Bridging the Storm

by Meredith Bond

  How odd that his magic was so strong, she thought, as she fell asleep. He was a man. Men, boys were such weak creatures.

  Chapter Twelve

  TATIANA WATCHED CLOSELY the following morning as two footmen carefully lowered the filthy chandelier in the main hall. So many years of it being tended from below had left it filled with cobwebs and dust.

  Kit had told her to do something else, something distracting. There couldn’t be anything more distracting than cleaning, and clearly it hadn’t been done this past spring.

  “You have done a shoddy job at maintaining this house, Mrs. Worth,” she said to the housekeeper, who stood by the steps watching the process as well. The woman wisely said nothing.

  As soon as the chandelier was low enough to reach, two maids rushed in with cloths to wipe away the years’ worth of dust and grime and replace the candles with new ones. As they did so, the fixture suddenly dropped another foot, nearly falling all the way to the floor.

  “What are you two doing?” Tatiana shouted, fury bursting into flame within her. It had been simmering ever since she awoke with the thought that they still had no cure for the boys and baby Caroline. But their incompetence at handing such a menial task was enough to make any woman scream. A roll of thunder shook the old stones of the Abbey.

  “I’m sorry, my lady, it’s heavy,” one of the footmen said, beads of sweat dripping down his face.

  “Are you unable to do the job?” she asked him, as the flames of her anger tickled the back of her throat. Lightening cracked outside.

  “No ma’am, er, my lady,” the boy protested.

  “I don’t trust you. You are going to drop my chandelier.” She turned and caught the eye of the footman by the door, the one she’d turned into a dog the other day. Now returned to his natural state, he looked quite strong enough to handle the job.

  She pointed to him. “You. Take over his position.”

  The man jumped, running over to take hold of the rope from the other footman. As they made the exchange, Tatiana pulled on her magic, already heightened with her anger, and centered it into her core.

  “And you,” she said, pointing to the newly freed boy, “can go out to the stables until you learn better behavior.” With a swift release of her power he changed into a dog.

  Gasps echoed through the hall, but when she swung around to see who had uttered them, everyone seemed preoccupied with the chandelier.

  “Oh! I say!” A disapproving voice came from mid–way up the stair.

  Sir Arthur continued to make his way down into the hall. The storm outside grew fiercer with nearly every step he took. How dare he speak out against her within her own home? He had nothing positive to add to this ordeal or the sick room.

  “You cannot disapprove of my making some use of this magic that you have taught me, Sir Arthur. I’ve got to find some benefit for it, do I not? It was certainly of no help in curing my children.”

  The man paused at the bottom of the stairs and just looked at her, an odd hurt in his eyes. “I never said it would, did I now?” he said quietly.

  “You hinted as much,” she snapped.

  He shook his head. A lock of red hair fell into his green eyes that darkened by the moment as he fought to control his emotions. “No, I did not. But I am very sorry to hear that your children are not doing any better.”

  “At least Jamie is no worse for the experience,” she conceded, trying to calm herself down as well. Rain no longer pounded at the windows.

  Her guest nodded.

  “Have you got any other tricks up your sleeve, Sir Arthur? Anything else that Nimuë or the Children of Avalon were able to do that might help?” she asked.

  “No. I’m very sorry, I do not.”

  “What? Did they do nothing else remarkable or of interest?”

  He just shook his head. “Nothing that would help your children, my lady.”

  “And what do you know of helping my children?” she hissed, her anger spiking once again. “How do you know what would help them?” The burning inside of her intensified, as did the storm outside.

  “I do not. You’re absolutely correct,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest as they all watched the footman pull the chandelier back up toward the ceiling.

  He knew more magic; he just wouldn’t tell it to her. She could sense his reluctance not only in his stance, but in his mind as well. He showed no fear of her reading his mind, oddly enough, and she reluctantly admired that.

  “The next one,” she said, pointing down the hall toward the other chandelier that hung further away from the front door. As everyone trooped towards it, she lifted her chin. “Then why do you presume to tell me that you do not know of more magic?”

