Shades of Avalon

by Carol Oates

  “Why do you summon us to this place for a second time, young warrior?” Many voices whispered at once, making a sound resembling tinkling bells.

  Guinevere stood resolute. “I demand answers.”

  Laughter rang out from a chorus of voices.

  “Guinevere,” I growled. “What is this?”

  Her guarded eyes flickered in our direction, her jaw set. Intense anger radiated from her, and her fingers tightened to fists by her side. “This is the Fáidh. Once they were the priests and priestesses of Danu. Now they are nothing more than guard dogs to the Otherworld, meddling in the lives of the living for sport.”

  The pillar vibrated and shimmered. “Have care, young warrior.”

  “Creepy level ten,” Emma muttered under her breath.

  “Why did you take him from me?”

  “To protect humans from the Riastradh,” the chorus responded without emotion. “You come before us this night with equal purpose. The children of Danu once more seek to possess its power.”

  “No,” Guinevere argued. “Only one and we will end Zeal. Have you seen the future? Do you know what will happen?”

  The water shook and memories of my family from the alternate future sprang to mind with an accompanying dull ache of sorrow. How could we know the Fáidh would tell us the truth or expose us to the impossible? For a moment the pillar swayed over the water, and I thought it might disappear before we learned anything. Instinct kicked in, and my foot moved without conscious decision. Guinevere’s hand shot up, warning me to hold fast. It took all the restraint I could muster. A growl rumbled in my chest despite knowing the column of water would take offense. There’s something I never thought I’d think.

  This entire trip was more high fantasy than reality at this point. Nothing I was prepared for when I awakened as a Guardian. I had seen myself more as Clark Kent, living a relatively normal life and saving the world with my superpowers on my days off work. I felt more like a character straight out of the pages of The Lord of the Rings at this point.

  After several tense moments, the pillar settled. “A choice twisted the path you walk until it broke. The fate of the one who carries the burden of the Riastradh is undecided.”

  “So who’s that?” Emma whispered faintly, leaning her head toward us.

  Amanda looked up to me and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Blood pounded in my ears. More secrets. Emma was just a kid, and John was her only family. I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Her lips flattened into a line, and she focused her attention back to the scene playing out before us.

  “Did my parents know this would happen?” I demanded.

  Water danced over the surface of the lake, as though a thousand eyes turned toward me. Pins and needles crawled over my flesh.

  “They could not have predicted your journey would alter in this manner. They held suspicion and cautioned you of difficult choices.”

  I wracked my brain. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember any warnings, but of course we weren’t meant to remember our time there. What use was a warning with no recollection of it?

  “My angels.” The voice slithered out from the pillar unlike the others. Instead of a chorus, this voice was singular but with a faint metallic twang behind it that made my ears itch. The voice was unmistakably that of my mother. Logically I knew I shouldn’t recognize the soft lilt, but I did. I knew it as though I’d been listening to it my whole life.

  “Mom,” I uttered feebly. A habitual guilt and longing accompanied the word and replaced any lingering frustration and wariness of the Fáidh. My parents were gone before I turned six, and my memories of them were like well-worn photographs, blanched and dog-eared at the edges, faded everywhere else. I recalled tossing a ball with my father and my mother reading to me as I tucked myself under her arm at bedtime. Perhaps that’s why I still instantly recognized her voice after all this time.

  I considered Lewis and Carmel my parents. They raised me, and they were there though the cut knees, report cards, and graduations. We shared the holidays, and they made a home for Triona and me. Regardless, hearing my mother’s voice transported me back to before all that.

  “You have grown into a fine man, a brave man,” my dad’s voice said with undiluted pride.

  I didn’t trust my own ears and shook my head to rid myself of the illusion.

  “What is it? What do you hear?” Amanda asked with a worried scowl. She placed her small hand on my arm, her eyes moving quickly over my face.

  “You don’t hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Her face scrunched up in confusion.

  I looked to Guinevere and Emma for any sign they heard the voices. Both watched me with an air of careful reticence.

