Children of Avalon Page 16

  I was suddenly cold and empty. “I...I don’t know. I had thought that you were a priest, which is why I allowed you to bring us here.”

  “Ah, yes, naturally. But you do not think that anymore?”

  “No.”

  “Good. You are learning.”

  “But...”

  “And now I have more I want to teach you, Scai,” he said, his voice sounding so kind and sincere once again. For a moment, I almost forgot that this was a Vallen to be feared, he played his role so very well.

  “Why her?” Bridget asked, coming forward. “Why not me?”

  “Or me?” Dylan put in.

  Father du Lac looked at the two of them and smiled. “Oh, have no fear, my children. You will have your turns as well. I would not be so cruel as to single out only one of you. It is just that I can only teach one person at a time. Scai is the lucky one. She gets to go first.” He then turned back to me and held out his hand. “Come, my dear. You know, I am so very impressed with how fast you learn that I am sure this will not take long at all.”

  I took a step forward, but Dylan cut in front of me. “No. You can’t take her. I shall go first.”

  Father du Lac just shook his head. Chuckling a little, he said, “Such bravery, such chivalry. But alas, no. I have chosen Scai, and so it shall be her. Come along now, my dear.”

  I put my hand on Dylan’s arm. “It’s all right, Dylan.” I had gotten us into this mess, perhaps on the other side of that door there was some way for me to get us out of it.

  Dylan looked down at me with serious concern in his eyes, despite the trouble I had gotten us into. As he put his hand on top of mine, there was no need for me to be able to read his thoughts or have his emotion–reading abilities. I could see what he felt in his eyes, and I felt it, too. It warmed the cold that had come over me the moment Father du Lac had come into the room.

  And it allowed me to push aside my fears and follow Father du Lac out the door.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  I turned around after entering the sitting room into which I had been shown but started to choke on my own breath.

  Father du Lac was changing!

  He lost height, his body melting into that of a woman. Never in my life had I seen anything so terrifying. I stood there speechless, shaking. I wanted to scream, to make some sort of noise, at the very least to run, or even fly, away.

  But the woman who now stood before me held me transfixed with just her eyes.

  “Poor dear little Scai. What has you trembling so?” she asked in the same sweet tone of voice that Father du Lac had used. From him it had seemed priestly, but coming from her it was terrifying. “Oh, now, it is all right. Have you never seen a Vallen change shape before?”

  I managed to give a little shake of my head.

  “No, I do not suppose you have. You are still so new to all of this.”

  My chin dipped as I tried to nod.

  “Yes, I know. But you have learned so very much in such a short amount of time,” the woman went on. “I truly was very impressed. You went from almost nothing to being a very powerful Vallen in only a matter of weeks. Well done, my dear girl, well done.”

  “How do you know that? Who are you?” I managed to whisper through my fear.

  The woman’s black eyebrows went up, wrinkling her flawless forehead. “You do not recognize me, even in my true form? No, of course not. How silly of me.” The woman gave a little laugh. “I forgot you have been raised in such a cloistered way.” The woman took a few steps toward me. I wanted to retreat, but it felt as if my feet were stuck fast to the floor.

  “I am Lady Nimuë,” the woman said in her kind voice. “Have you heard of me?”

  My mind began to race. I’d heard this name only the day before. My brothers... “My brothers were saying something about someone named Nimuë. But she lived a very long time ago—in the time of Merlin.”

  “Yes, that is correct. Very good. Merlin and I were very close once.” The woman nodded and smiled.

  “But you can’t be...I mean...That Nimuë must have died hundreds of years ago.”

  The woman smiled. “There is no other Nimuë, I assure you.”

  “No? But surely...”

  “There is only one Nimuë and I am she. I am the one who tricked Merlin into the tree. I am the one with whom he shared his powers and his secrets. And now you are going to share yours with me.” The woman took another step closer.

  Her fingers bit into my arms as she grasped onto me.

