The Iron Chalice

by J. M. Briggs

  “I’m honestly not sure, but that is a very odd way to see things. Sometimes I’ve picked up flashes of the past with my mirror, but dreams of the future or symbolism are far more common.”

  “Well, maybe he didn’t see the past and was instead seeing something else, someplace far away.”

  “That’s possible I suppose,” Morgana agreed with a tilt of her head. “In any case I know it isn’t much to go on, but it may help. Around trying to help Aiden and keeping Merlin from dragging you back here, I’ll see if I can find anything that may help.”

  “You’re doing grail research?”

  “Yes, and feeling rather foolish about it, to be frank,” Morgana admitted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m afraid that I’m not really sure what to look at. There are so many legends that could be connected with the Chalice, but even more that were probably the creation of monks in search of pilgrim traffic.” She rubbed the right side of her head and Alex smiled softly in sympathy. “I’m not sure how much help Merlin and I can be Alex.”

  “Okay: we’ll head back to Wales and keep trying,” Alex promised with a rather forced smile. She wanted to sound confident and brave for Morgana but felt like she was falling a bit short. Nonetheless, Morgana nodded in agreement. “Besides, Lance has pointed out that maybe it is our assumptions based on what we think we know that is distracting us… or something like that.”

  There was an odd flurry of emotions over Morgana’s face that made her look ill for a moment before she settled on a tired and tight smile. Alex almost sighed in irritation. Morgana’s continued discomfort with Lance and Jenny was annoying at best, and at worst made fear and doubt pool at the bottom of Alex’s gut. She had to wonder if Morgana would ever be capable of forgiving the two of them for the crimes of their previous lives, or if there was something more that she was clinging too. But Alex wasn’t brave enough to approach the subject today. She probably would never be.

  The door creaked open as Alex tried to find something to say and Nicki poked her head in. “Some people are on their way up here,” she warned and Alex nodded right before the door closed.

  “Well…” Alex sighed, toying with a strand of her hair. “Anything else?”

  “How is Nicki?”

  “Distant,” Alex muttered with downcast eyes. “She won’t really talk to me right now. She could forgive her parents for abandoning her, but she’s mad about Aiden.”

  “Give her time,” Morgana said kindly. “I doubt she’s really angry with you Alex. You’re just something she can project her frustration on. There is nothing worse than feeling helpless when someone you love is in danger.”

  Raising her eyes back to the screen, Alex’s gray ones met Morgana’s green gaze for a moment. A sense of falling overtook Alex, as if the chair had been pulled out from under her, but thankfully it faded into other emotions. There was something like guilt, understanding and a sense of shared pain suddenly clutching at her throat. Alex managed a cough and a weak nod. Something felt rubbed raw in her chest and she could see the feeling reflected in Morgana’s eyes.

  The door banged open a moment later with two loud boys hauling bags over their shoulders coming into the room. One of them was tall with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He grinned at her and Alex felt herself tense up: he reminded her far too much of Arthur. She managed a shaky smile in return as they tossed their bags onto their bunks. Looking back towards the doorway Alex saw Nicki watching them carefully. A soft sigh escaped Alex and she looked back down at her screen. Forcing a smile she waved at Morgana.

  “Bye, Morgana, talk to you soon.”

  “Good luck.” Morgana nodded and gave her a warm smile. “Take care of each other.”

  “We will,” Alex promised as the video feed was cut, and she was left wondering if Morgana had even heard her.

  8

  Break a Few Eggs

  Warm sunlight poured into the decently-sized kitchen, illuminating the pale-yellow walls and white cabinets. A slight chill was seeping inside around the pane of glass as the winter cold persisted outside. In the middle of the kitchen was a long white island with yellow trim to match the walls, and mismatched black and red stools. Lingering in the doorway of the kitchen, Nicki watched a few specs of dust float gently through the sunbeam. Everything was very still in the hostel. At the front desk was a sleepy man a bit older than her with his head pillowed on his arms.

  The main sitting room behind her was a mess with odds and ends from guests scattered about, along with a few half-crushed water bottles that didn’t smell like water. Last night there had been a rowdy crowd of boys who came in late, but this morning it was quiet. Nicki thought that she just might hate it as she shook her head and walked into the kitchen with a bag of groceries clutched in her right hand.

  Nicki thought she heard someone moving around upstairs as she dried off a large skillet pan and dug out some matches for the stove. There was the sound of a shower being turned on and Nicki sighed softly at the intrusion but kept working. She found a splash of oil in the cupboard by an opened box of white rice and half-a-box of crackers. Pulling the eggs out of her grocery bag, she delicately cracked four of them into the pan and began to wait.

  Taking a deep breath, Nicki held it for a long moment as she watched the eggs beginning to cook. The pan’s handle wobbled in her grip, but she was still grateful for the decently stocked kitchen and the small store down the block. The shower overhead turned off after a few minutes as she flipped the eggs. Digging around in another cupboard Nicki found a few small paper packets of salt and pepper. There were a couple of colorful plastic plates stashed in a drawer by the sink, along with some flatware that had seen better days.