  Without further warning and as gentle as parting clouds, a hidden memory revealed itself. It wasn’t complete, more like snapshots flickering past out of sequence.

  The place was similar to Tara, with its ancient mounds and embankments spread out over an open field—echoes of past structures placed there by my ancestors. The sky was too blue and the sun too bright to have streaks of pink, orange, and purple over the horizon. The lush grass was so green I had to look away. Birds swept through the still, clean air in graceful arches over a gathered crowd, wearing costumes that placed them at every moment through history.

  Amanda stood close to my side, along with Triona and Caleb, looking like a younger version of his father.

  A tall, slim woman moved gracefully toward us, accompanied by a man with his arm clenched protectively around her waist.

  Her long, dark red hair gleamed and reflected light as though dusted with gold or copper. Her dark pink lips widened to a smile, accentuating the gentle blush of pink over her smooth tanned skin. Her emerald eyes glistened. I darted a glance to Triona and caught her wiping a stray tear from her cheek. As much as Caleb resembled his father, I saw our mother in Triona…until she smiled.

  When Triona emitted a sound somewhere between laughter and crying, I saw more than a hint of the man standing before us. He was tall too, but less regal in his posture and wearing a checked work shirt the same as Uncle Lewis wore. His shaggy brown hair settled across his forehead falling into his green-brown eyes, just the way mine did.

  These people were my parents, yet I had to swallow a thick desire to grab Amanda and flee. I coughed and gulped in a lungful of fresh air. Despite my clear head, only moments before agony had gripped me and threatened to rip my soul to shreds. I wouldn’t allow them to keep her from me, and I didn’t intend to leave her behind. I had to remind myself these people gave their lives to protect us. They loved us, and they weren’t a danger.

  “You have been through so much.” My mother released a sad sigh, looking to me and then Triona. “So much has been expected of you that you never asked for.”

  “You are soul mates,” my father picked up where my mother left off. “Separate parts of a whole. You are to be rewarded for what you have done and what you will do. That’s what we brought you here for.” He directed this to all of us before narrowing his attention to Triona and me. “You will spend your life with your soul mate. Your whole life.”

  My heart pounded heavily, and a sudden burst of intense relief caught in my throat.

  “And when the time comes and your life on earth is over, you will come here together, and then you will share eternity.”

  He took my mother’s hand and kissed it lovingly. I stifled another blast of emotion at the familiarity of his expression and the affinity when their eyes met. He looked at her the way I looked at Amanda, as though the universe was meaningless without her.

  Amanda squeezed my hand and briefly turned her face toward my chest, laying a soft kiss directly over my heart. She reached up on her tiptoes, and I bent my knees so she could kiss my cheek. She winked when our eyes met. A silent moment only for the two of us.

  It almost completely distracted me from the fleeting expressions crossing my father’s face. His eyes fixed on Caleb, his lips tight and tendons strainin
g in his neck. At first I perceived it as anger toward Caleb, especially when the color deepened from his cheeks over his jawline. I didn’t understand. A momentary glance at Triona showed me she didn’t see—her focus had been distracted by Caleb.

  His fingers flexed, still clasping my mother’s. Her lips parted in a soundless gasp. When I looked back to my father, his expression became something else. His eyes narrowed and his forehead creased. A sorrowful pity emanated from his dark eyes as he watched Caleb. My initial perception had been wrong. The anger wasn’t directed toward him as the pity so clearly was, but I still didn’t understand. Why pity? It seemed an odd reaction given the recently delivered good news. Before I could ask, they both composed themselves as Triona returned her attention to them.

  “You fought beside Triona for a future together, and you were there with her when the Stone roared. In every sense that is important, you two are as joined as it is possible to be now. We are trusting you to take care of her.” My father swallowed hard, but I was sure I was the only one to hear the catch in his voice since no one else acknowledged it.

