Air: Merlin's Chalice (The Children of Avalon Book 1) (2 page)

Dafydd looked at me with a nervousness in his eyes. Lowering the wheel to the ground, he shifted away from me.

I ignored the man’s body language, certain that Dafydd would forgive me later. Holding up my basket, I said brightly, “I’m bound for Ellen’s.” I turned to Old John and asked as gently as I could, “John, you don’t need payment for mending Dafydd’s wheel immediately, do you?”

“Payment?” Dafydd exclaimed. “I have no intention of paying for such shoddy work!”

“Shoddy work, now, is it?” Old John said, taking another menacing step toward Dafydd.

“Dafydd, you know that Old John’s work is as good as ever. Now that the rain has stopped, the river should be back to normal within a few days. Your grain will be ground and sold quickly and then you’ll have the money you need to pay for the wheel.” I turned back to the wheelwright. “It would be all right if he doesn’t pay you until next week, wouldn’t it, John?” I gave him my most charming smile, completely ignoring Dafydd’s wide eyes and the fact that his ears and cheeks had turned absolutely scarlet.

Old John’s eyes flicked from me to Dafydd and then back again. Dafydd had begun to look madder than an ox with a thorn in his hoof, but he kept his mouth shut in a tight, grim line.

“Is that what it is, then? It’s just the rain that has kept you from grinding and selling your barley?”

“And how did you know that, Scai?” said a voice from behind me. I turned and saw Tomos there, along with some of the people from the prayer group, Nye from the bakery, and Margaret as well. Some of them shifted or looked away when I moved toward them. One man turned his head away so I couldn’t look into his eyes. But most of them stood their ground, glaring anger and accusations at me.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how I knew that Dafydd didn’t have the money. It had just been there, in his eyes.

“Well?” Old John prodded.

I turned back to Dafydd. He looked at me, but said nothing—just waited with the rest for my explanation.

I wished I had one to give. “He…” I started.

“I never said a word about not having the money, did I, John?” Dafydd interrupted, turning to the wheelwright.

“No, you never did,” the other man concurred.

“And little Michael never said a thing about taking a jar of honey from my shop last week, and yet Scai knew he’d done it. And she wasn’t even there when it happened,” Margaret said, coming out from between some of the men.

“You made the sun come out today. I could see that Father thought so,” Tomos said, coming closer. They all began to surround me. I took a step back, but Dafydd was there, frowning at me.

“I didn’t, I couldn’t… I can’t make the sun come out. That’s ridiculous!” I stammered, trying to laugh. My eyes flitted from one person to the next. Surely, they didn’t think I had anything to do with the weather?

“You
prayed
for the sun to come out, didn’t you, Scai?” Father Llewellyn asked, as he walked into the crowd surrounding me.

My eyes locked onto those of my guardian. Thank God he was here! Safety and support resonated from his eyes. “Of course I did, Father. We all did.”

Father Llewellyn nodded. “We all did,” he said, indicating the people who had been there. “We all prayed for the sun, and our prayers were answered.”

I looked around at the others, but my momentary feeling of security was gone as soon as I did so. Why didn’t they believe me?

“We
all
prayed for the sun,” I repeated, hoping to get through to them.

“I still say that you’re a witch,” Margaret said, glaring at me.

“What? No!” I moved closer to Father Llewellyn. He would protect me. There was nowhere for me to go.

“You’re a witch, admit it,” Dafydd growled.

I spun around to face my accuser, secure with Father right behind me. “I’m not! Father…”

“Scai is a special young woman,” Father said, putting his hand reassuringly on my shoulder, “but to call her a witch after all that she has done to help each and every one of you? She is a kind and caring girl, who helps others whenever and however she can.”

A breath of relief escaped from me. They wouldn’t hurt me, not with Father there. But that didn’t mean that they weren’t thinking about it. I could feel them—feel their anger, their fear. They wanted to hurt me. Thoughts of witch burnings slipped through their minds. A woman had been drowned a few weeks ago in a neighboring town, accused of witchcraft. They could do the same to me.

“You all know me,” I pleaded with them. I tried to keep my voice calm, but my legs had begun to tremble and feel weak.

“Yes, and we all know that you always know too much,” Old John said.

“Witch!” Margaret hissed, taking another step forward.

“No! I just try to help people,” I cried, trying to hold back my tears. I turned to Father. He would help me. He had to.

“You do help people,” he reassured me and the others. “And that is just what you were doing right now, wasn’t it Scai? You were taking that basket of food to poor Ellen. Why don’t you go and do that?” Father stepped back so that I could move from the circle.

I looked gratefully at Father as I slipped past him. He gave me a reassuring smile, but the look in his eyes told me to get away fast. To run, if necessary.

And I nearly did.

I dared to take one look back but turned right around again. They were all watching me.

