Children of Avalon Read online

  “Anything wrong, sister?” Morgan asked, appearing in the water before her.

  Nimuë pressed her lips together but kept her silence. The last thing she needed right now was her sister’s goading. She was almost tempted to pour the water right back into her water skin just to get rid of her.

  “Have you not found a way to capture those three yet? Or have they eluded you once again?”

  “I have them!” Nimuë snapped.

  “Ah.” Morgan’s eyes grew bigger in surprise. “Congratulations.” But then they narrowed once more as she peered up at her sister. “Then why do you seem...unhappy? I would have thought you would be dancing with joy with your new powers.”

  “I do not have their powers yet. I am still figuring out how to get them,” Nimuë admitted under her breath

  “Oh, yes, I can see that would be a small matter of concern,” Morgan said, not even trying to hide her smile.

  Nimuë scowled down at her. “I nearly have it, it is just...”

  “Just what?”

  “I need to touch their lips with my own,” she growled. It was that small catch that made this so much more difficult than it needed to be.

  “Really? Is that how you do it?”

  “Yes. Some very sick mind must have thought up that little twist.”

  Morgan laughed. “Oh, dear, yes. Somehow I do not think these three would be overly eager to kiss you. I know I would not.” She laughed again.

  Somehow Nimuë could not see the humor in this. In fact, it was not funny at all—only frustratingly maddening.

  “I almost had her. I had Scai in my grasp. Our palms were together, our eyes, but...” She stopped. She had been so close. So close and yet unable to complete that last step needed to attain her powers.

  “But you just could not lay your lips on her,” Morgan said, sympathetically—understanding just what she was feeling, as always.

  “No,” Nimuë admitted with a sigh. “She managed to squirm away from me at the last moment. But do not worry, I will get her. I have plenty more...”

  “Father! Father!” Someone pounded on the door to her room.

  In the time that it took Nimuë to walk to the door, she had resumed the form of Father du Lac. “What is the matter?” he asked as he swung open the door.

  A footman stood there, panting, in a hall filled with smoke. “The three people you were holding, they’re gone!” he said, as the smoke curled into the room.

  “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

  “Somehow the door to their chamber caught fire. When I and a few others came running with water, the room was empty.”

  “You idiot! Have you looked for them? Have you checked the grounds, the castle, the perimeter?”

  The man opened his mouth but didn’t say anything.

  “Why do you just stand there? I want them found!”

  The man saluted and then left to carry out his orders.

  When Nimuë closed the door once again, she could hear her sister chuckling.

  “I will thank you...” Nimuë started.

  “Oh no, I think this is very funny. You finally capture them, and within no time at all, they have tricked you and escaped. They are very clever indeed.” Morgan laughed.

  Nimuë did not find this so amusing. “I will get them again.”

  “You think they will fall for the same trick once more?”

  Nimuë paused. Of course not. So how would she manage to capture them? Perhaps she would not.

  “Next time I will not capture them,” she said, thinking out loud. “Next time...”

  “What?” Morgan asked, no longer laughing.

  “Next time, I will just kill them,” Nimuë said, thoughtfully. If she could not capture them, then there really was not much choice. It was either kill or be killed, and frankly, she did not relish the idea of being killed by three young people—barely more than babes—and becoming the laughing stock of the Vallen world for the rest of eternity. It was not how she wanted to be remembered.

  “They are barely more than children, Nimuë. One of them of your own blood,” her sister reminded her needlessly. “You cannot—”

  “It will not be a problem,” Nimuë snapped. But deep down inside of her, Morgan’s words were having their intended effect.

  Would she be able to kill the three? She had never really killed anyone before. She was not a murderer.

  But if she did not....

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  There was pounding once more on Nimuë’s door.

  “Sir, the three have gotten away,” a man called from the other side of the door before she even had a chance to open it.

  Nimuë cursed silently to herself. Opening the door, Father du Lac addressed the man standing outside. “What do you mean, they got away? They are on foot. You just have not looked properly.”

