Air: Merlin's Chalice (The Children of Avalon Book 1) Read online

  And just like that, the priest was dismissed. The king went back to his papers and his war planning and forgot all about his confessor.

  But was this the answer? Father du Lac wondered as he walked thoughtfully back to his chambers. Could this, in fact, be the solution he sought? It was not one that he had thought of before, he had to admit. And the king might be right: the decree might be more meaningful coming from Rome.

  Father du Lac was willing to consider this solution—for the time being.

  Chapter Eight

  Travel was much faster on horseback. I figured that we must have covered the same distance in just a few hours as I had in a day of walking. When I commented on this, Sir Dagonet laughed. “Haven’t even pushed the beast too hard. With two of us on his back, I don’t want him to get too tired, wot?”

  Still, by the late afternoon, it was clear that I wasn’t the only one who was feeling tired. The horse had slowed, and I wasn’t certain, but I thought Sir Dagonet might have fallen asleep altogether—if it was possible to sleep while sitting upon a horse.

  I was very tempted to rest my own head on Sir Dagonet’s back, but just as I did so, the trees began to thin. As we entered a small clearing, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  My whole body filled with warmth and good feelings in the brilliant sunlight, like a raisin soaked in warm water. All the life seeped back into me and I tilted my head back to bask in the sunlight.

  Sir Dagonet, too, perked up—or woke up. “Eh, wot? What?” he said, looking around, a little confused.

  “Can we stop here for a little while?” I asked.

  The old knight jumped at the sound of my voice, as if he’d even forgotten that I was behind him. “Oh, er, yes, of course. Yes, brilliant idea, brilliant idea.” He pulled up on the reins.

  I slid off the horse’s back and immediately felt all of the aches and pains from sitting in one position for too long. I could hardly walk but forced myself to hobble around the warm grass until the aches began to subside.

  Sir Dagonet disappeared into the woods for a minute but came back looking much more content. That was a good idea. I slipped off to relieve myself as well. When I came back, Sir Dagonet was sitting on the grass nibbling at some bread and dried meat, his helmet on the ground next to him staring blankly at the road beside him.

  “Come and have a bite, you’ll feel much better for it,” he offered.

  “Thank you. I’m already feeling much better just being out of that forest.”

  “Er? Oh, yes, don’t like confining spaces, do you?”

  “No, not at all,” I answered, with a decisive tone that made Sir Dagonet laugh.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes, but my curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “What brought you to this part of Wales, sir?”

  “Eh? Oh, er, I was in the service of Lord, er, Lord, er…well, of a nobleman. He sent a bunch of us off to deliver a package to King Offa of Wales and, er, I sort of got left behind.”

  “Left behind?”

  He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Couldn’t quite keep up, don’t you know, wot?” He kept his gaze focused on the road, looking back the way we had come. I couldn’t tell if he was looking for his lost companions, or he was embarrassed by his admission.

  “Oh, how terrible. So they just left you behind?”

  “Well, er, yes. But that’s all right. I found you, didn’t I, wot?”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “Shhh!” Sir Dagonet held up his hand to stop me from speaking.

  “What?” I turned around to look back into the woods.

  “There’s a horse approaching,” Sir Dagonet whispered. “Quick, hide us.”

  “What?”

  “Hide us! Either this is a thief come to steal all of our worldly goods, or—”

  “Someone who could see us burnt as witches?” I whispered back, feeling the hair stand up along my arms.

  Sir Dagonet responded only by raising his eyebrows.

  We both stood. I started for the woods, but Sir Dagonet grabbed my arm. “No time for that. Bring down a cloud; we can hide in its mists.”

  “But…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know how…”

  “And you didn’t know how to remove my sword from the tree either.” Sir Dagonet just looked at me with a small smile and an expectant look in his eyes.

  The sound of hoofbeats were getting closer. I had to try.

