Heirs of Avalon: The passage

by Béatrice Mary

  “Fine…” she said, tit for tat, coldly.

  I hurried to leave, for fear of letting my fury break out at her air of indifference.

  The Avalonians woke up late the next day, their faces showing the effects of the night-long party – eyes red from fatigue, wine and the smoky bonfire – but they all seemed supremely happy anyway. Many of them got ready to head out, while the remaining Avalonians prepared for their attendance at Melora and Gabriel’s inauguration into the society that Viviane presided over.

  The ceremony, organized for that evening, would be far different from that of the previous day. Only the closest and most powerful collaborators would participate in it. Instead of medieval costumes, the women would wear beautiful evening gowns from the greatest couturiers of the day, and instead of farandoles or troubadours, a pianist would perform, accompanied by an orchestra.

  The sun was already high when Melora opened her eyes. Lassitude weighed down every part of her body, and it required a huge effort to pull herself out of bed. She had left the party soon after Gabriel’s departure, but she’d had a hard time falling asleep. Even when she closed her eyes, she saw his face, and she kept remembering how angry he’d gotten after calling Evan “Sleeping Beauty.” She had been surprised at it, and had even rather childishly hoped it hinted at jealousy, before lecturing herself not to entertain that idea. Still, she retained a forlorn hope.

  She mused at how troubled she had been the day before, when she had stood close to him in the cathedral. She had felt his burning gaze when she had presented herself to Father Antoine, and she had been horrified to feel – at such a solemn moment – an insidious heat spread throughout her body from the pit of her stomach down to her toes, and up to the roots of her hair!

  Several times, she had not been able to prevent herself from admiring Gabriel’s fine, powerful musculature, which showed clearly through his tunic, a blue that perfectly matched his eyes. His wide, strong shoulders advertised his strength and his talents as a warrior, but they also augured well for moments of passion of a far different kind, a more… intimate kind. It had been a real effort for Melora to appear indifferent to Gabriel’s charm.

  And she was dreading the coming evening, the last she would spend with Evan. She was going to tell him that they were finished, and she didn’t want him to think it was for any other reason than the one she planned to give him. She was sad about breaking up, but she had to face the fact that she didn’t love Evan. At least, not like he would have wished. Not like she loved Gabriel, for in spite of all her efforts, she had to admit that she still loved him.

  She missed Caroline so much; she would have liked to share all this with her and ask her for advice…

  A light knock at her door drew her away from her somber thoughts. She was relieved to see Gliton come in, followed by Miss Bridget carrying a tray holding a copious breakfast. she decided not to do anything except enjoy a long, luxurious day of pampering herself.

  After a long bath and a rest, she finished her beauty routine by spraying on a cloud of her favorite perfume – rose, iris and raspberry – to give herself courage to face the evening party. As she left her room to take the deserted hallway leading to the reception rooms, Evan called to her. She turned and saw him. He seemed petrified, like an elegant statue wearing a perfectly cut suit.

  She smiled to encourage him to approach her, and with a hesitant step, he came forward, offering his arm, a strange glow in his eyes.

  “You look magnificent,” he murmured in his affectionate voice.

  Embarrassed, she thanked him and placed her hand on his arm, discreetly inviting him to accompany her.

  When they entered the hall, murmurs of admiration could be heard. Melora glanced around, instinctively searching for Gabriel, but she noticed Viviane first, who smiled engagingly and signed to her to come over. Then she saw him. He was talking with two young, ravishing women; the one with the shiny blond hair looked as if she were drinking in his every word like some delicious wine, while the other blabbered gaily, favoring him with languid glances every few seconds. His tuxedo fit him like a glove, showing off his wide shoulders and slender hips.

  He seems to be having a good time, she thought bitterly.

  As if he’d felt her staring at him, Gabriel turned in her direction, and to her great satisfaction, he immediately stopped paying attention to the young women at his side. He looked at her, hypnotized. Her heart leaped, she felt ecstatic, but only for a second, because when Gabriel’s eyes slid over to Evan, they turned icy.