  “No, sir. A knight met them on the road, fought three of our men, and then rode off with the prisoners. They could be anywhere by now, sir.”

  “A knight? One of Lefevre’s men?”

  “No, sir. He was no one we knew.”

  Nimuë began to turn away, thinking. Who could this be? Who would have come to their rescue?

  Surely not...she nearly laughed out loud but caught herself just in time, remembering that she was not alone. She had seen old Dagonet traveling with Scai and the boy. It could not have been he who had bested three of Lord Lefevre’s knights.

  “You did not learn his name?”

  “No, sir. But he killed two of our knights before the third returned to the castle for reinforcements. When they set out again, it was too late—the captives were gone.” The man paused and then added, “I’ve sent scouts out looking for them, but, as I said, they could be anywhere.”

  Nimuë thought fast, the cold facts pushing the old knight from her mind. They had truly escaped!

  She turned away from the man for a moment to hide her fury, but it took two or three deep breaths before she could face him with any sort of control. “I want them found. They are witches of the worst sort. It is why I captured them. I want them found and killed, do you understand me?” she said, doing her best to keep her voice even.

  The man’s lips formed a grim line, but he nodded.

  “No, wait!” Nimuë changed her mind. It would be so much more fitting if they were caught and brought to her first. She could then decide just how to rid the world of these pesky children. Yes, she would need to think about this.

  “No, do not kill them.” She looked down at her hands, remembering her role. “No, we must grant them leniency. They are God’s children, after all. For now, just do your best to find them then report back to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Looking back at the man, she added, in a voice she filled with sorrow, “I will see to the knights who have fallen in my service. Have them brought into the chapel. I will spend the night praying for their souls.”

  “That is very good of you, Father,” the man said more quietly, clearly touched by Father du Lac’s generosity. He bowed low as Nimuë began to close the door.

  Before Morgan could even say a word or laugh in her face again for having lost the children, Nimuë looked down into the water and said, “You know I cannot let them get away like this, Morgan.”

  But her sister was not there.

  <><><>

  “Well, I will be the first to admit I would never have believed that Sir Dagonet could fight like that,” Dylan said, sitting back in his chair and taking a long drink of the ale the barmaid had just placed before him—not without a wink and a smile, I noted with a breath of annoyance.

  I reprimanded myself, though. There was no reason why that should annoy me—only it did. It really did.

  “Well, who would have ever believed an old man could move like that?” Bridget agreed.

  Dylan sat forward again. “But, no, you don’t understand. The man is a buffoon—or at least, he always plays the fool.”

  “He is not a buffoon!” I argued.

&n
bsp; Dylan paused for a moment to look at me oddly. Did he sense my annoyance? “Come now, Scai, you of all people know...” Dylan started.

  “I know that he is a very sweet, very witty gentleman,” I said, sticking to my defense of the kind old knight and trying to calm my unreasonable anger.

  “I’m not saying he isn’t, but, really, some of the things he says...” he broke off with a little laugh. “Never in my life would I have believed he was the kind of man capable of fighting the way he did today.

  “The courage he showed. The strength and agility. Everything. He is a true knight,” Dylan said, with unmistakable awe in his voice.

  Bridget caught my eye with a look that nearly made me burst out laughing—and if I hadn’t been so nervous and preoccupied, I probably would have.

  Sir Dagonet had assured us that we’d ridden far enough that Lord Lefevre’s men wouldn’t find us, but I just couldn’t help but worry. I was sure Lady Nimuë would be furious when she found out we had escaped. And with such a powerful Vallen after us...

  “Boys! This is all they ever talk about,” Bridget exclaimed, interrupting my worried thoughts. “My brothers rehash every fight they see, talking about it incessantly. Did you see the way he did this, and the way the other fellow parried?” She slumped back into her chair. “Yes, Dylan, I saw the whole fight as well as you. I saw every blow Sir Dagonet made and every blow he received.”