  “Oh… morning,” Alex greeted in a weak little voice that broke into Nicki’s concentration.

  Straightening up, Nicki turned towards the doorway only to falter when she saw Alex. The other girl was lingering in the doorway with uncertainty written all over her face. The dark bags that had dominated Alex’s features for the last few days were still clearly visible. Her long, wet blonde hair was in a tight braid over one shoulder, making Alex look more like a wet, little kitten that was afraid it was about to be kicked than some supernatural savior. Nicki felt like a bitch; the sort that she’d hated all through school who punished with little whispers behind your back and battled with cold silence.

  “Morning,” Nicki said, forcing herself to meet Alex’s eyes. She couldn’t quite manage a smile, but she knew Alex deserved better than she’d been getting. “Take a seat, I’ve got some eggs ready.”

  “I don’t want to take your breakfast,” Alex said quickly.

  “It's fine,” Nicki insisted. She grabbed a bright blue plate and one of the slightly bent forks and dished up a couple of the eggs. “I’ve got a dozen eggs so there’ll be plenty for everyone.” She slid the plate over in front of an empty seat at the island. Tossing some of the salt and pepper packets up next to the plate, Nicki turned back to the stove and cracked a few more eggs into the pan. “How did you sleep?”

  “Okay.” Alex slid into the seat in front of the plate of eggs. “It was nice talking to Morgana,” she admitted with a small smile in her eyes. “That seemed to help.”

  “Good, uh, did you have any luck with Pem… wherever she suggested that we go?”

  “There isn’t much there,” Alex admitted with a small grimace. “I really hate it, but we are really relying on Bran’s visions to guide us.”

  “Yeah….” Nicki flipped one of the fried eggs. Overhead she heard a shower turn on again, signaling that someone else in the hostel was awake and moving. “It’s not like in the films or books is it?’

  “Huh?”

  “Well you know, in the books and movies the people who hid something left clues so that it could be found,” Nicki explained as she waved the spatula around. “And the clues always survive even if it’s been hundreds of years.”

  “This isn’t a book or a movie,” Alex pointed out with a strange, little smile
and a shake of her head. “Though god knows it seems like it sometimes. But sadly we haven’t got any clues to follow, and even if there had been clues they would have been long gone after two thousand years. Between wars, building, and people just living their lives, it would all be gone.”

  “I am the grass; I cover all,” Nicki intoned as she turned back to the pan.

  “I’m not sure that’s the best quote for this conversation, but true,” Alex agreed as she looked around the kitchen. “Is there any coffee?”

  “There’s a coffee maker over there.” Nicki gestured towards the old brown and black machine shoved back in a corner on the counter. She managed a small smile for Alex this time and pointed to the small plastic bag on the counter. “And I picked up some at the shop this morning. Figured if we’re going to be doing this hostel thing then we should stock up on some stuff.”

  “I bow to your superior wisdom,” Alex replied seriously with a deep nod as she dug out the small package of coffee.

  They both worked on their small tasks for a few minutes in silence. The smell of the simple black coffee made Nicki’s nose curl, but Alex emerged from the large fridge a moment later with a victorious grin.

  “Found some milk,” Alex said as she opened the top and sniffed at it. “Still good too.”

  “Does it have a name on it?”

  “Nope, better: it has a sticky note saying help yourself.”

  “I’m not so sure about this hostel thing,” Nicki muttered with a shake of her head. “But I suppose we’ll risk it.”

  “I doubt the fairies snuck in and poisoned it on the off chance that we’d drink it.” Alex rolled her eyes, but Nicki saw her sniff at the milk again and swirl the small jug.

  “I don’t know; you remember all those stories about them making milk go bad,” Nicki said with a small smirk. “But yeah, it’s probably fine. The girl at the desk this morning did say that lots of people leave the perishable stuff here when they leave. Most of it gets eaten and the rest they throw away.”

  “A weird solution, but I think I might just like it,” Alex agreed.

  Alex set the milk near the coffee and poured herself a small mug as the dark liquid. Nicki turned her attention back to the eggs in the pan as Alex returned to the island and began nibbling at her eggs. Movement overhead made them both look up, and Nicki noticed Alex shifting her left hand very deliberately so it was on the counter next to her. Around her fork, the fingers of her right hand twitched. For a moment, Nicki was torn between smiling at the fact that Alex was developing fighting instincts and regret that she’s had to. Perhaps the biggest hint that Alex was the real Iron Soul was that it was Alex who had been in the biggest confrontations so far. While she’d been the last of them to develop her magic, it had been Alex who was taken into the Sídhe tunnels and fought her way out, and it had been Alex who had seemingly protected Arthur when Lance and Jenny’s cheating came to light.

  The footsteps overhead moved down the hall above them, and Nicki looked towards the main entrance and eyed the bottom of the stairs. It was the rhythm of the footfalls that made Nicki relax and smile. She could just hear the slightly metallic sound of Bran’s brace that accompanied his steps and could make out the soft thump of his cane against the stairs. Alex seemed to have noticed the same thing and set down her fork so she could turn to look at the stairs. Grimacing as Bran came into view, Nicki took in his tired appearance and noted that he was leaning on his cane a bit more than usual. His wet hair hadn’t been combed and to her surprise revealed that it had a natural curl.