  I looked up into the sky. A few small, puffy white clouds floated overhead. Pointing up at one, I slowly curled my fingers down toward my palm, pulling the cloud down with them. It wasn’t a big gesture, but it worked. And this time my fingers didn’t tingle at all. Somehow, pulling a cloud out of the sky was easy compared with removing the sword from the tree.

  Still, it was amazing to watch as the cloud obeyed me, descending to the ground. With a giggle, I looked over at Sir Dagonet. The old man beamed with pride.

  “Oh, well done! I say, well done, wot?”

  Within a moment, we were both enveloped in the cloud, and I couldn’t see two feet in front of me. I laughed again, rather thrilled at my own ability, until Sir Dagonet hushed me. The sound of the horse had slowed as it approached the clearing, which was now filled with the white mist of the cloud.

  I realized I was trembling. I wished the horseman would just move on.

  I wasn’t entirely certain whether my sudden chills were due to my fear of the horseman—or the reality that I had just done magic.

  I simply could not deny that I was a witch—or, I supposed, a Vallen—now. Not to myself, nor to anyone else.

  Suddenly, I noticed the cloud thinning rapidly, and a light rain was falling down on us. I could see Sir Dagonet again, and he looked as surprised as I was.

  Drops of water clung delicately to him as he turned to look at the rider. I followed his gaze and was met by piercing green eyes—so green that even from this distance they stood out from the man’s tanned face. He looked oddly familiar, but I couldn’t remember having ever met him.

  I took a step backward even as I turned to face the strange, stunningly handsome man. His curly black hair, reached down nearly to his shoulders—his very broad, strong shoulders. I felt very small and feminine in his presence.

  He held his arm out in front of him as if he had pushed aside the cloud. My heart missed a beat as Sir Dagonet strode over to him, saying, “Well met! Well met!”

  The man dismounted and bowed politely to Sir Dagonet. Still, he said nothing, just looked from Sir Dagonet to me and back again, his eyes lingering a little longer on me. Perhaps he recognized me as well?

  “Well, that was a fine bit of magic, I say, wot?” Sir Dagonet said, pulling the young man’s attention back to himself.

  The man’s eyebrows rose into the curls that hung down over his forehead. He eyed Sir Dagonet warily. “Magic, sir?”

  “Yes, of course. Oh, no fear, no fear, we’re all Vallen here, I say, wot?” Dagonet said merrily.

  The man’s shoulders came down an inch as the stress of being discovered seemed to flow away from him. Oddly enough, I couldn’t “hear” his thoughts even though I looked directly into his eyes and he looked back at me. I was certain that his were thoughts of relief, though, and I respected him for his caution at being found out.

  How odd that the man’s mind was absolutely quiet. I looked harder at him and actually concentrated on hearing his thoughts, but there was nothing. I couldn’t “hear” him at all. So accustomed was I to being able to know someone’s thoughts that this silence made me feel rather uneasy. How was I to know if he was trustworthy or not? There was no way to tell.

  Was it him or me? Could I not hear his thoughts because he was Vallen, or was something blocking my ability?

  The man raised his eyebrows at me, but his attention kept going back to Sir Dagonet, as if he wasn’t sure who he was supposed to be watching.

  I caught Sir Dagonet’s eyes for a moment. His thrill at meeting the young man came through loud and clear. So it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t because he was Vallen.

  But then how was it that this stranger’s mind was closed to me? And why was he so familiar? I couldn’t have met him before—I certainly would have remembered someone whose mind I couldn’t read.

  There was something odd going on. I knew him, but I didn’t know him. I felt I should be comfortable with him, but I was unsure of him because I couldn’t read his thoughts. This man completely put me off balance.

  “My name is Dylan,” the man was saying with a polite smile.

  “Sir Dagonet at your service,” my new friend said, with an inclination of his head. “And this lovely young lady is Scai.”

  Dylan bowed to me as I curtseyed to him. “Where are you and your daughter bound, Sir Dagonet?”

  “Oh!” Sir Dagonet burst out laughing. “Oh, no. Scai is not my daughter. No, I say, wot?”