  The man shook his head; a look of concern replaced the hurt in his eyes. “I can tell you of more magic, my lady, but…”

  “Then do so!” She would not allow him his fit of pique. Oh, she knew that she shouldn’t have changed Jamie into a puppy so quickly. Perhaps she hadn’t handled that magic as well as she might have, but that didn’t give Sir Arthur the right to judge her—nor to withhold his knowledge. He was there to share what magic he knew, to do what he could to help cure the children. He had promised to do so, and now he sat on his knowledge like the prince on his throne.

  With a sigh, Sir Arthur watched the footman slowly lower the other chandelier.

  “What is going on here? And who was that dog we just saw heading toward the stables? Tatiana?” Kit asked, shaking water off his jacket. He must have just come in with Kate for they were both soaking wet.

  “I am seeing to the cleaning of the chandeliers, as you see, my lord. Our housekeeper has been negligent in her care of our home, I’m afraid. I am tempted to relieve her of her duties.”

  “Mrs. Worth has been here for thirty years, Tatiana, you may not fire her,” the lord of the manor said in a way that would brook no arguments.

  Tatiana’s anger spiked. How dare he tell her how to run her own house and in front of the servants and their guest? More lightening crashed as the front door closed with finality. “The footman, who nearly dropped a chandelier with his incompetence, has been banished to the stables until he can learn to do as he is told.”

  “Those chandeliers look mighty heavy,” Sir Arthur said, watching the two footmen pull the second sparkling fixture toward the ceiling.

  “They probably weigh close to two hundred pounds each,” Kit said, nodding.

  “Most likely, the footman didn’t have the strength…” Kate began.

  “Then he shouldn’t have accepted the position to help,” Tatiana said, cutting off her niece.

  “Most likely he wasn’t given a choice,” Sir Arthur said half to himself.

  Tatiana opened her mouth to give him a scathing set–down when Kit interrupted her. “Come, my dear,” he said, holding out his arm. “You should be resting, not cleaning the house.”

  “You told me yesterday that I should find another occupation,” she reminded her husband.

  He stopped and smiled at her. “I did indeed.” He watched the footman pull the chandelier up toward the ceiling. “And this was what you chose to do? I had actually meant for you to see to your garden, or the plants in the observatory. Something more relaxing.”

  “This is satisfying,” she said, with a wave of her hand in the general direction of the ceiling.

  “I’m glad. But now, why don’t we let the staff get back to their ordinary duties. And if you could bring out the sun once again, we can take a stroll in the garden. I’m certain that it wasn’t meant to rain today, was it?”

  She gave a little shrug. “Perhaps not. But the flowers will be happy for it, I imagine.”

  “Yes. I’m sure that you’re right. But some fresh air will make you feel much better. Why don’t you send your maid for a sturdier pair of shoes and your parasol?”

  Kit always knew just what would calm her and make her feel better. With a sigh, she took his arm and gave Mrs. Worth a nod to send for he
r maid.

  They retreated to the library to await her things. She indicated to Sir Arthur that he should join them. The man looked a little hesitant. Out of the corner of her eye, Tatiana saw Kate slip back outside. It was good for the girl to get some exercise, just so long as she wasn’t supposed to be tutoring the older children or seeing to the younger ones.

  “Sir Arthur was about to tell me about some more magic, weren’t you, sir?” Tatiana said as they entered the room.

  “There has been so much magic done through the ages, Lady Vallentyn, I wouldn’t know what to tell you.”

  “I am most interested in the Children on Avalon, as you know,” Tatiana said, holding on to her temper this time.

  Sir Arthur shook his head. “There were terrible things done to them—emotions toyed with, a terrible rash covering poor Dylan at one point, trees made to move this way and that to attack us as we rode through the forest.”

  “Trees made to move?” Tatiana asked, her interest peeked.