  “All right, I get the point,” Dylan said, cutting her off. “I just think it was pretty amazing.”

  I jumped as a group of men came into the taproom, talking and laughing loudly.

  “Scai, it’s all right,” Dylan said quietly, leaning forward and putting his hand on top of mine, which were clenched together on the scarred table. “We’re perfectly safe here.” Warmth rushed through me from my hand where he touched me. The feeling was more relaxing than a gentle summer breeze.

  I looked into his reassuring eyes and began to breathe again. Forcing a smile to my lips, I said, “Yes. I know. I’m sorry, I just can’t help it.”

  Bridget turned and looked toward the men as well. “They are loud, that’s all. I don’t think they’ll bother us.”

  I forced my mind back to Sir Dagonet. “Well, it was quite a fight. I’ve never heard of anyone fighting two knights at once.”

  “Most people couldn’t,” Dylan said, clearly happy to get back to the topic. “I tell you, even my foster-brother, Sir Patric, couldn’t have done what Sir Dagonet did today.”

  “Well, but isn’t Sir Dagonet a great deal more experienced than your foster-brother?” I asked.

  “Yes, naturally, but usually people get slower with age, not faster.”

  That idea swirled around in my mind. It was so much more pleasant to think about Sir Dagonet than Nimuë or Lord Lefevre’s men. I leaned forward and said quietly so that only Dylan and Bridget could hear me, “Do you think it was his magic?”

  That made Dylan stop and think for a moment. “I don’t know. I didn’t think Sir Dagonet...”

  “What, wot? Did I hear my name?” the knight said, slipping into the chair next to Dylan.

  I sat back again. “We were just wondering about dinner, that’s all, sir,” I answered, not wanting him to know that we’d been talking about him.

  “Yes! I am famished. I could eat a whole side of beef by myself,” Bridget said, brightly.

  Dylan raised his hand and caught the attention of the barmaid before Bridget could say anything more.

  “Sorry I took so long getting cleaned up, wot?” Sir Dagonet said, giving Bridget a big smile. “I appreciate you waiting for me, don’t you know. We’ll be sure to get you enough to eat.”

  Bridget gave him a smile and an enthusiastic nod. “Oh yes, thank you. My poor sister–in–law is probably having to do the same for all of my brothers all by herself now, poor thing. And I can tell you that when they are hungry, there is just no managing them. They’re like animals, grabbing for what they want across the table, across each other...”

  We all laughed at the image Bridget painted, while I tried to ignore the stab of jealousy and sadness that poked into my side. Bridget had grown up with five loving brothers—a family—while I had been an outcast. No. That was not true, I reminded myself. I’d had Father Llewellyn and Aron. They were both important and very wonderful, even though they weren’t really my family.

  “You must be missing them a great deal, Bridget,” Sir Dagonet said.

  “Oh, well...” Bridget thought about that for a moment then gave a shrug. “But this is so much more exciting. I’ve never been away from home before.”

  “I still can hardly believe Lord Lefevre had you captured in that way,” Sir Dagonet said, shaking his head.

  “It wasn’t Lord Lefevre, sir,” Dylan said. “It was a Vallen.”

  “Who claimed to be Lady Nimuë,” I added.

  “Nimuë!” Sir Dagonet exclaimed, looking down at the table for a moment, his bushy white eyebrows drawn low, but when he looked up again his eyes sparkled with mischief and he gave me a wink. “A little old, was she?”

  “Actually, sir, she didn’t look old at all. But she did claim to be the same Lady Nimuë who entombed Merlin in the tree,” I answered.

  Sir Dagonet nodded. “Well, if it was Lady Nimuë, or even if it wasn’t, she doesn’t seem to have been a very pleasant person, wot?”

  Dylan laughed. “Not at all.”

  “Best to head off somewhere where she’s not so likely to find you, wot, wot?” Sir Dagonet added with a smile.

  My stomach dropped. “Yes, but where?”