  Sir Dagonet didn’t seem to think there was anything odd or dangerous about Dylan, but then he wouldn’t notice his silent mind.

  I forcibly pushed aside my worries, determined to give Dylan the benefit of the doubt—at least until I was proved wrong. And, after all, there was something oddly familiar about him. “We only met this morning,” I offered, allowing my own smile to shine through.

  “Really?”

  “Sir Dagonet was kind enough to save me from a threatening tree. After that, it was only fitting that we travel on together.” I giggled, inviting Dylan to join in on our joke.

  Dylan gave me a confused look, but a small smile played on his lips. “I, er, see, then. Where are you headed?”

  “I am going to England. Sir Dagonet has kindly offered to escort me,” I answered.

  “To protect you fro
m attacking trees?” Dylan asked, finally allowing himself to dissolve into a chuckle.

  “Oh, yes, vitally important to protect young ladies from trees. They can be dangerous things, don’t you know?” Sir Dagonet laughed with him.

  “Well, if you would not mind another to help protect you, Scai, I would be honored to do so,” Dylan offered with a bow.

  I forced another little giggle. “Never had I thought to have two such brave men to protect me on my journey. I am honored indeed.” And this way, I could keep an eye on him.

  Chapter Nine

  I moved with care through the forest. It was dense with enormous oak trees and reaching beeches intertwining with majestic hawthorns. This was an old forest indeed.

  Gnarled branches reached outward and then twisted back on themselves, creating a beautiful, intricate knot that twisted this way and that. I ran my hand along the rough bark of a tree, following one branch as it wove in and out of the others. Careful to keep hold of the same branch, I moved toward the center.

  The branch split and intertwined with other limbs from other trees, like long, reaching fingers. At last, I came to the heart of the knot, where sat a stone, white goblet. Branches blended with the veins in the stone, as if the cup had grown from them like a leaf. But when I reached out for it, I found that the branches were merely cradling the chalice within their gentle claws.

  It took both my hands to lift the large cup from its pedestal of branches. It weighed down my arms, and I had to be careful not to spill the fresh, sweet–smelling water that filled it. I couldn’t resist—I tilted the chalice and took a sip.

  A burst of sweetness exploded in my mouth, as if I had bitten into the first fruit of summer. I was filled with a heavenly bliss, all of my senses alive to the taste, the smell, the feel of the water in my mouth. Closing my eyes, I let the taste and the feeling of joy wash over me—and suddenly I was flying free, floating in the water, hampered only by the luminescent walls of the goblet all around me. The sides were so far apart I could stretch out my whole body and not reach from one end to the other.

  Floating in this blissful chalice, the water gently supporting me, lapping deliciously over my body, I had no fears. All my worries were gone. I was in the right place; I was doing the right thing. I had a purpose, and it was to be here.

  I twisted and laughed, joyful beyond anything I had ever felt before. But even as I did so, the water turned freezing cold. Icy fingers poked into my sides, my arms, my legs.

  My happiness ripped away as I was engulfed. I cried out but choked on ice–cold water.

  I awoke from my dream, coughing and drowning in truth. Tumbling and turning, I flailed my legs and arms, frantically trying to find air. My feet struck something hard—the rocky river bottom. I pushed off with all my might, managing for a moment to get my head above the raging current.

  I gasped in a single breath, but didn’t have time for another before liquid hands pulled me down once more. The weight of the water sat on my chest, pressing me to the bottom. I tried to move, but it was too much. The water held me fast against the floor of the river.

  No, I would not submit!

  I fought against the river once more, clawing my way up, twisting and turning to escape. I reached the surface and stole another quick, gasping breath. I had to find a way out, something to grab on to. A rock, a branch, there had to be something. I tried to look around, but the water’s strong grip pulled me under again, pressing me down, this time pulling me along as it rushed downstream. I would surely drown if I didn’t do something fast. Blackness closed in on me as I ran out of air again. For a moment I shut my eyes and stopped struggling.