  “Yes, from quite a distance, too. I don’t quite know where Nimuë was when she moved the trees to attack us. All I know is that we had quite a time fighting them. Two of Bridget’s brothers were injured when a tree picked them up and then dropped them. It was nasty business, I’ll tell you.”

  “Not nearly as nasty as one’s own child dying.”

  He turned toward her. For a moment it looked as if he might reach out to touch her, but then his hand stopped and returned to his side. “No. Nothing nearly as horrid as that.”

  His pity only fueled the flames of her anger. How dare he—a nobody—feel pity for her, the high priestess of all the Vallen? “And just how do you expect playing with trees can help cure my children? What an absolutely ridiculous thing to recall. Totally useless! You and your magic—”

  “Tatiana!” The harshness of Kit’s voice startled her.

  “As I said, my lady, I did not think that it would. You asked me to name the magic that I know of,” Sir Arthur finished, his words quiet and filled with patience.

  “Why did Lady Nimuë attack you with trees, Sir Arthur?” Kit asked, his voice softening again.

  Sir Arthur glanced around the room for a moment, perhaps trying to remember or form his answer in his mind. “Miss Cherington is not here?” he asked instead of answering Kit.

  “I saw her go out,” Tatiana answered, trying to keep her patience.

  Kit looked a little perplexed. “She did say that she’d wanted to go for a walk, earlier.”

  Sir Arthur seemed satisfied. “Haven’t told her how old I am,” he explained.

  That made sense, Tatiana thought. She hadn’t told Kit’s niece who Sir Arthur truly was either.

  Kit nodded his understanding as well.

  “We were on our way to find Lady Nimuë when the trees attacked,” Sir Arthur said, finally answering Kit’s question. “I’m sure she knew as much and was trying to either stop us altogether or at the very least delay us.”

  “It must have made for an interesting time of it,” Kit said, giving the young, no, old man a smile. It was hard to remember sometimes that one who looked so young, was in fact, nearly a thousand years old.

  Sir Arthur chuckled. “That it did, my lord, that it did.”

  “But you know of no other magic…” Tatiana started again.

  “My love, how could he?” Kit asked.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord,” Sir Arthur said, interrupting Kit.

  “Yes?” both she and Kit answered at the same time.

  He gave a little chuckle and then said, “All this talk about the Children of Avalon is making me wonder… Have you asked Merlin if he knows of way to save the children?”

  Tatiana stopped. She just stopped moving. Stopped thinking. Quite possibly her heart stopped beating as well—if only for the briefest moment. The idea of contacting the great Merlin himself had never occurred to her. How could it have never occurred to her? She looked to Kit for his reaction.

  “Can you do that?” he asked.

  “If you have a bit of water from Avalon…” Sir Arthur began.

  “I do. It’s very precious, as you can imagine.”

  “Hmmm, yes. Not easily replenished is it?” Sir Arthur said, thinking about this.

  “Only the Seventh has ever been able to do so, and even then I’m not certain how it was done.” She looked around at the few books in her library. It was nothing compared to her grandmother’s collection. So many books lost. So much vital information!

  “But do you have enough to contact Merlin?” Kit asked again.

  To be honest, Tatiana didn’t know how much water was left in the skin she had tucked away, but it had to be enough. She prayed it was because no matter what, she would use it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  LADY VALLENTYN MOVED quickly for a woman so heavy with child. Dagonet was surprised at the speed with which she returned with the chalice and her skin of water from Avalon.

  The chalice she held carefully with two hands, carrying it in with ceremony. A maid followed with the skin, which she delivered directly into the lady’s hands after the chalice was carefully set down on the table.

  It still glowed with magic, as it had eight hundred years ago when Dagonet had first seen it.

  A heaviness settled in his chest at the sight of it. He could still remember the Children coming out of the wood by the shore, holding the chalice triumphantly aloft. The fight with Nimuë had been a difficult one that Dagonet had tried to join in, but the woman had knocked him out with one of her balls of magic. He could almost still feel the shock and smell that terrifying burning scent just before he’d passed out.