  I tried to move, but I couldn’t even pull my eyes away from hers. They were an intense green, holding on to mine with a force that was beyond anything I had ever felt before. My heart began to thunder in my chest as terror flooded my body.

  “Give them to me,” Nimuë whispered. “Give me your powers.”

  I just barely managed to shake my head. “No.”

  Nimuë’s eyes darted around, searching my face and releasing the lock she’d had. “How do I get them?” she whispered to herself.

  I had to do something. I had to get away. This woman was crazy. She was delusional, thinking herself the great Nimuë. And now she wanted to steal my powers!

  I tried to back away, but the woman’s grip only tightened.

  “No, let me go,” I cried, trying to break free.

  “Your powers. They will be mine,” the woman growled. “What did Merlin do? How did he give me his?” The woman gave me a shake as if I could answer her. “It has been too long! Why can I not remember?”

  This woman was truly mad. I began to struggle in earnest, but still she held on to me with a grip like steel.

  “What did he do? We touched hands,” she said, letting go of my arms and grabbing my hands in each of her own.

  I could feel the searing heat of Nimuë’s powers as our palms touched.

  “Yes! I feel it. I feel your power.” The woman stared at our hands for a moment and then shifted her eyes up to mine. Her growing excitement drove me to struggle even harder. If this woman was pleased, I had to get away—now.

  I tried again to pull away, but Nimuë held on to me too tightly.

  “Give me your powers. Push them into me.”

  “No!”

  “There is something more. Something is missing.” Her eyes scanned mine once again, and I realized that Nimuë hadn’t spoken out loud. Her words echoed in my mind.

  I wished I had learned how Dylan had put that lock, that suggestion, into my mind. A gust of hope filled me—maybe I could do the same to Nimuë. Staring into Nimuë’s eyes, I projected into her mind “You do not want my powers. You do not want them. Let me and my friends go free.”

  A smile crept onto her face. “Very clever, my dear girl, but you cannot think to influence me with your magic. I am much too strong for that.”

  And just as quickly my hope dropped to almost nothing. But, no, I would not give up.

  My hands were beginning to hurt, Lady Nimuë’s grip was so tight. Her eyes narrowed in thought. “He kissed me,” she said, remembering. “Yes, that is what he did, he kissed me.”

  “No!” I twisted and turned away frantically even as the woman came closer, trying to touch her lips to my own. She was coming disgustingly close. I could feel the warmth of her breath.

  But then my eyes caught on a gleaming silver bowl sitting on the table just behind Lady Nimuë. In the blink of an eye, I sent the bowl crashing over the woman’s head, showering us both with the water that had been in it.

  “No!” Nimuë screamed, letting go of me. “No! Not my precious water!”

  I didn’t wait to hear more. I took two steps toward the window and was on my way out with one strong flap of my wings.

  A strong gust of wind sent me tumbling into the wall. I was on the floor trying to shake the pain from my head when huge hands came down and grabbed me, pinning my wings to my sides. All I could do was squawk my indignation.

  Nimuë held me too tightly as I was carried to the room where Bridget and Dylan were still being h
eld. I could barely breathe by the time I was thrown back in with them.

  I landed on my bottom on the cold stone floor. Bridget and Dylan were at my side within a moment.

  “What happened?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “Who was that who brought you back here?

  They threw questions at me faster than I could even think to answer one. I was trembling inside and out, too shaken up to do anything more than bury my head down onto my knees and try very, very hard not to cry.

  Dylan pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me while Bridget brushed back my hair and murmured quiet words of comfort. Slowly Dylan’s calm eased through my tension, relaxing my muscles.

  “Are you hurt? Scai?” Bridget asked gently.

  I took stock of myself. Aside from feeling a little unnerved at just how good it felt to be held by Dylan, I was all right. But I couldn’t let him distract me. Not now. Not when that... that woman was nearby and we were imprisoned here.