  No, I would not give up. Out. I had to escape from the icy fingers of this water. When my feet touched the bottom, I pushed off again. Rejecting the smothering water, I reached out for the sky with all my might. With all my heart. With all my will.

  Once more, I pushed the water down with my arms, reaching up again. I pushed down and then reached up. Again and again, until it was no longer my own arms I saw in front of me but…wings?

  I had wings!

  And I was no longer in the water. I turned my head to one side and looked down. The raging river was far below me. I was high in the sky. But the river seemed to be growing bigger, coming closer. I turned my head back up into the air and pumped down once again with my wings. Again, I rose up into the air. I was flying!

  I laughed at the wind in my face. Never had I been so light, so free. The air fluttered through my feathers as I stretched out my wings to glide along on the current.

  But the river caught my eye once more. Something dark fought against the water. Sir Dagonet! Fear clogged my throat.

  I banked my wings and headed straight toward the old man. He was thrashing around in the water, trying to keep his head above the current, just as I had been doing only moments ago. But how could I get him out?

  In the dim light of the early morning, I spied a tree just ahead of me that had fallen into the river. Its roots were still firmly attached to the bank while its trunk lay sprawled halfway across the water.

  With two strong pumps of my wings, I sped toward it, landing with a bump on my own feet. Straddling the tree trunk and tightening my legs around it with all of my strength, I desperately reached out my arm into the river.

  “Sir Dagonet! Sir Dagonet, grab hold of my hand,” I called to the knight, who was approaching in the rush of the water.

  He surfaced for a moment. I called to him again, gripping the tree even harder with my legs. Just as the man was about to be swept past, I reached out and grabbed his floundering arm. My own arms felt as if they were about to be torn right out of my body, but I held on with all of my strength.

  The excitement of flying, which had allowed me to forget my exhaustion, was gone, leaving only leaden limbs in its place. There was no way I was going to manage to save Sir Dagonet by myself. I searched the bank for any sign of Dylan, but he was nowhere to be seen. We must have left him back where we’d fallen into the river, unless he had already succumbed to the pull of the watery hands.

  No, there was no one but myself—and my magic!

  With my grip on Sir Dagonet’s hand as tight as I could make it, I stared intently at Sir Dagonet and concentrated. Taking a deep breath, I imagined him coming closer to the tree on which I was perched. Closer. Closer.

  My arms were ready to fall right off. My hands were losing their grip. I was about to drop from weariness when the weight stopped pulling at me. I blinked a few times. Sir Dagonet was reaching out to grab onto the trunk. His hand slipped once but then found purchase. With a great heave, he pulled himself out of the water.

  I grabbed onto his tunic to guide him and to make sure he didn’t slip back into the churning river.

  He lay panting on his stomach, his legs still dangling into the water. I rested my head on his heaving back.

  Slowly the two of us managed to catch our breath, but I didn’t think I would ever be able to move again. I was so tired.

  As soon as he was able, Sir Dagonet pulled himself the rest of the way out of the water then dragged himself, and me, to the shore.

  Dylan ran up to us just as we stepped foot onto dry land. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, thanks to Scai,” Sir Dagonet said, still out of breath.

  “I…I couldn’t believe it. Scai, you turned into a bird and flew straight out of the water,” Dylan said. His face was pale, but filled with awe.

  My mind was little more than mush from my exhaustion. “I…I was a bird?” I whispered, my teeth beginning to chatter in the cold air of the autumn morning. But even as I said it, I knew that he was right. I had felt myself fly. I had flapped my wings and glided above the surface of the water. It had been incredible!

  Even the shivering Sir Dagonet was looking at me now in amazement. He, who was used to magic, looked at me as if I had done something truly extraordinary. I wished I had the energy to ask him why he was looking that way, but I was too far beyond tired. My legs gave out and I sank to the ground, unable to even stand any longer.

  “I don’t know how I did it. I just…” I paused. “I just needed to get out of the water, and so I did,” I explained to the two men with a shrug of my shoulders, even as I curled my knees up against my chest and wrapped my arms around them.