  In the next moment, Caleb became upset about his brother, Seth, the one he killed to protect Triona. Caleb wanted to see him, and my mother stepped forward to reassure him. My father used the opportunity to pull me aside, though I kept hold of Amanda’s outstretched hand. He spoke in a whisper, rushing his words and inclining his head to me, indicating he didn’t want anyone else to hear.

  “Ben, this isn’t over. I wish to all the Gods it was, but Triona has another choice to make. Her wrong decision could change everything. Triona, Caleb, and others will pay a high price.”

  “What should she do?”

  He smiled sadly. “I don’t have that answer. Promise me you’ll always look out for Triona and Caleb. Her Guardian side is tied to him. Losing Caleb would be like losing a part of her soul.”

  I nodded, unable to form words.

  There the memory shattered as though made of glass. The next thing I recalled was returning to Tara. Nevertheless, I had a sense I remembered what I needed to. They understood the choices ahead of Triona and that something bad would happen to Caleb if she made the wrong one. Was that the reason my father instructed him to take care of Triona? Should he have stopped her? Should I? But how—I didn’t retain that memory of Tír na nÓg and neither of us knew ahead of time that taking John’s memory was the choice.

  “What is it, Ben?” Amanda’s apprehensive eyes met mine.

  Her hands cupped my jaw, forcing me to look at her when I tried to turn away.

  “I remember,” I murmured.

  “Pardon?” Guinevere pushed.

  “I remember my parents and Tír na nÓg,” I said louder. “I remember what they told us.”

  “Then you understand.” The voices shivered over the water.

  Suddenly my tongue was arid and my throat raw. I understood all right. The Fáidh wanted to manipulate me with my own memories. Reminding me what would happen to Triona if he wasn’t returned safely, so I would press for a quick exchange with John. For some reason I couldn’t comprehend, they wanted Zeal to have him.

  “Why now?” I asked at the top of my voice. “Why do you want to give into Zeal, when you took Arthur to stop him from falling into the hands of the Council?”

  The water shimmered, the sound like tumbling glass. “It is only when we are tested that we achieve potential.”

  Emma remained poised, her feet parted for balance, and her arrow ready to fly free at a moment notice. She coughed to gain our attention.

  “What?”

  “These guys are the priests and priestesses of Danu, right?”

  I nodded, and Amanda tilted her head to listen.

  “You and Triona are the last in the royal bloodline of Danu, right?”

  I nodded again, aware of Guinevere waiting impatiently nearby. Her fists trembled by her side, and her body stiffened.

  Emma rolled her eyes dramatically and shook her head in exasperation. “Well, doesn’t that make you, like, the boss of their church or something? Can’t you make them tell you?”

  Amanda’s lips curved up on one side, and she shrugged. “I think she has a point, babe.”

  “Try,” Guinevere ground out. Her shoulders rose and fell as she released a breath. “Please,” she added in a gentler tone.

  I stared at the water pillar, lifting my chin. What the heck? It was worth a try. “Tell me what we should do,” I ordered in my most official voice.

  The water pulsed higher, voices murmuring at once and unmistakably at odds. I raised my arms, once again holding Emma and Amanda back. They’d followed me here after all. Both of them appeared to possess the same innate instinct to push forward into the thick of trouble, whenever and wherever they could find it.

  “Hand over the Stone.” The voices echoed the words grudgingly, as though some purposely wanted to distort the sounds and make it difficult for us to discern.

  “Didn’t everyone already know that?” Amanda groaned.

  They don’t know it means handing over John.

  “Wait!” Guinevere spun toward us and stomped across the grass. Her blank expression told me nothing about her thoughts, but her cheeks flushed deep crimson, and her heart raced along like a speeding train. She sucked in a deep breath and then another. “I have a request.” She paused to steady herself, closing her eyes and lowering her head in a sort of submissive manner, but I didn’t understand why. It wasn’t something I ever expected from her. “Our stories tell us only one can possess the Riastradh at any given time. If this is true, Arthur can’t be a danger anymore. Please, tell them to let him go.”

  I blinked rapidly, unsure if I was hearing her correctly. Did Guinevere really just ask me to demand the release of King Arthur from Avalon?

