Children of Avalon Read online

  “So I’ve heard, wot?” Sir Dagonet said, nodding again.

  “Then why don’t you see if they could make a sword for you there, Dylan?” she asked.

  I turned to her. It was a great idea, but something even better occurred to me. The one time I had dreamed of Avalon, Lady Morgan had given me the real Excalibur for my very own.

  Surely, my dream would come true. It had to. And if it did, then our worries of fighting Nimuë were over—there was no way I couldn’t win against anyone if I were wielding Excalibur.

  “I will definitely look into that, Bridget, thank you,” I said, keeping my voice even and my emotions in check. It was so uncertain that my dream could actually come true, that I didn’t dare get my hopes up—or the hope of the girls either. Still, excitement splashed through me like the water of a raging river. I pushed it all back behind the dam in my mind so that not a drop of excitement leaked out, but it was with a much lighter step that I approached the boat that would take us across to the island.

  Chapter 3

  “Is this your doing, Morgan?” Nimuë asked. She stormed into her sister’s sitting room in her home on Avalon, fury practically sparking off of her. Morgan looked up from the papers she was reading while sitting on the thick white fur rug covering the floor. “What are you accusing me of now, Nimuë?”

  “Helping the Children of Avalon again,” she said. She bit the words off, enunciating clearly so that perhaps Morgan would understand her this time—understand just how this made her feel, understand that she didn’t appreciate her sister’s intrusions into her life.

  Morgan sighed and leaned back against the low white chair behind her. “I have done nothing as yet. I’m waiting for them to arrive here. Then, I will be more than happy to help them with anything they need.” Her sister gave her a sweet smile, just to enrage her further. It was working, but Nimuë did her best to hide it, to push it away.

  “How can you?” she demanded, focusing on the pain of betrayal. “How can you do this, giving no thought to me, your own sister? I know that you crave power, Morgan, but...”

  “I care nothing for power, Nimuë. It is you who are obsessed with it, not I. You are the one who will not stop until, what? Until you rule Avalon? Until you are the most powerful Vallen in the world?”

  So her sister did know what her intentions were. She hadn’t thought she was stupid. Nimuë had only been working on establishing her position in the world of men for two hundred years now. And she would rule, Nimuë was certain of it. She just had to get rid of that annoying trio first. “Then why are you helping them?”

  Morgan looked down at the papers still in her hand and then placed them on the floor next to her. “Nimuë, the Children of Avalon are the future. They are what the world needs to continue, to survive. It needs their youth and forward thinking. They will adapt to the times and will help to build the future. We, dear sister, are the past.”

  Nimuë looked at Morgan. She didn’t believe even one of the beautiful–sounding words that slithered off of her sister’s tongue with such ease. “And you are simply going to step aside and allow them to take over the rule of Avalon?”

  “No. That’s not necessary. Avalon itself is a thing of the past. Already we have disappeared from sight; very soon we will be gone even from the memories of the ordinary people as well.”

  “How...” Nimuë stopped herself. She would ask how her sister could even say such a thing, but she knew how—because it was true. She knew it was so because she, herself, had been living in the ordinary world for the past two hundred years. She knew that people no longer thought of Avalon. Most thought it was gone forever from this world.

  Finally, she shook her head. “I will not give up. No matter what, I will stop them.”

  “You will not harm them while they reside in my domain, Nimuë. You know I could not allow that. After all you have done, you are here only because I tolerate it. If the priestesses had their say you would be banished forever.”

  Nimuë lifted her chin. “I care nothing for your priestesses.”

  “The feeling is mutual, but you cannot imagine that they are going to like you and wish you to stay among them when you have defamed me. Throughout history I will be the one thought of as evil.”

  Nimuë waved a negligent hand. “You don’t seem to care; why should they?”

  “They do. And the fact that you imprisoned Merlin doesn’t sit very well with them either. He was a much–beloved member of our community.”

  At that Nimuë did feel a pang of regret, but there was nothing that she would have done differently. She had needed his powers; he had given her all that he would. That was the end.