  “Morning,” Alex called to him as she shifted uncertainly in her chair.

  Bran gave them both a tired smile and waved them off as he moved to the kitchen island. Propping his cane up against the wooden side of the island he leveraged himself into one of the chairs. Nicki stepped back after a moment and turned to check on the eggs quickly before looking back at Bran only to find him looking right at her.

  “Do I smell coffee?” he asked her with wide green eyes, looking at her imploringly. He reminded her a little bit of a puppy, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d started whimpering. “Please tell me I smell coffee.”

  “Coming right up,” Alex said kindly, jumping away from the counter and moving to retrieve another mug from the cabinets. “Nicki is making eggs,” Alex added quickly as she pulled down another plate.

  Nicki took the plate from Alex and began dishing up a couple of fried eggs for Bran as Alex poured a cup of coffee. Alex took the plate from her as she walked back to the island and handed both to Bran. A soft, happy sigh escaped him and Nicki smiled as she dished up a couple of the cooked eggs for herself before cracking a couple more into the pan along with another dash of oil. She turned back to the others with her plate in hand and cut a small bite of her own eggs. Bran’s eyes darted between her and Alex as he quickly consumed one of his eggs before setting down his fork with a determined expression.

  “I had a dream…,” Bran confessed carefully before he took a long sip of his coffee. “It was underground again, and I saw the Chalice and the skull, but…” he shivered and looked down into his coffee. “The eyes started glowing, the skull’s eyes I mean and then… I don’t know, it was like I was being pushed back or something. I didn’t really move or anything, but I felt and saw this tunnel shift around me.”

  “Well, that hints that it could be in a large cave somewhere,” Alex offered with a rather forced smile. She was twisting her fingers together nervously. “There’s that at least.”

  “How does that help?” Bran muttered as he rubbed his eyes; frustration obvious on his face.

  “It means that we probably aren’t looking at a mining network,” Alex pointed out gently as she gripped her own cup of coffee. “Just one tunnel, so it’s probably more isolated. That will hopefully make it easier to find.”

  Bran smiled a little bit at Alex’s words, and Nicki conceded that she did have a point. It wasn’t much to go on, but it at least ruled out a couple of things. At least it seemed to. For a few moments everyone was silent, and Alex nudged Bran’s shoulder slightly and nodded towards his eggs. Then there was only the sound of the three mages eating and the subtle hiss of the eggs cooking on the stove.

  “I figured we’d find the Iron Chalice stashed under a church somewhere,” Nicki offered with a small chuckle. “In some kind of old carved out chamber with the remains of a saint or something. Guess we can rule that out.”

  “I’m not sure that an iron cup would have been what they were looking for,” Alex pointed out with a hesitant smile in her direction. “Holy Grail mythology usually has a golden chalice with jewels or something. They probably would have scoffed at a hunk of iron as far too common.”

  “Indiana Jones didn’t,” Bran reminded her, glancing between Nicki and Alex with a small growing smile. “That was the trick at the end of the movie remember: the right cup was the wooden one. The golden ones caused your body to turn to dust.”

  “I remember, but it was more like it caused the body to age and decay at a fast rate rather than it just turning to dust,” Nicki pointed out as she turned back to the pan of eggs to flip them over quickly before looking back at Bran. “But they were also looking in the Middle East for the actual Holy Grail of Christian mythology, not the apparent Celtic chalice that inspired the later European myth.”

  “True, but take a moment and enjoy the fact that we’re on a grail quest,” Bran told her with a grin now firmly in place as he gestured with his coffee cup towards Alex. “With the actual King Arthur, or you know, close to.”

  “I don’t think Arthur did well in that myth actually,” Alex said with a grimace and a pained expression. “It was Galahad who found the Grail only to vanish with it, and only one knight survived; I don’t even remember which one it was.”

  “Well serves you right for not bringing Galahad with us,” Nicki huffed with a raised eyebrow only to get an odd look from Bran.

  “Galahad?”

  “It’s the name o
f… my stuffed puppy,” Alex replied with a red blush creeping up her cheeks.

  Bran didn’t laugh, but a fond expression took over his face before it turned thoughtful. “I wonder if that is significant,” he muttered thoughtfully. “You being drawn to the name Galahad I mean. I’m not really clear on if he might have a historical counterpart. The name sounds sort of Welsh, but I don’t think he fits into the life of the original Arto.”

  “Me neither,” Alex agreed with a shrug and an obvious look of discomfort that she was fighting her way through. “Merlin and Morgana don’t share much. I only just found out the name of the Iron Soul incarnation who made the Chalice after all.”

  “It’s probably hard to talk about the past when you’ve got so much of it,” Bran suggested, still looking thoughtful for a moment. “But anyway, is the plan still to head for Wales today?” he asked, shaking his head a bit and picking his fork back up.

  “Yeah, we’ll go and get tickets back to Cardiff once Jenny and Lance make an appearance,” Alex agreed with a nod, pushing her empty plate away. “Then we need to look at options to go west.”