Bridging the Storm Read online

  Vallentyn Abbey, June 5, 1794

  ARE YOU CERTAIN there are no other options?" Tatiana asked the doctor, eyeing the jar in his hand. Her stomach churned just thinking of him attaching those leeches onto her children.

  "None, my lady. Their illness is too severe and progressing too rapidly. I know of no other cure for consumption. Extracting the bad humors within them is the only way."

  "We'll think on it," her husband, Kit, said, putting his hand on Tatiana’s shoulder, both comforting and giving her strength in the one small gesture.

  His expression told her quite clearly that it would be over his dead body before he allowed the doctor to proceed with this "treatment".

  "This will only work on the boys, mind you," the doctor reminded them. "Luckily, the baby isn't as badly off as her older brothers." He looked from Tatiana back to Kit. "They don't have much time left, in my opinion. You need to make your decision quickly."

  Kit said nothing, just gave a curt nod of his head.

  The doctor sighed, as he put the horrid specimens back into his bag.

  "There is water by the door for you to wash your hands," Tatiana said, gesturing toward the basin they always kept there now. He simply shrugged her off and continued to pack away his medical equipment.

  No, she would most definitely not allow this man to come near her children again. Not ever. And he was supposed to be the best there was, called all the way from London.

  They accompanied the doctor to the front door where he turned in an effort to entreat them once again. Before he could get a word out, however, Kit interrupted him. “Thank you, doctor. We’ll send for you if we decide in favor of your... treatment. ” Kit closed the door firmly behind the man.

  Tatiana couldn’t stop the tears that slowly made their way down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop wringing her hands. She couldn’t stop the storm that raged outside the door that both she and Kit knew was caused by her emotions.

  A flash of lightening was quickly followed by a boom of thunder.

  “Poor man will have a nasty ride home,” Kit said, folding Tatiana into his arms. “You don’t think you could…”

  “Kit, our boys,” she cried, finally letting loose the sobs that had been tearing at her chest and making her stomach ache. “Our sweet, little boys! Why? Why did this happen? And little Caroline. She’s so small. So fragile.” The tears were followed by sobs so deep that she could barely breathe.

  Rain pelted down in sheets and thunder once again shook the old stones of Vallentyn Abbey.

  “Shhhhhh,” her husband said, running his hands up and down her back. “Shhhh. Tatiana, it’s going to be all right. They’ll get better.”

  “How?” she hiccoughed.

  “We’ll find a way. Or you’ll try again with your magic. Or make a potion. I don’t know, but we can’t…”

  “They can’t die!” she agreed. “They can’t die.”

  She could do nothing but cry for her children. If they didn’t find some way to stop this illness, her boys would surely die. Little Caroline, not nearly as sick, stood a chance at recovering. But not the boys.

  Boys were always weaker than girls when they were young and never as strong magically. They did horrible things like play in the mud, get dirty, catch frogs… and die.

  When exhaustion finally won out, she gave a sniff and said what was in the forefront of her mind. “Thank God this one will be a girl.” She reached between her body and Kit’s to rub her distended belly, swollen with child.

  Kit took her hand and raised it to her lips. “Our little Morgan will be strong,” he agreed.

  “She’ll be physically strong and magically stronger than anyone.”

  “Even stronger than you?” he asked, smiling down at her.

  She gave a watery, little laugh. “Yes, even stronger than me. I can feel it, Kit. I can feel how strong she’s going to be.”

  He brushed his thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears. “It’s a shame she’s not already born, then. She could have cured her brothers.”

  Tatiana gave another small laugh swallowing back the sobs that rose once again. She could only nod her head, her throat too clogged to say anything.

  “There’s nothing else we can try, Tatiana? No one you know who might be strong enough to cure them? No potion that you know of?” he asked.

  She sighed, shaking her head. Who was even stronger than she? No one except Merlin.

  The thought of the old wizard tickled something in her memory.