  Much to my annoyance, it was just as these words left my mouth that our dinner was served. All conversation stopped as we began to eat. Although I had been as hungry as Bridget a few minutes ago, my stomach now rebelled at the thought of food.

  “Just how powerful a Vallen is Lady Nimuë, sir?” I asked.

  Sir Dagonet sat chewing his food. “Oh, more powerful than you could imagine,” he said, his eyes smiling while his mouth could not.

  That wasn’t entirely reassuring.

  “But don’t worry, I happen to know three very powerful Vallen, don’t you know?”

  I widened my eyes at this, as hope rose within me. “Who? Where can we meet them? When...”

  Bridget laughed. “I think he means us.”

  “Oh.” I sat back as the three of them laughed. Grudgingly, I smiled as well, but as I thought about this, it became a true smile. My brothers had said something along the same lines—that being able to change into a bird was something only very powerful Vallen could do. And even Sir Dagonet had been impressed with my ability to break Dylan’s suggestion. So, yes, maybe I was a powerful Vallen. And possibly, even as powerful as Bridget and Dylan. We’d escaped from Nimuë once, hopefully we’d be able to take her on again if need be.

  I was able to eat with a lighter heart after that.

  Our companionable silence was interrupted, however, by a burst of laughter from the noisy group of men at the table nearby. One man slammed his tankard of ale down onto the table, he was laughing so hard. “...and that look of absolute terror that old witch gave Tom just before she went under?” the man was saying.

  “She should have been scared. She knew where she was going—straight to the fires of hell,” another said chuckling.

  I spun back around fast, my eyes meeting Sir Dagonet’s and then Dylan’s. The merry twinkle was gone from the knight’s eyes, and Dylan looked as if he was going to be sick.

  “We need to leave,” Bridget said very quietly.

  “You will stay and finish your dinner.” Sir Dagonet said, sounding more fatherly than I had ever heard him. “Then we’ll all retire and get an early start tomorrow.”

  “An early start to where?” Bridget asked.

  Sir Dagonet looked around, as if the answer were somewhere on the table. He then shrugged and said with a wry smile on his face, “I would suggest someplace far away from Lady Nimuë.”

  “Why not back to Gloucester
?” Bridget suggested. “With my brothers there—”

  “That is just where she would look for us first,” Dylan said.

  “Sorry, Bridget, but your brothers would be no match for Lady Nimuë—if that’s who it really was, wot?” Sir Dagonet said at the same time.

  “With all of us there and them...”

  “Bridget, you saw how powerful she was with that glamour,” Dylan pointed out.

  “I would love to return to Gloucester and spend more time with my newfound family,” I put in, “but what if Dylan is right? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if Lady Nimuë followed us there. And if anyone should get hurt because of us...”

  Worry crept into Bridget’s eyes at my words. Silently, she nodded her head. “Well then, where?”

  “I’ve heard the king has sent out a decree calling for all witches to be found and burned at the stake,” Sir Dagonet said, with a side glance at the men at the next table.

  “We should go to Wales,” I offered. “They don’t follow the English king’s edicts so readily there.”

  “No.” Dylan put down his ale with a thunk.

  “Oh, and who do you think you are to make that decision?” Bridget asked, suddenly very testy.

  “I have as much right to say where we go, if not more.”

  “More? What, just because you are a man?”

  “That’s right, because I am a man and I’m one of the oldest amongst us.” His eyes bored into Bridget’s, but she didn’t back down a touch.

  “I knew it!” She turned toward me. “I knew we should never have gone to meet him. He won’t work with us, he...”

  “Bridget, just calm down,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. I turned back to Dylan. “Is there some reason why you don’t want to go to Wales, Dylan?” I asked, hoping he would have a good answer and not just be trying to manage things as Bridget thought.

  “Yes.” He gave me the smallest hint of a smile. “I have just come from there and I know that the ch—” He stopped himself with a quick glance at the men at the next table. He turned back to me saying, “I know that we should stay in England.”