Children of Avalon

by Meredith Bond

  I took one look at all the men sprawled on the ground and threw caution to the wind. From my pack, I pulled out the extra clothes I had brought from home and a bar of soap, then trudged off to the river for a bath.

  After stripping down to my shift, or what was left of it after I had ripped off a good number of pieces from it, I waded into the icy water. It was a lot colder than I had anticipated. I shivered but was determined to get clean.

  After washing my hands, I retwisted my hair into a bun on the top of my head—it had half fallen down, as always. I then took a deep breath and submerged myself up to my neck. I stripped off my soaking wet shift, washed it, then, quickly as I could, I scrubbed myself from face to feet while trying to control my shivering. The trembling continued, but thank goodness, I had enough fire within me that I didn’t simply turn into an icicle.

  I turned back toward the shore to get out of the freezing water, but stopped. Aron was standing there watching me.

  His eyes were bigger than I’d ever seen them and his face very quickly turned bright red. “I…I’m sorry. I… uh, I wanted to bathe.”

  I ducked down into the water trying to cover myself with my shift. “Turn around!”

  “Oh! Yes.” He did so, but then reached into his own pack, which he’d brought with him. He pulled out a cloth and held it out blindly behind him. “Here. You can use this to dry yourself.”

  Hesitantly, I stepped from the water and snatched the cloth out of his hands. I rubbed myself dry vigorously and then began to pull on my clean shift.

  “Are you ready to tell me what’s been bothering you for so long?” he asked, as I was trying to hurry into my clothes.

  My hands slowed.

  “I know something happened between you, Scai, and Dylan at the castle yesterday evening, but none of you would speak of it. Am I being too conceited to think that it might have something to do with me?” he asked.

  I pulled my laces tighter. “No.”

  He turned around hesitantly to make sure I was decent. “No, meaning you won’t speak of it? Or no…?”

  “It’s about you,” I said. My fingers nervously fiddled with each other and my laces. I took a deep breath and let the words rush out of me. “I saw you and Scai kissing in Gloucester—or at least, I thought I did. Scai says it was she who was kissing you and not the other way around.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “I was hurt,” I finished, my voice quiet and trembling ever so slightly.

  In a step, his arms were around me, pulling me close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  I held my breath trying not to cry. When I could finally speak past the lump in my throat, I asked, “Why was she kissing you?”

  He gave a little laugh and pulled back. “Because I told her that I cared for you and wanted to court you. She was wishing me well. She was happy for me.” His smile was tentative, unsure.

  I could only open my mouth like an idiot, but no words came out, I was so surprised. He truly did like me? He wanted to court me? I didn’t know what to say. For the first time in my life I was completely speechless.

  A laugh of happiness? Relief? Both all knotted together? I didn’t know, but it burst out of me. I threw my arms around him.

  His lips found mine. He kissed me hesitantly at first, but then grew bolder as I responded to him. Soon our tongues were dancing with each and I didn’t think I could ever get enough of him; ever get close enough to him. Except that he really smelled awful.

  I laughed and pulled away.

  His laugh echoed mine. “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that… um, well, you were going to bathe.”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “And you really need to.” I giggled.

  He flushed again. “Yes. I do.” He pulled back even farther away. And then before I could stop him he pulled off his tunic and started reaching for the drawstring of his leggings.

  With an embarrassed squeal and a giggle, I ran back toward the campfire. It wasn’t that I’d never seen a naked man before—with five brothers, it’s hard not to. But I wasn’t ready to go quite that far yet with Aron.

  When I got back to the others, they were all eating. My stomach gave a rumble as I joined them. But I’d hardly sat down when Sir Dagonet sprung up. “Where are Aron, Dylan and Scai?” he asked, suddenly panicked.

  “I don’t know where Dylan and Scai are. Aron’s at the river bathing,” I answered.

  “You were watching him bathe?” Peter asked sharply.

  “No!” I nearly shouted.

  “I don’t care about that now. Go get him,” Sir Dagonet told Peter. He turned to Piers. “You go and find Dylan and Scai. Tell them we need to go. Now.”

  “Where are we going, sir?” Thomas asked, standing up.

  “To follow my nose, don’t you know? I’ve got an idea. Not sure if it’s right, but we need to go and find out. Quickly.”

  Sir Dagonet could not have been more obtuse if he’d tried. Luckily we all trusted him implicitly.

  “Is it the nectere, Sir?” I asked.

  “What?” he asked, pulling his fiddling fingers away from his wrist. “Oh, no, wot, wot? Just an idea I had. Lady Nimuë’s returned and she’s excited. Agitated and excited. Figure she’s going to do something sooner rather than later.”

  Everyone had joined us.

  Sir Dagonet took one look around, picked up his bag and then said with a nod, “Best be off, then.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Take the witches to Stonehenge,” Father du Lac commanded the knight who answered his summons.

  “Stonehenge, Father?” the knight asked.

  “Do not question me,” she snapped. It was not priestly at all, but at this point Nimuë did not care. She could not be rid of this alter ego soon enough.

