. The people turned away from him, too,” he explained to the rest of us. “He was heartbroken.”

  I put my arm around Scai’s shoulders taking away the deepest sadness from her. “I’m sorry.”

  The feeling of Scai filled me and my jealousy slipped away to almost nothing as she rested her head on my shoulder and then buried her face in my neck. I could feel the wet warmth of her tears, and continued siphoning off her sadness little by little as I rubbed my hand up and down her back.

  After a moment she sniffed and pulled away. “Thank you.”

  She turned back to Aron and put her hand on his. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through. It’s not fair and it’s not right.”

  Aron patted her hand. “It’s all right. I’m here now and more than willing to put it all behind me.”

  Scai gave a watery nod before wiping her a hand across her cheeks. “Well, I do hope you’ll come with us to Saerdbury.”

  “Saerdbury?” Aron asked.

  “Where we think Lady Nimuë is,” Sir Dagonet explained.

  Aron looked at the old man and then back to Scai. “I thought you said that Lady Nimuë was Father du Lac?”

  “She is.”

  “Then she’s in Holme with the king.” The confidence in his voice made us all sit up a little.

  “Tell us what you know, son,” Sir Dagonet said.

  “I’ve been here a few days, waiting for you,” Aron explained. “I couldn’t help but talk to people.”

  The idea struck me as a little odd. I don’t know why, but he didn’t seemed to be one to talk a lot. Maybe it was because he spoke with slow deliberation. Maybe it was because he was a blacksmith and none of the blacksmiths I’d ever known were the talkative type.

  “I spoke with some knights yesterday,” Aron continued. “They were grumbling because they were sent to round up witches when they’d rather be fighting with the king at Holme. But the king himself, with some nobleman and Father du Lac, sent them here.”

  “Who is the king fighting at Holme?” I asked.

  “Father du Lac, himself, was with the king when they were sent out?” Scai asked at the same time.

  “Better explain yourself a little better, don’t you know,” Sir Dagonet said, following us both up and crinkling his eyes into a smile.

  “The Danes have come down from the north led by the king’s cousin, Aethelwold. He’s claiming the English throne for himself. The king isn’t going to just hand it to him. I hear the battle is going to be huge. There’ve been rumors as to the size of the Danish army—some say thousands.” He paused to let that sink in and then continued. “I expect the fighting’s already started. I hear the roads are clogged with men traveling there to fight for the king.”

  Sir Dagonet tsked. “Must say, things were calmer when Arthur was king. Much calmer, wot? Alfred wasn’t too bad, but this one... just doesn’t quite have a handle on things yet, does he?”

  “It is difficult, sir,” I agreed. I couldn’t help but take a moment to marvel at how many kings Sir Dagonet must have lived through. Two hundred years of history!

  “And Father du Lac is definitely with him there?” Scai asked.

  “Yes. The knights I spoke to said he was there, right by the king’s side, when they were sent off to hunt witches just a few days ago. They were pretty angry about it, since they wanted to join in fight against the Danes, naturally.”

  “Naturally,” I echoed, amazed that Aron and I would see eye to eye on anything.

  “Well,” the old knight sighed. “Got to do our duty, wot, wot?”

  “What?” Scai asked.

  “Right,” Sir Dagonet nodded in agreement.

  “No, what duty must we do?” Scai clarified her question.

  “What? Oh, er, me, not you. And fight to defend our king, don’t you know? Duty as a knight of the realm,” he finished decisively as if he were steeling himself for the task.

  “My brothers may be there, too,” Bridget said.

  I had almost forgotten that Bridget was there, she was so unusually quiet. I didn’t think she’d ever been that quiet for so long before. It made me wonder.

  “Bound to be,” Sir Dagonet agreed.

  “But they’re not trained,” I felt compelled to point out.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Aron answered. “Every hand will be needed. I’ll go and see about getting a position in the armory.”

  “The armory?” Bridget perked up noticeably. “You’re a blacksmith!” she said as if the revelation had only just hit her. “Do you... have you forged any swords?”

  Aron gave her a smile, but shook his head. “We don’t have any knights in Tallent. I’ve made knives aplenty and scythes, but never a true sword.”

  Bridget sat back, clearly disappointed.

  “Bridget’s been trying her hand at it,” Sir Dagonet explained.

  “Really? You? But you couldn’t possibly be a blacksmith. You’re too small.” Aron gave a little laugh.

