Children of Avalon

by Meredith Bond

  “That I would die to save others,” I said, aware that no one else would.

  “Er, yes, to save mankind, actually,” he admitted a little sheepishly.

  “Wouldn’t completely trust that one, don’t you know?” Sir Dagonet interjected.

  James turned to look at the old knight. “What do you mean, sir?”

  “Oh, it’s just that, well, Merlin, not infallible, don’t you know?”

  “I’d heard that everything he’d said had come true,” Thomas argued.

  Sir Dagonet nodded. “Nearly everything.”

  They all waited in silence for him to continue.

  “Er, yes, well,” Sir Dagonet said after a moment. “Said that he and Lady Nimuë would be together for eternity, didn’t he? And, well, we all know how that turned out, wot, wot?”

  “I’d never heard that,” James said.

  “Oh yes, common knowledge. Anyway, don’t think we should start digging Scai’s grave just yet, all I meant to say, don’t you know?”

  We all laughed a little uncomfortably, but inside of me everything seemed to sigh with relief.

  James looked over at Bridget and continued with his reporting. “The prophecy said that the seventh child’s heirs would heal the world of the Vallen.”

  Bridget paled a little. “That would be me? I’m the seventh child in our family.”

  He nodded and then went on. “There was more, but Old Maud really couldn’t remember—she hasn’t heard the prophecy since just before Scai was born twenty years ago. The only other thing she could remember with certainty was that the prophecy did mention Merlin’s chalice.”

  “It did?” both Bridget and I said in unison.

  He gave a little laugh, “Yes, sisters, it did. Unfortunately, Old Maud couldn’t remember what it said,” he finished on a more somber note.

  “Well, but if it mentioned me and Scai along with the chalice, then surely we should be destined to find it,” Bridget said, standing up and beginning to pace around the room.

  “Can’t tell you how many people have tried to find it over the years,” Sir Dagonet said. “No one has, naturally.”

  “And clearly, Dylan is another one of those treasure seekers,” Bridget said in exasperation, as if the chalice were already hers and Dylan was preparing to steal it.

  “But because it’s been impossible to find, most people think it’s a myth—that it doesn’t really exist,” Thomas said. And, more softly, he concluded, “And it may not, for all we know.”

  “Well, don’t know about that...” Sir Dagonet protested feebly.

  I noticed the fingers of his right hand playing with something at his wrist. It was a funny habit he had whenever he was nervous.

  “Well, but if it does exist...” I began.

  “Then we are destined to find it,” Bridget finished for me.

  “What I was going to say,” I began again, ignoring Bridget who was quickly feeling more like a true sister to me, “is that if it does exist, then maybe Dylan knows where it is.”

  Bridget frowned at me. I reached out and gave her shoulders a squeeze and she turned it into a smile instead.

  “Excellent point, Scai,” Sir Dagonet said, sitting up.

  “But since it was mentioned in a prophecy that spoke about us, then it’s ours, not his,” Bridget said with growing enthusiasm. “What does it matter what he knows or doesn’t know? We don’t want him to get it, do we? It’s ours. We’re going to find it and we’re going use it.”

  All of the brothers glanced at each other nervously. Clearly, they knew the direction in which Bridget’s mind was going, and they weren’t at all happy about it.

  “Now Bridget...” Thomas said, as the voice of reason.

  “No! Don’t you even dare try to talk me out of this one. I’m not going to allow that sneaky, underhanded Dylan find something that rightfully belongs to me—and certainly not something as powerful as Merlin’s chalice! Can you imagine what would happen if he got his hands on it? I don’t even want to—”

  “Bridget, calm down,” I said, trying to sooth her with my voice the way Dylan did.

  “...contemplate such a thing. He is...”

  But I didn’t have his magic. “Bridget!” I said again, but she still didn’t hear me.

  “Usually physically grabbing her and forcing her to look at you will work,” Matthias said, laughing at my attempts to get our sister’s attention.

  I looked at Matthias for a moment and then smiled as the answer came to me. “I don’t need to use physical force.” I stood up and caught my sister’s eye. Adding a touch of magic to my voice, I said, “Bridget, calm down and please listen to us.”

  Bridget stopped her harangue and frowned at me.

  “Fine. What?” She then paused for a moment, blinked, then cocked her head to one side. “What did you just do to me? Did you use magic on me?”

  “Yes,” I admitted, wondering if perhaps I shouldn’t have. “I’m sorry, but you just weren’t listening.”

  “Oh! Good work,” Matthias exclaimed. “I didn’t even think of doing that.”

  Piers and Peter burst out laughing. “That’s because you can’t,” Piers said.

  The other brothers all laughed while Matthias turned pink.

  A warm breeze filtered into the room as I looked around at all of my brothers. I had never been so very happy as I was now in the heart of my family—my family! I almost pinched myself to see if I was dreaming.

  “I believe it would behoove you to find out what Dylan knows, wot, wot?” Sir Dagonet said, smiling at me and Bridget and bringing the conversation back to where it should have been. “He was headed in this direction before we even met up with him. Seems to have already been on his quest to find the chalice, don’t you know?”

  “But why would he help us?” Bridget asked.