  The trio was still trying to figure out how to work together early on in their time together. Thank goodness they had succeeded, or else… well, Dagonet didn’t want to think of what the alternative might have been. The point was that they had, and together they figured out how to rescue the cup from the tree that had protected it for two centuries.

  “Do you wish to hold it, Sir Arthur?” Lady Vallentyn asked, breaking off his memories.

  “What… wot? Oh! No,” he forced out a chuckle. “No. I’ve held it before, my lady. Not an experience I’d like to repeat.”

  Lord Vallentyn looked at him oddly. “Why not?”

  “Gives the fingers quite a tingle, doesn’t it?” Dagonet said with a smile.

  Lord Vallentyn laughed. “Yes, it does! My God, so much magic!”

  “Precisely!” Dagonet agreed before turning back to Lady Vallentyn who carefully unstopped her water skin.

  The three of them gathered around the chalice, and Lady Vallentyn poured just enough to cover the very bottom of the cup. She then closed her eyes and waved a slightly shaking hand over the top.

  Merlin’s smiling visage shimmered into being and a joy Dagonet hadn’t felt in centuries blossomed within him.

  “Ha! Good to see you, my friend!” Dagonet said, trying hard to hold back his elation.

  “Dagonet! Is that you? Why you look exactly as you did the last time I saw you.” Merlin’s smile covered his whole face.

  That brought Dagonet back to Earth with a solid thump. Of course he looked exactly the same; Merlin’s own magic assured him of that.

  And here, before Dagonet’s own eyes, was the only person who had the ability to make it stop. It was his one chance to ask Merlin to take away this “gift,” but could he do it?

  Dagonet’s heart seized up in his chest. Could he ask Merlin to take away the gift he had given—at Dagonet’s own request? A gift given in pure good will to thank him for his work with the Children of Avalon? Could Dagonet dare to throw this reward back into his friend’s face, used and unwanted?

  What sort of man would do such a thing?

  Not only that, it wasn’t the reason they were contacting the old wizard, Dagonet sternly reminded himself. They had done so to save Lord and Lady Vallentyn’s children—sick children in desperate need of a cure! Dagonet could not forget this.

  No. He was a tru
e knight. He would not take advantage of this opportunity to care for his own desires.

  Taking a deep breath and putting a smile on his face, Dagonet said, “But of course, my friend, but of course!” He forced out a laugh.

  “How is it that you are contacting me, Dagonet?” Merlin asked, shifting his gaze toward Lady Vallentyn.

  “This is Lady Tatiana Vallentyn, the current high priestess, don’t you know? And her husband, Lord Vallentyn.” He took a step aside so that his lordship could get in closer to see into the chalice.

  “It is a great honor, sir,” Lady Vallentyn breathed.

  “But we’ve met, Lady Vallentyn, when you were made the high priestess,” Merlin said, losing his smile.

  “Yes. Of course, sir. It was a great honor to meet you then, as well, sir.”

  “Your seventh child could not be twenty–one years old already…” the old wizard began.

  “Oh, no, sir!” Lady Vallentyn answered. “She is still within me.” She placed a hand on her bulging stomach.

  “Not born yet?” Merlin confirmed.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then what has brought you to call upon me, my lady?” Merlin asked.

  Lady Vallentyn looked at Dagonet, silently begging him to speak for her. He cleared his throat. “There’s a problem, my friend. A rather grave problem, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh?” Merlin turned back to him.

  “Two…”

  “Three,” Lord Vallentyn quickly corrected.

  “Ah, yes, sorry, forgot about the baby. Three of the Vallentyn’s children are deathly ill with consumption. The priestess has tried everything. I’ve tried to recall any magic I might know to help her to cure them, but so far nothing has worked.”

  “I’m not strong enough!” Lady Vallentyn said. She pursed her lips together, but the tears streaming down her cheeks betrayed her emotions.

  “Ah,” Merlin said, nodding his understanding. “The child within you will be the Seventh. The sixth generation is always the weakest. It's so difficult not being able to perform such powerful magic as you should.”