  Her godmother joined Melora and Evan right then. She led them around the room, introducing her to the new guests who had arrived that afternoon to attend the soirée. When they came up to Gabriel, now leaning nonchalantly against the wall, flanked by his groupies, he gave them a devastating smile. When he looked at her, though, she couldn’t mistake the coldness of his expression.

  “Good evening, Gabriel,” Evan said, intuitively challenging him by wrapping his arm around Melora’s waist to establish his proprietorship.

  “Hello,” Gabriel replied, almost rudely.

  His blue eyes were as hard as stone, their color the translucid waters of a glacier. As the two men stared at each other, the tension became palpable, and obvious to the group. Both men had their reasons for justifying their behavior, reasons that were not that different. To relieve the tension, Viviane hastened to introduce the two young women to Melora, then excused herself for taking Melora and Gabriel away with her without lingering to chat.

  She threw a disapproving look at Gabriel and Evan, then smoothened out her expression until she had recovered her perfectly neutral but smiling countenance. By simply clearing her throat, she attracted everyone’s attention. She launched into a grand speech in which she pronounced Melora and Gabriel as her successors. Loud applause broke out at the end, and the guests returned to their conversations, accompanied by the velvety notes of a cool jazz song.

  Not one of the party-goers was prepared to hear the alarm bell started ringing.

  Patience was not exactly one of my virtues, and I had to dig deep into my verbal genius to counter the attacks of the two young women at my side. I desperately tried to get Galahad to meet my eyes, but he merely observed my situation from his corner of the room, looking amused.

  Suddenly, his face lit up, as if he’d had a celestial vision. Following his gaze, I saw Melora. She wore a long dress of red mousseline, and for the second time, my breath was taken away. She was so resplendent, so beautiful that I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her brunette hair was gathered into an elegant coiffure and her lipstick perfectly matched the red of her dress, whose supple, light skirt disclosed the outline of her splendid legs.

  Dressed like that, she appeared more of a Greek goddess than a mere mortal woman.

  But then, she isn’t human, I remembered. My god, she’s so beautiful!

  I was filled with such strong passion that I almost lost my head. But the surge of heat filling the region of my lower body, which could have become embarrassing, abruptly ceased when I set my eyes on her partner. Ferocious hatred filled me. I was jealous! Yes, jealous of this man holding her by the waist.

  But you can never take his place, I thought vindictively.

  While Viviane was giving her speech, that gloomy thought completely preoccupied me, and when the alarm bell started ringing, I jumped, startled. Galahad instantly ran out of the room, and I followed him with great strides.

  When I reached the top of the guard tower, he was examining the horizon, along with Percival and Geraint.

  “What is it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

  “Our enemies are approaching, a great many of them,” Galahad answered.

  I looked in the direction he indicated. Far off, thousands of torch flames revealed troops marching toward the castle. Galahad spoke into the mic attached to his earpiece, ordering that the drawbridge be raised, the portcullis lowered, and the entrance door closed. He then asked Percival to gather all the gu
ests and bring them down into the castle’s cellars, where they would be safer. Finally, he advised all the knights to prepare for the battle that would soon be raging.

  I rushed to furnish us all with coats of mail, conjuring them up with magic. Even if our armor resembled that of the knights of the Middle Ages, similar in form to what we had worn during the coronation, this armor boasted some modern improvements; for example, the fabric underneath our metal hauberks was woven from synthetic fibers. To my great surprise, however, the Avalonians preferred the traditional shapes.

  Galahad had remained in position, simply waiting. Then, as if he’d received some important communication in his earpiece, he looked toward the lagoon and said, “Hold on…” evidently expecting something to happen. I was about to ask him for an explanation when we were interrupted.

  Viviane, who had joined us, said, “We should have expected this. A large gathering of Avalonians was bound to provoke them to attack, in the hopes of destroying Mordred’s enemies once and for all.”