  I took a deep breath. It was filled with Dylan’s fresh water scent. With borrowed strength from him, I was able to pull away to answer my sister. “I got banged against the wall when I was trying to fly out the window, but other than that she just... just scared me.”

  “Who is she?” Dylan asked.

  “Lady Nimuë. She said that she was Lady Nimuë.”

  Bridget burst to her feet. “But she couldn’t be. I mean, she’d be...”

  “Dead. Yes, I mentioned that to her, but she said that she was the one who entrapped Merlin. He gave her some of his powers and now she wanted mine. She couldn’t remember how to take them, though. At least, not at first.”

  “She wanted your powers?” Dylan said incredulously.

  “How does someone take your powers?” Bridget asked, lowering herself down onto the floor next to me again.

  “She... She tried to kiss me,” I said, shuddering as I remembered how close Nimuë had come to doing just that.

  “No! That’s...” Bridget began, but then paused when she couldn’t seem to find the right word, but her face looked like she had just eaten something sour.

  “I know.” And I did. I knew just what Bridget meant to say and was shocked when I had the wherewithal to laugh. “I smashed a silver bowl over her head.”

  “Good for you!” Dylan said, a big smile spreading across his face.

  “And then I turned into a bird and tried to fly out the window, but she knocked me into the wall with a gust of wind. She’s very strong.” But so was I, I told myself firmly.

  Dylan’s hand caressing my back reminded me as to where I was sitting. I was sure my face must have turned pink with my sudden awareness of him. I tried to give him a little smile and hope that Bridget didn’t see it or my blush, as I moved myself out of his lap.

  “Well, no surprise there, if she really is Lady Nimuë,” Bridget said from the other side of the room where she had retreated in her pacing.

  “We’ve got to get out of here. Whether she is truly Lady Nimuë or not,” Dylan said, standing up and putting his back to me. I couldn’t tell if he was feeling the same awkwardness I had or was just focused on getting free of this room.

  “She might come back to take your powers. Or Bridget’s. I managed to escape, but I was lucky.”

  “How can we get out of here? There’s only way out and it’s locked,” Bridget said, continuing to pace the room.

  I looked at the very solid wood door. Then something occurred to me. “Bridget,” I said, turning toward her, “you started that fire at the inn, and outside of the gate you threw something that set one of the wolves on fire. How did you do that?”

  Bridget looked a little confused, but gave a shrug. “I just threw a sphere of magic at the wolf. I’m afraid it was my words which started the fire at the inn.”

  I didn’t quite understand, but I didn’t have to time just now to ask what she meant. “Well, do you think you could set fire to that door?”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Scai. She nearly burned down the entire inn!” Dylan protested with a laugh.

  “Yes, but the inn was made of wood. This castle is made of stone. And also, I’m here. Bridget can burn the door, but before the fire can spread, I’ll put it out with a gust of wind, and then you, Dylan, can break down the weakened door,” I said, explaining my plan to them.

  “Brilliant!” Bridget exclaimed. Then she threw a well–aimed fireball at the door.

  <><><>

  Bridget, Dylan, and I slipped through a smaller door next to the main gate, the guard on duty happily waving to us as we ran down the road leading from the castle. Dylan’s suggestions had done the trick, and amazingly we hadn’t had too much trouble escaping. There were too many people running toward the still–burning fire to notice three people running away from it—Dylan had suggested leaving the door burning after we had broken through it, just as a distraction.

  I wasn’t entirely happy with leaving such destruction or coercing people in this way. But I saw Dylan’s point. Sometimes it was just necessary.

  I took a deep, welcome breath of freedom—and then almost lost it in a scream. A knight on horseback was racing toward us, his helm lowered over his face and his sword raised, ready to attack. A second horse was following, but it had no rider.

  The three of us stopped running, coming to a slow halt in the middle of the road. Still, the two horses thundered toward us, coming at an incredible speed.

  “That’s my horse!” Dylan exclaimed. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or excited.