  Sir Dagonet shrugged. “Because you might have some information that could help him.”

  “But we don’t know anything,” I argued.

  “You may not think you do, but you might know more than you know you know, wot?”

  “What?”

  “Precisely!”

  We all burst out laughing.

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying, Sir Dagonet,” I said, “but I’m willing to try talking with Dylan if he is willing to speak to me.”

  “Even after all he’s done to you?” Bridget asked, aghast.

  I shrugged. “It’s easy for me to accept that he’s done bad things to me—people always have.” And then I added, trying not to sound as embarrassed as I felt, “It’s when people are being kind and accepting, as you all have been, that I find it harder to understand.”

  “I thought you said you were treated well in Wales?” Thomas asked, a note of anger staining his voice.

  “I was,” I said quickly. “Father Llewellyn was wonderful and kind and loving. It was the townspeople. Well, everyone except my closest friend, Aron. He was always kind and always defended me—and got into too many fights on my behalf.”

  Yes, I could easily understand Dylan. He was going for what he wanted and wasn’t going to let anyone get in his way. This new family of mine, on the other hand, just confused me, making me feel awkward and wonderful at the same time. They were like Aron and Father, only even more so. They were kind, accepting and generous—and they didn’t even know me very well. “I know it sounds strange, but I like Dylan, and I don’t think he truly meant to harm anyone,” I added aloud.

  “Well, I don’t,” Bridget said vehemently. “I don’t trust him.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I think that we should go out on our own to find the chalice.”

  “Do you really?” James asked, quite surprised.

  Bridget looked at him for a moment before answering, but then she said firmly, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “You really want to leave us?” Matthias asked.

  Bridget’s eyes softened. “No! Oh no, of course not. You all know that I love you and would hate to leave you, but...”<
br />
  “But this is something that you’ve got to do,” Thomas finished for her.

  She gave him a little smile, her spark returning. “Yes.”

  “Well, but we can’t do it on our own,” I persisted. “Let’s try talking to Dylan first, and if it doesn’t work, then we’ll try it your way, all right?”

  Bridget didn’t look happy at this, but she had begun to look tired. Clearly, although she claimed that she was fully recovered, she still needed some more rest. “Very well,” she said, reluctantly.

  I turned to Sir Dagonet. “Perhaps after dinner you can go and see if you can find Dylan?”

  “If he hasn’t already left to find the chalice,” Bridget added in a sulky voice.

  “Yes, of course. Happy to, wot, wot?”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Power,” Father du Lac said almost to himself, “it is all about power.”

  He leaned against the battlements and looked out with a scowl at the rolling green pastures that surrounded Lord Lefevre’s castle. “That is why I learned all I could from Merlin—everyone knows that he was the most powerful wizard ever. And he taught me everything. He shared his power with me.” Du Lac turned to the wide–eyed cleric who stood next to him.

  The man had paled considerably. This was a good sign.

  At first the fellow had only looked worried, as du Lac had outlined for him the nature of the position for which he had been called. Spying was not something clergymen were typically asked to do, and certainly not from one of the most powerful priests in the land. Du Lac was known for being secure in his position.

  “Surely, Father,” the man had stated, “the King would never set you aside. I should not think you have anything to fear.”

  Father du Lac nodded, conceding his excellent point. “No, you are right. The King never would set me aside.”

  “But then why do you need me? Are you certain...” the man began.

  “Am I certain? Am I certain that I am behaving in a reasonable manner? Is that what you are asking?”

  “Well...”

  Du Lac cocked his head at the man and studied him for a moment, reading him. “What is it, Father?” He tried to keep the mocking tone from his voice.

  “It’s just that...well, sir...”

  “You think I am getting too old,” du Lac stated. He nodded, pulling his thick grey eyebrows down over his eyes—almost as if he were in agreement. “You worry for my sanity.”

  “Well, Father, it’s...it’s just that...” the younger man began to stammer but could not bring himself to lie.

  Du Lac laughed. “But you see, I am actually much older than you think. If I mention Merlin, it is because I knew him, personally. I assure you, however, that my mind is fully alert. And it is not Father du Lac for whom you are going to spy,” she said as she turned fully toward the man—the façade she had worn for so many years falling away.

  Even as the man watched, du Lac lost nearly a foot in height. His broad shoulders narrowed and a bosom swelled beneath his costly, albeit plain, tunic. His face softened into a woman’s face—the sagging jowls turning into a firm jaw line, the old wrinkles smoothing out to reveal sharp, high cheek bones, piercing green eyes and full lips caught up in a sneer. She was not as fair as her sister but knew herself to be beautiful, even as wisps of her long, curly black hair fought with the light wind that swirled around them.

  “Oh yes, I am quite, quite old.” She paused, but then, ignoring the abject terror on the priest’s face, continued with her earlier train of thought as if nothing had happened. “They all cried for poor Merlin when I trapped him in that tree, you know,” she said softly, enjoying the fact that the cleric had begun to shake visibly. He backed himself against the outside wall of the parapet, trying to get as far away from her as he dared.