  I nodded, scrutinizing the horizon beyond the lake, where the moon’s reflection was still glittering.

  Alwena’s soldiers – for I had no doubt it was her army – advanced in silence, obscured by the thick, dark forest. The flickering torchlight combined with the waning moon’s dim glow made the atmosphere seem heavier than it usually was at this time of year.

  “Why isn’t the drawbridge up yet?” I demanded brusquely.

  “Bedivere told me that Bors left to reconnoiter the area an hour ago, and we won’t close up until he’s back,” Galahad said firmly.

  “And if he doesn’t come back?”

  We glared at each other. He opened his mouth, about to speak, when Geraint cried out, “There he is!”

  We all turned to look at the road, where he was pointing. Bors had just emerged from the edge of the forest, riding at full gallop ahead of a group of horsemen.

  Galahad shouted to the door warden, “Be ready there!”

  We watched anxiously as the knight rode like the wind on his charger, without pulling any farther ahead of his pursuers, however. Arrows started flying past him, and we all held our breath.

  “Archers, to your bows!” Galahad now shouted.

  The guardians of Comper had been posted at the top of the wall, ready to intervene. Bors dashed into the compound, his assailants close behind him, but they were stopped abruptly by the portcullis clanging down. Then the great wooden doors slammed shut with a deafening bang, and their mounts reared up, whinnying loudly.

  “Fire!” Galahad ordered.

  A rain of arrows flew down at the enemy chevaliers, and one by one they fell dead from their horses, who galloped off. When the drawbridge started to go up, the men’s inert bodies rolled down the slope to the iron grill, where they were crushed.

  Bors leaped from his saddle and ran across the courtyard as fast as he could, before racing up the tower stairs to join us.

  “Alwena’s assembled a huge number of enemies,” he panted. “Kobolds, black knights, Avalonians and those beasts of stone and earth you call carregs. A group of scouts went ahead, keeping to the shadows – not like these ones, and they’ll soon be at the walls. They’ve got catapults and trebuchets.”

  He stopped to catch his breath, grimacing, and I saw that he was bleeding on his right side, a thin trickle of red coming through the rings of his chainmail vest.

  “You’re wounded!” I exclaimed.

  “It’s nothing,” he grumbled. “Just a scratch from a little arrow, and it won’t stop me from fighting.”

  Viviane stepped in, saying, “Maybe so, but you’ll be more useful if I stop the bleeding.”

  She placed her hand on the wound. Right then, Melora arrived with Gliton, who gave Bors a potion that would speed the healing. That instant, I became conscious that a deep silence had fallen, and I started feeling those familiar pricklings up and down my spine. I had just enough time to yell “Take cover!” before a tempest of arrows fell on the castle, catching us all by surprise. I pulled Melora flat to the ground and covered her with my body while Viviane unleashed a protection screen. I heard agonized groans from our archers and screams of pain from the guards who had remained in the inner courtyard.

  The knights got to their feet and peered into the black night, unable to see anything of our enemy. We heard it though – the whistling sound of a new volley of arrows. Galahad shouted with all his might, “Watch out!” before diving for the ground again. A barrage of stones fell heavily onto the ramparts, ricocheting in all directions like hail on a stormy day.

  We all got to our feet again but before we could even catch our breath, we saw a battalion of enemy troops surging up from ditches dug at the edge of the forest. They were roaring, and shaking their sharp weapons in the air.

  “Archers, shoot!” Galahad brayed.

  A few men fell but most of them continued to advance. Viviane immediately reacted, using the water from the moat to erect a barrier that would prevent them from reaching the castle walls. Destabilized, their progress was slowed, but then the aquatic barrier transformed into ice. There was no longer any doubt: Alwena was there, lurking in the shadows.

  The kobolds spurted forward, filled with rage. They jumped onto the wall, planting their little sabers in the ice to climb up within reach of the crenellated openings.

  “Stand ready!” Galahad warned his men, sword in his hand.