  Amanda and Emma watched me expectantly with wide, excited eyes. Guinevere’s sincerity was unmistakable. The flush spread down as far as the dip in her collarbone at the base of her throat, and her bottom lip trembled. Even with a sword strapped to her side, she appeared vulnerable and young. Emotionally exposed in a way I hadn’t seen before.

  However, this was King Arthur, the King Arthur. Mortals weren’t meant to hold power over life and death. On the other hand, Arthur was taken alive.

  “Don’t the legends say Arthur will return when his people need him?” Emma offered helpfully. “John and I are his people. Ben, I think we can use all the help we can get, can’t we?”

  “Do it.” Amanda spoke out against my hesitation. She shouldered Emma aside and edged Guinevere out of the way until she stood directly in front of me. Her nose scrunched up a moment as she took both my hands.

  Amanda sighed and peered up at me from under thick curling eyelashes. She wore no makeup tonight, not that she needed it anyway. She looked beautiful. I recalled a night a few years before when she had stood in front of me, bold but insecure about my intentions. She had kissed me anyway. I saw that same hopeful anticipation in her brown eyes now.

  “If it was me, you wouldn’t hesitate. If it was you, I wouldn’t. Do it, Ben. He doesn’t belong there with the dead. He should be here with her.” Amanda’s head flicked in Guinevere’s direction.

  I beamed, consumed by pride and confident Amanda would never steer me to a wrong decision. I wriggled my fingers out of her grip and scooped a few short hairs behind her ear. I cupped her chin and carefully, with the reverence she deserved, leaned in and touched my lips to hers. Amanda responded and pressed the length of her body toward mine for a split second before she retreated with a winning smile.

  “I have no idea what my blood can do,” I conceded.

  “What?” Amanda tilted her head, intrigued.

  “Oh, nothing much. Just something the crazy, old coot Merlin said.”

  I left the three of them and approached the edge of the lake, careful not to slip on the mud. Nothing says regal confidence like sliding on my ass. I planted my feet and threw my shoulders back, expanding my chest. I had no idea how to do this. Did I s
imply ask, or was there a specific command? I decided to wing it and hope.

  The water moved, and I imagined liquid eyes watching me. Butterflies tumbled in my stomach. I rubbed my palm across it in a vain attempt to allay the movement. It didn’t work and my apprehension grew. I framed the words in my mind as Emma nodded, straining the bowstring a little more. I took the action as assurance she had my back. She was just a kid and yet probably braver than me.

  “You wish to entreat us, Blood of Danu?” Ripples spread out across the glassy surface of the lake from the base of the pillar. If I wasn’t mistaken, the tone of the voices verged on arrogance.

  “No,” I boomed. “I don’t entreat you. I am Benjamin Alexander Pryor. I am the last born in the bloodline of Dagda and descendant of the goddess, Danu. I command you to return the human known as Arthur Pendragon to this world immediately.”

  The ripples intensified, and the voices began to argue among themselves again, fluctuating between whispers and high-pitched screeches so loud I had to shield my ears. I held my ground, even when water started to spurt from the top of the pillar and fell like dense rain over us.

  “Ben,” Amanda called.

  I hardly heard her over the noise of the Fáidh. “I am Benjamin Alexander Pryor. I am the last born in the bloodline of Dagda and descendant of the goddess, Danu. I command you to return the human known as Arthur Pendragon to this world immediately,” I repeated louder, shouting into the building din.

  The pillar turned, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until the air around it oscillated and the ground shook. Rocks from the cliff face tumbled into the lake. I widened my stance for balance, struggling to keep my eyes open against the onslaught of wind and water attempting to drag me forward. On instinct, my nails extended and my body dropped into a crouch. A part of me feared I’d made a huge mistake after all. I got the impression the Fáidh weren’t partial to being told what to do. How could I fight water?

  “Move back,” I bellowed over my shoulder, knowing it was a matter of time before Amanda bounded to my side. “Don’t come any closer.”