  Oh yes, they had shared a great love—and no one, not even her dearest sister, knew just how deep that had run within her, and still did, for that matter. But Merlin had understood, just as she had known he would. No, she would feel no guilt for imprisoning him.

  “All of this is past history, Morgan.”

  “To you, maybe, but to the priestesses here, it is still very much alive in their memories. Remember, time moves very differently here on Avalon.”

  Nimuë frowned and moved to the table to pour herself a glass of wine. “None of this solves my problem, however.”

  “And what problem is that? Our young Vallen who wish to kill you?”

  “Yes. That.”

  “Well, honestly, Nimuë, you can’t expect me to tell you how to kill them. I’m here to protect them,” Morgan said, exasperation beginning to tell in her voice.

  “Stop doing so! The prophecy mentions nothing of you protecting them.”

  “No, I am not mentioned. But I will do what I believe to be right, nonetheless. Although our destiny is set, there is no reason why I can’t help it along in one direction or the other. I am simply trying to move things in the direction I believe they should go. Merlin’s prophecy did allow for two possibilities...”

  “Yes, and I am attempting to ensure that the one where I am not killed is the one that plays out,” Nimuë said, interrupting Morgan’s lecture.

  Morgan nodded. “Completely understandable,” she acknowledged. “But then do not stop me from working toward what I think would be the best for my people. And toward that end, I think it would be best that you not return to Avalon.”

  “You are banishing me from my home?” Now she was truly hurt.

  “Not forever. Just while the Children are here. I have promised them safe haven, and they shall have it. I will do whatever is necessary, Nimuë.”

  “As will I,” Nimuë said, slamming down her goblet so hard that the wine sloshed over the sides. Spinning on her toe, Nimuë walked out. There was nothing more she could discuss with her sister. Morgan would not help her.

  But Nimuë still needed to find a way to defeat that trio. She marched down to her lake, her annoyance keeping time with her footsteps.

  Time and time again they had escaped her magic. No matter what she had thrown at them, they’d managed to get past it. Even when she herself had gone to take care of them, she had been defeated by a tree. A tree! Anger and a touch of humiliation burned through her.

  No. She would not allow her emotions to cloud her thinking. What was happening made no sense. How could they keep getting past her? They were children, after all—albeit powerful ones, and not exactly young—but in her eyes, children all the same. What had they, twenty some years to her more than three hundred? She was infinitely more powerful, more knowledgeable, more clever...

  “My lady!” a voice called out, disturbing her. “My Lady Nimuë.” A priestess came running up to her. She stopped, sinking into a low curtsey.

  Nimuë waited for the girl to speak her mind.

  She cleared her throat, but didn’t lift her eyes from the ground. “I, uh, I overheard you and my great–grandmother speaking,” she began.

  “Great–grandmother?” Nimuë interrupted her. She put the pieces together in her mind. “You are Morwen? Granddaughter of Mordred?”

  The gir
l curtseyed again, but this time lifted her gaze. Nimuë could see the distinctive blue–green of her sister’s own eyes. “Yes, my lady.”

  Nimuë looked her over. It was nearly impossible to tell that the girl had to be over seventy–five years old. She didn’t look older than her mid–twenties. Nimuë nodded. “Go on. You eavesdropped on my conversation?” she prompted.

  The girl didn’t even blink at the accusation. “Yes, ma’am. And I...I thought that perhaps, since she doesn’t want you here on the island while the Children of Avalon are in residence, you might consider using me to aid you.”

  Nimuë peered at the girl more closely. What game was she up to? Had Morgan sent her here to spy on her?

  “No, ma’am,” the girl answered her question, obviously reading her mind. “I am here on my own; I swear it before the almighty goddess.”

  “Why do you want to help me?”