  But if that was Dylan’s horse...Yes! I knew that knight. This was exactly the way I had seen Sir Dagonet for the very first time—riding toward me at a great speed with his sword raised high in the air, ready to strike me down.

  “Sir Dagonet!” I yelled, praying he wouldn’t strike us down by mistake. And just like last time, I found myself unable to move out of the way as his horse’s thundering hooves got closer and closer.

  Someone pulled me to the side just in time. Sir Dagonet rode past, except this time it wasn’t an oak tree into which he embedded his sword, it was a man. In one clean swipe of his blade, he took the head off of one of three knights who were approaching us from behind.

  In the shock of Sir Dagonet’s advance, we hadn’t even noticed the knights who had come after us from the castle.

  I hid my face as the knight’s head flew off into the field to our right. Bridget’s arms came around me. I focused my eyes on her, wanting to look anywhere but at the fight taking place much too close. Bridget’s face was pale and serious as she watched the combat.

  “Behind you, sir!” Dylan shouted.

  I spun around to look and was immediately sorry. A second knight was coming around to attack Sir Dagonet from behind as he fought the one in front of him.

  Sir Dagonet turned around, lunging with a speed and agility that I hadn’t known the old man possessed.

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners, young man?” the older knight asked, as he swung his sword at his new aggressor. “Not the thing to attack someone from behind, wot?”

  “Stand down, sir!” the knight in front of him cried out as he joined back into the fray, attacking Sir Dagonet even as he was fighting the second warrior.

  “Stand down? Stand down, you say?” Sir Dagonet exclaimed, swinging his sword back and forth from one knight to the other. “Now how could I possibly do that when astride my horse? I am sitting. I cannot stand down, don’t you know?”

  I slapped my hand to my mouth. Bridget looked as if she was about to burst out laughing.

  And poor Sir Dagonet was somehow attempting to fight two knights at once. I could hardly bear to watch, and yet, somehow, I couldn’t turn away. Sir Dagonet thrust his sword at one man and immediately followed it up with a strike at the other.

  But then I truly did have problems not bursting into laughter when I noticed Dylan standing by the side, hopping from one foot to the othe
r, watching the fight intently. He clearly wanted to get into it, but there was nothing he could do. He was unarmed.

  “Give up,” the first knight called out again. “We have you outnumbered.”

  “Outnumbered?” Sir Dagonet stopped for the briefest of moments and looked between the two knights. “Ha! So you do.”

  As Sir Dagonet lowered his sword, the first knight tried to take advantage and thrust out at Sir Dagonet with his sword. But before he knew it, Sir Dagonet had dodged his attack and thrust his sword forward, straight through a gap in the side of his armor. The man fell to the ground.

  “There, that’s better. Now the odds are even, wot, wot?”

  “Ha! Well done, sir!” Dylan exclaimed.

  The remaining knight took a moment to look at his fallen comrade before turning his horse around and speeding back to the castle.

  “Well! That’s rather unsporting of him,” Sir Dagonet said, sounding a little annoyed.

  He sheathed his sword. Reaching his hand down toward Bridget, he said in his usual good–natured voice, “We’d better be off before he returns with reinforcements.”

  Dylan, his face lit with excitement and triumph, was up on his horse in a flash, helping me up behind him. I barely had time for a thought before we were off, galloping down the road. The most I could do was hold on to Dylan for dear life, because I was certain that within moments I was going to be bounced right off his horse.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Nimuë muttered to herself as she refilled her silver bowl with the last of her precious water from Avalon. How could she let that girl get the better of her? She was no match for the great Nimuë. Did she not know that?

  It had taken Nimuë a little bit of time to figure out how to get the children’s powers, but now she knew. They had to connect in three places—their hands, their eyes and their lips. Yes, that was it.

  She was not entirely certain, but she had a niggling doubt that she might have to have the person’s consent as well—just as Merlin had yielded his own powers freely. Well, there would just have to be a way of getting that, too. Perhaps a suggestion like the foolish girl had tried to put into her mind?