  “But he knew what was coming. He knew very well what was happening, and yet he did nothing to stop it. He knew I had the one thing he could not control—his heart. It was mine from the moment we met and he was powerless to do anything about it. He accepted that and I respect him for doing so.”

  She turned back toward the meadows. “Yes, I, Nimuë, bested the most powerful wizard ever,” she said, wistfully. “My sister, Morgan, tried to take my power from me. She tried, but she was not clever enough. I enjoyed destroying her reputation—she went from the beautiful, kindhearted and talented Lady of Avalon to the villain of Arthur’s reign.” Nimuë laughed, remembering. But then her smile slipped off her face. “And now some children think they can just come and kill me? Ha! They do not stand a chance.”

  “Ch–children?” the priest stammered. He looked at the door that led down into the courtyard then back at Nimuë.

  She took a few steps toward the door before he could move in that direction. She wasn’t finished yet. “They’re not actually children,” she said, with a negligent wave of her hand. “They are powerful, all three of them, but they shall not best me. They shall not!” Nimuë calmed herself and turned back to the cleric. “You will watch them. I want to know what they are doing, where they are going, and what they are planning. And then you will lure them outside Gloucester’s northern gate.” She paused and then added, “I will have a little...surprise waiting for them.”

  The man’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, just a few friends to help convince them that they should come with me. That is all,” she said airily, as if she were planning a day in the park.

  But the man’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. From somewhere deep inside him, the fellow seemed to have found his backbone. “What do you plan on doing to these children?” he asked.

  “Not children!”

  “What are you planning to do to these people?” the priest corrected himself.

  “I shall capture them,” she replied, switching to a lighter tone of voice.

  The man’s shoulders lowered with relief.

  “Then steal their powers and kill them, naturally,” she finished.

  The cleric’s jaw dropped. “But you can’t just...”

  “I can’t? I can’t just what?”

  “Kill innocent children—people!” he corrected.

  Nimuë smiled. She laughed. The man’s eyes widened.

  “But...but why?” the cleric stammered out.

  “Why? Why do I want them destroyed?” she snapped. She took a deep breath to regain her composure. “Because with their powers I will become the most powerful Vallen in history, idiot. I am the most powerful one here, but I will be the most powerful ever, anywhere.”

  “But then why do you fear...”

  “I fear nothing and no one!”

  “And yet you plan on killing these innocents,” the man argued.

  “It is the prophecy,” Nimuë growled. “This power will render her accursed, unless the trio all die first. Or she will be...destroyed by one and children three,” she recited. “Clearly I have to kill them before they kill me.”

  “I...I can’t allow you...” His whole body once again began to tremble with fright, but he stood his ground.

  Nimuë took the two steps that separated them, anger flaring in her gut. “You cannot allow me? You cannot allow me to what?” she whispered, closing the distance between them.

  “To...to kill these children,” he whispered.

  “Oh, really?” she said, putting her fingertips on his shoulders.

  He nodded, leaning away from her. His hands fumbled behind him, trying to find the wall that pressed against his legs.

  “No one,” she said, leaning forward, “no one tells me what I can and cannot do.”

  The cleric leaned backwards even more, trying to get away from her, but there was nowhere to go.

  “You do understand, do you not?”

  The fellow’s arms began to windmill behind him as he fought to keep his balance.

  “I will simply have to find someone else,” she said, stepping back as the man finally lost his fight with gravity and fell over the wall. She paused to watch as he fell, his face twisted in ter
ror.

  Just as he was about to be shattered on the hard ground, she gestured with her hand. The man stopped his descent in mid–air. Smiling grimly, she twisted his body so that his feet were nearly touching the ground and then released him so that he dropped the rest of the way, landing lightly on his toes.

  With only the briefest look back up at her, the priest fled for the nearby woods, running so fast he almost tripped over his robes.

  As her anger calmed within her, Nimuë wondered at her generosity. Would he tell anyone what he had seen and heard? Perhaps she should have just let him die.

  No, even if he did tell anyone, who would believe him?

  Determined and possibly a little power–hungry she might be, but a petty murderer she was not—she only killed when she had to.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Following Sir Dagonet’s directions the next morning, Bridget and I drove out of the city in our brothers’ wagon. I rubbed the cold perspiration from my palms, yet again. I hated this feeling of sweating in the chilly autumn air, but I just couldn’t help feeling apprehensive.

  The last time I’d really seen Dylan, aside from the few moments after the fire, he’d been doing everything he could to stop me from meeting my family. Now I was trying to put that behind me. Father Llewellyn had always taught me to turn the other cheek, and somehow, despite the teasing and cruelty of the village children, I had learned to do so. So now, I dredged up all of my learned patience and fixed my eyes firmly forward. I refused to let my anger and hurt color my relationship with Dylan. We were going to have to work together to find this chalice. It would do me no good to hold on to negative feelings.

  I took a deep breath and felt the wind ruffle through my hair. Opening my heart and mind to it, I let all my emotions blow away on the breeze. I would do much better with a clear and open mind this morning.

  I glanced over at Bridget, wishing that I could teach her the same trick. Her eyes stared fiercely ahead as she navigated our way out of the city. Her mouth was pinched, and I could see the embers of anger in the pink of her cheeks.