  “Because, if you’ll excuse the impertinence, ma’am, I believe Lady Morgan has ruled Avalon long enough. It’s time for a change. We have disappeared into the mists and been forgotten by the ordinary people and even by our own people out in world. But, I believe, that if you gain the power you seek, you will be able to bring us back. We are not here to simply be forgotten. We need you to stand up for us, to rule us and to make us known to the world. Only you could do that.”

  Nimuë nodded, allowing a small smile to tug up one corner of her mouth. The girl was right. She would have that ability if she was able to get hold of the chalice and Merlin’s powers. She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to bring Avalon back from the mists, but she need not mention that fact to the girl, and it couldn’t hurt to have an ally here on the island.

  “Very well. And what do you think it is that you can do for me here?”

  The girl obviously hadn’t anticipated this question. She studied the ground between them. “I could befriend the children, my lady.” Her eyes came up to meet Nimuë’s. “I could befriend them and gain their trust. Perhaps I could even entice them to put the chalice into my care.”

  Nimuë scoffed at that idea. “A little too farfetched, my dear. Morgan is certain to maintain tight control over the chalice while it is here. Why would she or the trio entrust it to you?”

  The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. But it couldn’t hurt to try.”

  Nimuë had to agree with that, but she didn’t expect it to work. It was too simplistic. But perhaps the girl could be of some use. “Very well. Become friends with the children after they arrive. Get as close as you can. I doubt they’ll just give you the chalice, but maybe you can find another way to help.”