  Normally, I would have joined him since the idea of someone as petite as Bridget blacksmithing was too ludicrous, but I knew better. “She does it magically,” I explained to Aron.

  “I’m learning to meld metal with my magic,” Bridget added, her voice so quiet if she were anyone else I would have said that she’d suddenly turned shy.

  “How is that possible?”

  “Bridget controls the element of fire,” Scai answered for her sister. “Just as I control air. Dylan can control water and turn into a fish.” Her smile warmed me more than any fire Bridget could have ever produced.

  “That’s amazing.” Aron shook his head. Turning to Sir Dagonet he asked, “And what about you, sir. Are you a wit... er,” he paused awkwardly.

  “Vallen,” Scai filled in for him.

  “Yes, Vallen,” he corrected himself. “You’re one too, aren’t you?”

  Sir Dagonet gave him a frown as his eyes slipped to the nearest table that, thankfully, was unoccupied. I wished he would change the subject. This topic was too dangerous for such a public place. Sir Dagonet was too polite to tell him so, unfortunately. “Yes,” the old knight replied, “I am, but of no consequence, don’t you know? I can do some minor stuff, but nothing compared with these three. Associated with earth, wot, wot?”

  “Are you, sir?” I asked, despite myself. I’d never known that about the old knight. Honestly, I’d never even wondered about Sir Dagonet’s magic since it was, as he said, very minor. The only thing I’d ever seen the knight do was put on and take off his own armor.

  “We ought to get an early start tomorrow morning, then, wot, wot?” was the only reply I received, however, and rightfully so.

  As Bridget was doing her best to hide an enormous yawn, we all agreed to retire for the night.

  I was relieved Aron had already booked his own room. I was going to be spending a great deal more time in the fellow’s company already, I didn’t want to start right away by having to share a bed with him as well.

  ~~~~~

  The hilt of my sword digging into my hand was nearly constant since we’d met up that morning for breakfast. I wanted to attack someone. I didn’t care if it was with my sword or my fists, but if I had to sit and watch Scai and Aron giggling to each other for another minute I was sure to hit someone very soon.

  The incredibly slow pace Sir Dagonet had kept us to all morning wasn’t helping either. I had thought that now we knew exactly where we were going he would have gone a bit faster, but no. He still kept up to the same near–walking pace we had maintained throughout the journey.

  If only I could think of some excuse to get Aron away from Scai. No, from Scai, Sir Dagonet, and Bridget. I needed Aron alone without anyone there to defend him, or to stop me from doing what I knew I
needed to do—beat the shit out of the man. Oh, I was well aware that it would possibly be the stupidest thing I could do, but that didn’t make me hesitate, not for a minute.

  He was a blacksmith, for goodness sake. He was probably stronger than an ox, and if Scai’s stories were to be believed, pretty good with his fists. But I had speed and agility. I was certain I could get in a few good hits—bloody his nose before he broke mine.

  Oh, yes, I thought, as I watched Scai’s hand reach out to touch his arm, laughing at something the fellow said, he definitely needed a taste of my fist.

  “Everything all right, Bridget?” Sir Dagonet’s voice cut into my fantasy.

  I looked over at her riding behind the old knight. She straightened up and sat back. “Yes!” she answered, her face turning pink.

  “Looked like you were about to fall off,” Sir Dagonet chuckled.

  “No. Just, um, leaning forward a bit.” She caught my eye and flushed even more.

  What was she embarrassed about? Was she as frustrated as I with Sir Dagonet’s pace, or was there something else on her mind?

  “Are you worried about your brothers?” I asked, fishing for what might be bothering her. Even that morning she’d been acting oddly. She had maneuvered herself next to Aron at breakfast and then hadn’t said a word. This silence was so unlike her I was becoming concerned.

  “What? No. Why should I be?” She nearly jumped at my question.

  “You just seem to be very quiet today. You were last night, too,” I said. “Oddly enough, I’m worried about you.” It wasn’t something I admitted lightly, especially considering our fight the day before. I knew in my own mind that she wasn’t responsible for the hives that had covered my body, just as I hadn’t been responsible for her sadness, but emotionally I was still unsure.

  Bridget’s lips twitched into a little, reluctant smile. “Thank you, Dylan. No. I’m not worried about my brothers.”

  “Quiet for no reason, then, wot?” Sir Dagonet asked.

  “Um, yes. I suppose so.” She didn’t sound too certain of her answer.

  I gave her a look to ask if there was anything further she’d like to add, but she just shrugged and turned away.