  She had been furious when she had learned that her new spy, Matthias, and her most devoted knight, Patric were dead. And even more so that fifty knights had not been able to defeat ten badly armed and untrained people.

  Morgan’s parting words still echoed in her ears. “Good luck with that.” How often had her sister said this to her? And every time she did, Nimuë had failed at whatever it was she was attempting to do, as if Morgan had known beforehand that she would. But not this time!

  Now that Avalon was gone and she no longer had to worry about her interfering sister, it was time for Nimuë move into action. She had her army; she only needed to inform them of their role. She would leave word here to send the children to Stonehenge when they showed up again to seek her out, as she was certain they would do.

  Everyone here would be witness—and possibly aid—to her triumph over the children, and then the kingdom would hers.

  <><><>

  Dirty and disgusting with having sat in the dungeons—some for weeks—the people her knights had captured shuffled into the center of the standing stones. Wide eyes looked all around at the impressive monoliths towering over them. Nervous hands fidgeted with clothing. Some held on to each other as if the stones would attack at any moment.

  Father du Lac stood in the center watching them. There had to be over one hundred of them. They filled both the inner and outer rings of the monument. A few of her knights surrounded the people, keeping a close eye on them—completely unnecessary, Nimuë was sure. No one would dare do anything against her.

  “My people,” Father du Lac said, spreading his arms wide and bestowing upon them a beatific smile.

  “What do you want with us?” someone shouted from one side.

  “Yes. Why have you kept us here?” another called out.

  “We’ve done nothing wrong,” said a third.

  The people all began to stir restlessly, agreeing with those brave enough to speak.

  “You have done nothing wrong,” Father du Lac agreed, quieting them with his words. “In fact, you are here because you have done something right. You are here to be rewarded.”

  “I would hardly call being held against our will in dungeon
s a reward,” said a voice from the very front. It was the actor she had met in Gloucester. The one who had told her where to find the Vallen.

  There was a general murmur of agreement throughout.

  “I apologize for the appalling conditions in which you were housed,” Father du Lac conceded. “Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of you, it could not be helped.”

  “Why are we here?” repeated a brave soul.

  “You, my good people, are going to help me,” Father du Lac said.

  “What?”

  “Why would we ever want to do that?” a woman off to the side asked in disbelief.

  “Because you, all of you, deserve better,” Father du Lac answered.

  “We deserve our freedom!” shouted the actor.

  The people agreed. And as if that were the signal, they turned to the knights standing along the periphery and attacked.

  The men defended themselves as best as they could, but they were outnumbered more than ten to one.

  Nimuë could not allow everything to fall apart now. Father du Lac began to raise his hands when the actor jumped into the center and pointed at her. “You will say nothing. You will do nothing,” he commanded, his voice thick with his magic.

  But he had no idea who he was dealing with. Nimuë shook off the suggestion as quickly as it settled into her mind.

  “You idiot!” the old priest snarled. She stepped past the stunned actor and raised her voice. “Stop!” The strength of it, as well as the magic infused in the word, had a good number of people turning toward her. It was not everyone, but it was close enough.

  Dramatically, she dropped her glamour, allowing her body to slowly shift from the form of the kindly old priest into her true form. She lost height and the slight hunch of the old man. The wrinkles in the priest’s face smoothed out and revealed a distinguished looking woman, well aware of position and her power.

  There were gasps from many of those watching.

  One of the knights screamed out, “Devil! It is the devil we have been working for!”

  He and those of the remaining knights still on their feet began to push their way forward through the crowd.

  “Not the devil, I assure you.” Lady Nimuë laughed as she pointed a finger at each knight and one by one froze them in place.

  “Then who are you?” someone asked.

  Lifting her head high, she answered, “I am your new ruler. I am the Lady Nimuë.”

  A burst of noise erupted as all the true Vallen reacted to her name.

  “But you’ve been dead for over a hundred years!” someone called out.

  “Two hundred!” someone corrected.

  “Not dead, I assure you,” Nimuë said. “Just waiting.”

  “Where is Lady Morgan?” a woman called from the outer ring.

  “Ah, my dear sister…”

  “She is our true ruler. She is the high priestess,” another said.

  “No longer. I have killed the boatman and the priestess of the mist. Avalon is closed forever,” Nimuë informed them.

  There was an enormous outcry. Wails could be heard as some stupid women overreacted to the news. Nimuë just laughed and waited for the hubbub to die down.

  “So now you’re going to take over?” a man asked.

  “After you’ve as good as killed your very own sister?” said another.

  “And why should we follow you?” a woman called out.

  There were loud calls in agreement to this.

  “Because I am your rightful high priestess!” Nimuë shouted them down. “I am destined—”

  “Ten score years shall darkness helm”

  A voice boomed from the outer circle.

  “The vessel of King Arthur’s realm,

  Wending through time’s storm-tossed sea

  To ground upon this prophecy.”

  As the sea was said to part for Moses, so did the people part for Sir Dagonet as he walked toward the center of the stones, followed by the trio. The blacksmith followed behind, carrying the chalice—her chalice.