  The girl gave her a brilliant smile. “Thank you, my lady. Thank you.”

  ~~~~~

  I sighed, trying to rid myself of the pointless tension that was still wound up inside of me. I shifted on the hard bench I was sharing with Sir Dagonet in the very front of the boat. “We should have known. We should have seen it coming. Nimuë would never just leave and let us win.”

  “But how did she know that we would be staying at that inn last night?” Bridget asked, turning from staring aimlessly out at the sea.

  “The closest one around,” Sir Dagonet answered succinctly.

  “Oh.”

  “The faster we get to Avalon the better, wot, wot?” was Sir Dagonet’s immediate response.

  “One strong breeze, coming up,” Scai whispered. She focused her eyes on the sky.

  I turned around to the fisherman who sat in the back of the boat, one hand on the tiller, the other clutching onto the rope attached to the sail. “About how long will it take to get to the isle?” I called out.

  “Eh? Oh, about four or five hours. Maybe less, we seem to be picking up a good wind.”

  “Four or five...!” Bridget exclaimed. She turned to her sister and whispered, “Scai, make the wind stronger.”

  Scai just shook her head. “I don’t want to risk the boat tipping over if I make it too strong.”

  Bridget let out an audible sigh and then sat back, her arms crossed over her chest.

  I tried to do the same, but I was too antsy. I needed to move, to do something. My mind was still racing around the battle, reliving it, refighting it.

  My foster brother’s voice in my mind would not be quieted either: That was slow and sloppy, Dylan. What would your father have to say that?

  Yes, he’d always known just what would get me to work harder—my father. My father who hadn’t come to visit me often, but every now and then would show up unannounced to see to my progress. I had never been good enough, no matter how hard I tried. I wasn’t strong enough, quick enough, clever enough. My father expected me to be all that and quick with my magic as well. And what had I done today? Been slow, stupid, with bad fighting form and, as if that weren’t enough, it hadn’t even occurred to me to use my magic until it was almost too late.

  I closed my eyes feeling the pain of my father’s disappointment before shoving it behind my protective wall where all emotion went.

  I had to stop thinking about this. If I didn’t, how was I going to be able to sit here for the next four hours?

  Sir Dagonet had already begun to snore softly next to me. The man amazed me—he could sleep anytime, anywhere, even while riding!

  My eye was caught by movement in the water and an idea struck me. I pulled off my boots and stood up.

  “I’m going to go for a swim. I’ll see you all later,” I said, as I pulled off my tunic. In one fluid motion, without waiting for a response, I dove over the side of the boat into the water.

  The shock of the ice–cold water almost made me forget what I was about. It had been a very long time since I’d felt water this cold. Not since last winter, when I had to break through ice in my basin to wash in the morning.

  Lack of oxygen, however, quickly reminded me of what I needed to do. As I swam deeper into the sea, I bent my mind and energy to the task at hand. The heat of my magic tingled through my legs as they blended together to form a tail fin, moved into my arms to form fins on the side of my body, and finally into my torso as it swelled into the shape of a fish. I stretched out my neck and took a deep ‘breath’ of water through my gills, relishing the feel of oxygen filling my body once again.

  With a great pump of my tail I shot through the water, leaving behind any feeling of cold as the heat of my magic warmed me from the inside out.

  It was endless, this sea. There were no banks to confine me. Nothing to stop me from swimming to the end of the earth. I’d never swum in the sea before. It was so... so freeing!

  And it felt good to move. I gave a few strong pumps with my tail and shot forward, twisting my body only slightly to change direction. Slowly, all of my muscles relaxed. Even my mind began to relax.

  There was no one about. Nothing but the other fish, plants, and all of the other assorted lives in the sea.

  There was no fighting here, no magic save for my presence — and, best of all, no Nimuë.

  What could I have done better? My traitorous mind returned once again to the fight. It was the question my father had always forced me to answer when he’d come to visit. What could I have done?

  I could have controlled my sword better instead of just randomly swinging it at the dragon, making my arm tired and my aim go awry when I finally went in for the kill. I could have paused for just a moment to look for the beast’s weakness. That would have saved me time, energy, and my sword. Of course, if I’d had Excalibur I wouldn’t have had the problem of my weapon breaking. The proper weapon was everything.

  The chalice! I stopped swimming. If I could have hit myself in the head I would have, but my fins didn’t reach. I hadn’t even thought to use my most powerful weapon—Merlin’s chalice. How could I have been so stupid?

  Well, I certainly wouldn’t make that mistake again. The next time I faced Nimuë, and I had no doubt that I would before too long, I would definitely make use of the chalice. Yes, the next time, I would finish her off once and for all.

  If I could
have whooped with excitement, I would have done so. As it was, I swam faster, doing tricks in the water.

  There were no rules here in the sea. No one to tell me I was doing it wrong, or that I had to do this or that. And best of all, even my own mind was no longer telling me what I was capable of or not. I could do it all—whatever it was.

  I swam down to the bottom—and it was very far down—and then turned around and pumped with all of my strength straight up, leaping up and out of the water, spinning my body around as I did so, to slice head first back into the sea.

  What freedom! What a feeling!

  Feeling! What if I allowed mine out? What if I lowered my barrier wall—the dam behind which I held all of my emotions? Could I? Would I dare?

  I looked around me at all of the fish, which were avoiding me, as I was a stranger among them. They wouldn’t care if I let out my emotions, and the emotions of fish hardly had the strength to impact me.

  Slowing down my swimming, I refocused inward. I called to mind the wall I’d meticulously built over so many years to keep my emotions in and others’ out. Slowly I began pushing out the top–most stone. Metaphorical mortar rained down as the stone fell from its place and disintegrated. Feelings, all sorts of feelings, began to well up inside of me even as I began working on the next stone.

  Happiness, anger, excitement, and fear—every emotion that I had kept locked behind this wall for so many years began to swirl around inside of my mind. Pain, joy, lust, and fury—they moved ever faster, sensing freedom was at hand.

  As the second stone disappeared, a great explosion inside of my mind rocked me. All of my emotions burst through the dam leaving me gasping for air.

  I couldn’t think. I could hardly breathe. I floated in the water, unable to even focus my eyes on the world around me.

  The humiliation of my father berating me in public cut through me, only to be followed immediately by the burning lust Patric had felt upon seeing a beautiful woman. Fear of being beaten by my foster–brother, followed the joy of having escaped him. Bewildering sadness when my mother died, and fury from Bridget that very first time she’d confronted me at the inn just before she accidentally set it on fire. On and on it went. Experience after emotion after experience.