  Old. There was someone old…

  She jumped back from Kit. “Dagonet!” she nearly shouted.

  “Who?”

  “Sir Dagonet! I met him when I stopped at Stonehenge last winter.” She swiped the rest of the tears from her face as the last of the thunder rolled away and the rain began to let up. “It was so long ago, I'd almost forgotten. He can help us!”

  “Who is this?” Kit asked.

  “Do you remember the story of the Children of Avalon? Bridget, Dylan and Scai who…”

  “They fought against Lady Nimuë when she wanted to take over both the Vallen and the ordinary people,” Kit finished. “Avalon was closed off from the world and Bridget was made the first high priestess. Yes, of course, every Vallen child is told that story.”

  “Yes, well, the Children weren’t alone, if you remember. They had Sir Dagonet to guide them,” she said, getting more and more excited. She couldn’t believe that she had forgotten him until now.

  Kit nodded his head. “Yes, that’s right. I remember. But, my love, he’s long dead. That was a thousand years ago!”

  “Not quite eight hundred,” she said, waving off his exaggeration. “But he’s not dead. At the end of the story, when they finally defeated Nimuë, Merlin came to Dagonet and granted him a boon. Don’t you remember? He could become young whenever he wanted. He needed only to sip a special potion at Stonehenge on the night of the winter solstice.”

  Kit slowly nodded his head, clearly trying hard to remember the old tale. “And you think you can find a recipe for this potion? Will it save the children?”

  “No, Kit. He’s still alive! Sir Dagonet is still alive,” Tatiana whispered, hardly able to keep the excitement from her voice.

  “But it was just a myth, Tatiana…” He paused at her giggle. “It was real? The man is still alive after all this time?” She laughed harder at the shock in her husband’s voice.

  “Yes, and I met him.”

  Kit opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, speechless.

  “I’ll write to him. Ask him to come. He must know some magic, or have the magic to cure the children,” she said, heading straight to the library.

  Kit followed in her wake. “You know where he lives?”

  “Some place in Wales. He has an estate.” She stopped to think of the name of the town. Kit nearly bumped into her, grabbing her shoulders just in time to keep from knocking her over. She turned toward him. “It was something castle. Do we have a map of Wales? If I see it, I’m sure I’ll remember the name.”

  She tried to move forward again, but Kit still held on to her shoulders. “Wait, my love. Just stop and think about this for a moment.”

  He paused, and she took a deep breath, waiting for him to spell out his thoughts.

  “Even if this fellow who you met really was Sir Dagonet, and I’m not saying that I believe it, what could he possibly do? He was a knight. Was he even a strong Vallen at that time, eight hundred years ago?”

  “Christopher Vallentyn, you are not going to tell me that you believe Merlin would get anyone other than a very strong Vallen to guide the Children of Avalon!”

  He shrugged, dropping his hands from her shoulders. “I don’t know, my love. I’m just trying to think this through without being blinded by emotion and desperation.” He looked at her meaningfully.

  She knew he was right. He was always right when it came to these sorts of things.

  “Fine. I don’t know if Sir Dagonet was a
powerful Vallen or not. All I know is that I met him at Stonehenge. He took a drink from a water skin and changed from an old man into a young man.”

  “And told you that he was this Sir Dagonet from old.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what makes you believe that he would have the ability to cure our children?”

  Tatiana didn’t think her husband could be any more annoying than he was right now. She nearly growled in frustration. “I don’t, but we are out of options. Do I need to remind you of this? I don’t know what else to do, who else to call. If Sir Dagonet doesn’t have the ability, maybe he knows of someone or of some other magic that could possibly cure them. I don’t know, Kit, but I can’t just stand here and watch my children die!” Tears threatened once again, but she was not going to give in to them. Not again.

  Her husband just looked at her for a moment, clearly thinking this through. Finally, he gave a nod, strode around her and headed for the library once again. “Well, let's see if we can find where he might live. You don’t remember the name of the place? Wales covers a rather large area.” He pulled out the oversized atlas and set it down on the large table near the window.