  They were here too early! How had they known where she would be? How had they known to come here?

  Everyone fell silent as Sir Dagonet continued,

  “This shadowed epoch shall conclude

  By the might of the seventh brood.

  Of Avalon, the children three

  Will restore right and harmony.”

  “Tis the prophecy of Merlin!” a woman said in a breath loud enough to be heard by all.

  Hark ye to the Lady’s line!

  The sixth of seventh will assign

  Herself to perish with the wind,

  Helping to save all mankind.

  Scai strode forward proudly—the annoying child who had dared to confront Nimuë and drench her with her own water from Avalon when the child had barely known her own powers.

  “Seven of seven will blaze

  A path through time’s dark’ning haze.

  Her heirs will be the ones to heal,

  And renew sorcery’s appeal.”

  Bridget followed her elder sister, her red hair mimicking the flames of her power. Nimuë had yet to face this child, but a slight unease settled in her breast just watching the girl approach.

  “The seventh from my own blood

  Will ride the crest of magic flood.

  Blending with the powers’ peak,

  He will bring the peace we seek.”

  Dylan, her very own grandson, followed the others, looking proud and noble, as every son of Merlin should. He was perhaps her greatest disappointment.

  Sir Dagonet and the trio stepped into the center and faced her.

  “But the mightiest in the land

  Will be She—who by her own hand

  Condemned me to my earthen tomb.

  She will see her talents bloom.”

  Nimuë lifted her head at Merlin’s reference to herself.

  “Her growing might will presage

  The dawning of the golden age.

  Unmatched power shall wield she –

  Unprecedented sorcery.”

  Merlin indeed, knew the truth, Nimuë nodded.

  “But Avalon’s child will not fail

  To discover my stony grail.

  Then one, wielding the power of three,

  The greatest earthly force will be.”

  That damned blacksmith stepped forward and held aloft Merlin’s stone chalice. There were gasps throughout the space. It caught the afternoon sunlight, appearing to glow with power. Once again a murmuring arose, but the knight spoke on, hushing them with Merlin’s words.

  “My power will render her accursed,

  Unless the trio all die first.

  Or she will be, I prophesy,

  Destroyed by one and children three.”

  “So you think to kill me?” Nimuë asked. But the knight was not finished.

  “Coming to the end of time

  All things now will start to align

  Hark ye to this last advice

  With little time left, I’ll be concise.”

  What was this? There was more? Nimuë had never heard of this. But the words rang true. She could not deny that they were Merlin’s.

  “To join with me is what you need

  Defeating her with haste and speed

  It’s lips and gaze and then the will

  The one that’s left will have the skill.

  Come to me so you may prevail

  Fear not, the right shall never fail

  From she who wants, have no fear

  Forever will I hold her dear.”

  <><><>

  I could feel the blood draining from my face. The words of the prophecy that we’d argued over, trying so hard to decode, were suddenly perfectly clear.

  I turned to look at Scai and Dylan. They knew it, too. They’d understood as well I had. Two of us had to join Merlin in the chalice.

  “So now you think to defeat me?” Nimuë asked. “And what makes you think you can do so now aft
er you have tried and failed so many times before?”

  “Because we now know how to do it,” Scai answered.

  “Merlin tells us so in his very own prophecy,” Dylan said.

  “And you are terrified,” Sir Dagonet added. “You know that this is your end.”

  The old knight smiled, then held up his left arm, pulling back his sleeve so she could see the bracelet he wore. “No trick, my lady, wot, wot?”

  Lady Nimuë paled. “My nectere! Where did you get that?”

  Sir Dagonet pulled it off and reached out to hand it to her. “Merlin lent it to me. Please, return it to him with my thanks.”

  She said nothing, just stared at the bracelet in her hand as a tear slowly made its way down her cheek.

  No. I would not feel sorry for her. She was cruel beyond anything! She wanted to become the most powerful Vallen, rule the country, and had done horrible things in order to achieve this goal.

  Scai stepped out, gliding forward as light as the breeze. Aron passed the chalice to Sir Dagonet who was standing closer to my sister.

  “No, Scai!” the words poured from Dylan’s heart.

  “It is prophesied and I will gladly do what is necessary to defeat Lady Nimuë,” she said, tears beginning to make their way down her cheeks.

  “Then I go with you,” he said, stepping up beside her.

  “No.” The word burned in my mouth.

  “You know it’s the only way, Bridget,” Scai said, giving me a sad smile. She stepped past Sir Dagonet and encompassed me in her arms.

  I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. It wasn’t fair!

  But I did none of that. I could feel Nimuë’s eyes on Scai, Dylan, and me.

  I think my heart broke as I watched my dearest sister wrap her hands around the chalice in Sir Dagonet’s hands. She reached beyond the cup to give the old knight a kiss on each of his tear-glistened cheeks.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She then looked down into the chalice and put her lips to its edge. In a moment she was gone.

  An “oh” was breathed from the crowd of people witnessing this.

  And then it was Dylan’s turn.