  Every kobold that made it to the top was cut into pieces and pushed off, but to our consternation, it was instantly replaced by other creatures just as vicious. Explosions erupted from the edge of the forest, where we could now see that catapults had been set up. A volley of projectiles landed with loud thwummps onto the rampart walk.

  Fear filled me when I realized what they were.

  “They’re firing carregs at us!” I screamed.

  A drove of creatures equipped with axes and swords landed on our side of the crenellations. Driven by Alwena’s madness, they attacked us, and although we flew at them, we were soon overwhelmed. They seemed to be multiplying! The knights were becoming exhausted in charge after desperate charge. More than once, I parried mortal blows by a fraction of a second, and avoided sword thrusts again and again as I returned to the attack, slicing the air with my blade. Viviane protected Melora and Gliton, who were busy helping the wounded. Down below, in the inner courtyards, the castle’s defenders were just as overpowered.

  “Gabriel, we won’t last long like this,” Galahad gasped.

  I immediately chanted a spell to raise a gust of wind, which lifted up a dozen carregs and kobolds and projected them from the enclosure.

  “That’s not enough!”

  “What do you want me to do?” I retorted in despair.

  “We need our army!” he barked. “The castle is besieged!”

  “I can’t do it!” I cried, looking around desperately, my senses at the boiling point.

  I’d always been able to connect with the natural elements, to draw energy from them, but here, I had nothing at hand with the power to invoke magic – neither water nor trees.

  Viviane saw my panic, and she hurried to me and gripped my hands, crying, “You can do it, Gabriel! I’m absolutely sure you don’t need to touch anything. Call it and it will come to you. Concentrate – we believe in you!”

  Melora looked at me with hope lighting up her face. I couldn’t disappoint her. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and emptied my thoughts, listening to the wind and nothing else.

  Soon, I heard Broceliande whispering, and I called to it. The whispering amplified, and came closer and closer until all at once, the magic of the forest entered me. My veins started to burn, and with a ringing voice, I invoked Arthur’s army: “Yn enw y Brenin Arthur, amddiffyn ei weision!”

  The forest started to wave back and forth, then flashes of light crisscrossed through the trees. The moon’s reflection on silver armor! Viviane commanded the sword Excalibur to present itself. It trembled in its sheath, rose up and broke the window
of the case it was kept in. It flew through the air and into the fairy’s lifted hands.

  “You alone can guide it,” she announced to Melora, handing her the sword.

  “What should I do?” asked the young sovereign, hesitatingly. “I’ve never learned to fight.”

  “Call them and they will fight for you,” Viviane assured her.

  The cries of wounded men rose through the air all around us, amidst the clanging of steel. Melora looked around with dismay at Comper’s soldiers, fighting for her, for Avalon. As she listened to their groans of pain, she seemed to reflect, then I saw her walk up to the ramparts firmly, her set mouth with determination. She raised Excalibur in the direction of Broceliande, took a deep breath and shouted out with authority, in French, “Soldiers, come forth and defend your queen!”

  Another silence fell; time stood still. Then a dull rumbling sound arose, growing louder every second, and the trees shook wildly, cracking and creaking. To my great relief, the rumbling noise came from a vast army of mounted knights surging out from the forest. Their horses’ hooves pounded the ground as they crossed the plain at full gallop, King Arthur’s banner in the front, floating proudly in the wind. Brandishing their silver swords and shouting with resolve, they took the enemy by surprise. Some managed to throw over and burn the catapults, while the rest ripped through Alwena’s troops, dismembering and stabbing kobolds and carregs right and left.

  I had rejoined the knights on the ramparts, and filled with the hopes of saving Comper, we now fought with fresh vigor. The drawbridge was lowered to permit our new army to enter and free us from the last invaders. When victory seemed close at hand, the bellowing of a horn reached us, signaling the enemy to fall back. Despite the annihilation of an entire battalion, many black knights remained in front of the castle, and they were getting dangerously close.