  Tatiana could only smile and remind herself that she truly did love her husband, no matter how much he annoyed or frustrated her. She joined him at the table. “He said it was near where he met Scai.”

  Kit stopped and looked up at her, awe making his mouth fall open. “Scai? Are you serious? He said that?”

  Tatiana could only laugh. Bright summer sunlight began to stream in through the window, illuminating the book Kit had pulled out. “Let's find Gloucester and then search west from there. According to the story, they walked from some place in Wales to Gloucester, so it had to be in that vicinity.”

  Kit nodded and opened up the maps to the right page.

  Tatiana leaned over the book next to him, placing her finger on the dot that represented the city of Gloucester, then running it toward the west. “Ross–on–Wye… Abergavenny… Sennybridge…”

  “Look for smaller towns, perhaps?” Kit suggested.

  “Yes. He’s not titled, so he wouldn’t own anything very large.” She peered closer at the map to read to smaller print. “There! Trecastle. That’s it!”

  “Are you certain?” he asked, standing up.

  “Yes. Absolutely. We’ll write to him at Trecastle and ask him to come. It shouldn’t take him more than a day or two to get here if he travels quickly.”

  “If he can leave immediately,” he reminded her.

  She waved her hand dismissively. “If his high priestess asks him to come, he’ll come.”

  KATE STIFLED A yawn. She could not fall asleep. She would not.

  The children slept fitfully, but slept nonetheless. Both Jamie and little Ewan had been running fevers and coughing blood for the past week or more. Both were pale, their skin sallow and gray, with deep, dark circles under their eyes. Jamie’s dark eyes were so like his mother’s, but it was Ewan’s eyes that touched Kate just a little more deeply—pale blue just like his father’s; just like her own.

  Kate saw those eyes every time she looked in the mirror, but hers were bright with life, not dull with illness as those of her little cousin. Now, though, she was beginning to get similar circles from so many nights sitting, keeping watch over the boys. She hated to admit it, but it scared her that she would become sick as well.

  It had been weeks since they’d both been diagnosed with consumption. Even the doctor had given up all hope.

  “Children die. Boys, especially,” he’d said just the other day, without a hint of remorse or sorrow in his voice. Maybe he’d seen this too often to feel anything. Maybe he’d shut himself off from all of his emotions. Maybe it was just his way of coping with so much death and illness.

  But it wasn’t Kate’s. While she couldn’t bear to see her little cousins so ill, she couldn’t just shut herself off from feeling anything. Unfortunately, she felt more anger than sadness. Sadness meant giving up to her mind. Sadness meant accepting the fact that nothing could be done to save them. Kate refused to believe this.

  There had to be something she could do.

  She had always felt this way. Even when her own mother was dying after giving birth to a stillborn baby when Kate was just five years old. She’d felt, even then, that there had to be something she could do. They hadn’t allowed her into the room, though. They’d said that she was too young. She’d felt so helpless—and hoped never to feel that way again.

  Then her father had told her he would be marrying that horrid woman. Kate not only felt there had to be something she could do to stop it, she was determined to do it. She’d tried everything from whipping up windstorms through the house to staging a hunger strike. But all she had managed to do was get expelled from her own home.

  She’d been sent to her uncle with an apology from her father for handing over this terror of a child. But his new wife, her father had explained, just would not, could not, live with her. That was the last time Kate had seen her father. He’d sent money and Christmas presents every year since. But there had never been a letter. Not a visit. Nothing.

  She hadn’t been a terror then, just determined to do something, as she was now.

  Kate had paid dearly for her behavior—oh, not that Uncle Kit was cruel in any way. No, in fact, he was so much kinder than she ever deserved. It was Aunt Vallentyn who was distant, insisting Kate use the more formal form of her title even though Kate’s own uncle didn’t.

  Aunt Vallentyn treated Kate like someone who should work for her place in their home. As soon as Kate had been old enough, she’d started looking after her young cousins, teaching them to use their magical power. It was alright, she supposed. She had a roof over her head and didn’t have to deal with her father’s wife whom she’d heard was quite the harridan.

  Kate's task began when her oldest cousin was two years old, and Kate was ten. She’d tutored him, and then his younger siblings as they had become old enough learn about their magic. She'd taught them how to control it and use it for good, as was the Vallen way.

  And now, two of her sweetest little charges might follow her mother into the grave much too young.

  Chapter Three

  KATE COULDN’T HELP but wonder if she had done anything to cause this. She didn’t think so, and even her uncle had said that it hadn’t been her fault. But still, she couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. She couldn’t just watch them die.

  She wiped the sweat off Jamie’s face first before walking across the room to check Ewan, tucking their covers securely around them. The air in the room was stifling hot and stagnant from the boys’ protracted illness.

  Kate took a quick look around. The fact that the room was neat with all of the toys put away, broke her heart—shouting out to her just how sick her little cousins were.

  She located the book of herbal remedies she’d taken from her aunt’s library. With no one to use it as a prop in a mock battle or the castle of some evil villain, it lay open on the window seat right where she’d left it. She would take one quick breath of fresh air before returning to her study, her search for something, anything that might help in curing the boys.

  Cracking the window open just a touch, she breathed in the hot summer air. It was nearly as stifling as the air inside the room, but at least it held the sweet scent from the gardens. If she closed her eyes and tried hard enough, she could even make out the sound of the river as it ran through the estate, gurgling on its way. For someone associated with Air, Kate loved that river. It had always been a refuge for her.

  Kate quickly closed and locked the window when the curtain next to her shifted. She turned to confront her aunt who had paused just inside the door. The frown on her face had Kate stammering. “I was just making sure the window was shut tight. I thought I felt a draft.”

  Aunt Vallentyn’s scowl deepened. “There are always drafts coming from those windows. Be sure to close the curtains."

  “Yes, ma’am,.”
She shut out the night, then followed her aunt to the bed in which little Jamie lay.

  “How is he?” she asked.

  “No change, I’m afraid,” Kate answered, her throat raw from exhaustion and worry.

  “It will be all right, now,” Aunt Vallentyn informed her as she ran a hand over her son’s burning forehead.

  Kate turned to her aunt. “Have you learned something? Did the doctor...”

  Her aunt straightened, narrowing her eyes at Kate. "Do not speak to me of that imbecile. No. The doctor had nothing to do with this."

  "Then...?"

  "I have seen to it myself." The look of superiority on her aunt's face kept Kate from asking any further questions.

  She had no idea what her aunt had done, but if she felt the children would soon get better, then Kate could only pray that she was right.

  Kate remembered her manners and pulled the chair closer to Jamie’s bed so that her aunt could sit down comfortably. She had to be exhausted. She had been either tending to the children or coming in frequently to check on them day and night despite her delicate condition. Well, no one could say that she wasn’t devoted to her children.

  "A man is coming,” her aunt said, as she wiped Jamie's face with the cool, damp cloth that was always kept by his bedside. “He will have the answers we need."

  "A man?"

  "He will help us," she said with absolute certainty.

  "He has the ability to cure them?"

  Her aunt nodded. “If he can’t, he should be able to teach me what I will need to know to do so.”

  “But how is that possible? You are the most powerful Vallen in the country. How could there be anyone…”

  Aunt Vallentyn gave Kate’s arm a squeeze. “He may not be more powerful than I, but he is more knowledgeable. It is his knowledge that I need.”

  “So, then, you will cure them?”

  Aunt Vallentyn didn't deign to respond to the question, leaving Kate to assume that the answer was yes. She didn't dare ask more about whether her aunt had the magical ability to cure them or how there could be a man with more knowledge than that in her aunt’s library.