Chapter Three

N
imuë’s fingers were tingling. It was time. With every sense in her body, she knew it was finally time.

She had been waiting for this for almost two hundred years. It was a rather long time to wait for three children to be born and grow up, but it would be worth it in the end. In the end, she would be the unquestioned ruler of the world of the Vallen—and soon after that, the human world as well. It was only right that the Vallen, a powerful race, rule ordinary humans. Why this was not already so, she couldn’t fathom.

And as soon as those children were dead and no longer a threat to her, she would be the most powerful Vallen. It would most certainly be worth such a very, very long wait.

Anticipation sent a luscious shiver through her as she opened her cabinet. Reaching to the very back, she pulled out her fine silver bowl and water skin. The bowl gleamed, reflecting the sun’s rays throughout the room, as she unwrapped it and set it on the table. Carefully uncorking the water skin, Nimuë poured the precious liquid into the bowl.

As its scent wafted up to her, her senses were overwhelmed with memories of home. The smell of the flowers and rich earth, the taste of the most delicious fruits and the sweetest vegetables. Her ears rang with laughter and song—everything that spoke of happiness.

It was Avalon. And it was something Nimuë had not experienced for a very long time.

Her eyes stung momentarily with unshed tears, but she blinked them away. This was no time for sentimentality. She had much more important work to do.

Focusing on the sacred water of Avalon, Nimuë willed the faces of the three children to be shown to her. Despite the distance of seven generations, her connection to them should still be strong enough.

Slowly, the world around her faded away. The pounding from the armorer below, the thumping of horses’ hooves on the compacted dirt of the courtyard, even the room around her disappeared from her vision, just as the Isle itself had faded into the mists. The only thing left was her own reflection shimmering in the water before her eyes. Softly, Nimuë blew a ripple across its glossy surface—and through the undulating water, another face appeared, replacing her own reflection.

The face was of a pretty, young woman. She was in her late teens, if not older. Her brilliant blue eyes stared out at Nimuë, laughing, full of love and happiness. Freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. A hand appeared, pushing back bright red curls behind her ears. Seeing the clarity of the image sparked a nagging worry in the back of Nimuë’s mind. If they all appeared this clearly in her scrying bowl —could they already be too schooled for her to defeat? No! That could not be. Even though they were adults now, they had not yet discovered who they truly were, nor, even more importantly, found each other. She refocused on the water. And she couldn’t have killed them while they were still children. Even she had limits.

The scene behind the girl dissolved into recognizable buildings—Gloucester. A slow smile crept onto Nimuë’s face. She had been to St. Peter’s Abbey not too long ago. Now, it looked as if she would be paying it another visit.

Nimuë stood back from the water for a moment. The young woman did not look like a killer. She did not look like a powerful Vallen either, but looks could deceive. Nimuë smiled wryly as she reflected: no one would have ever thought that she herself could be so… determined.

But there was something else in this face. Something familiar. Nimuë did not know what it was, and she did not have time right now to try to figure it out.

She blew another gentle breeze over the water and watched as the girl’s face dissolved into another. Her own—no, wait. Not her own, but one so very much like hers it was uncanny.

Her own green eyes stared up at her, set above the same high cheekbones as hers and a nose that, although a bit larger, was very familiar. Even the smile, holding a hint of pain, echoed her own. It was the jaw line, distinctly masculine, that distinguished this face from Nimuë’s. This was a young man, who despite his meager years—certainly not much more than twenty—had known sorrow and distress. And yet he smiled at her as if he beheld something very pleasing to his eye. What was it that he was looking at that made him smile in this way?

Nimuë shook such ridiculous musings from her mind. This boy was destined to kill her! Did it matter who he was or what made him smile? No. What mattered was that she find him before he found her.

But where was he? Unremarkable scenery gathered behind him. Green trees made up his surroundings, that and a swiftly flowing stream. There was nothing to mark his location. He could have been anywhere in England or Wales. But this did not deter Nimuë. She would find him; she had no fear of this.

Once again, she blew across the sacred water of Avalon and willed for it to show her its third child. But this image was indistinct, the features hazy and indeterminate. Long, straight blond hair was all that she could make out, and even that was uncertain as it fluttered in a breeze against a brilliant blue sky.

But why was this one so unclear? Did she not know who she was? Of what she was capable? Even at this age—for the girl, like the boy, must be in her early twenties. It must be that. There was no other explanation.

With nothing else to see, Nimuë sat back and closed her eyes in exhaustion. It was not easy seeing into the waters of Avalon, and she was out of practice. One arm dropped uselessly to her side, the other resting on her rapidly rising and falling stomach.

Could she be getting old? The thought made her chuckle. No, thank goodness, she was not old, and if she could help it, she never would be. Just as Merlin had been forever old, Nimuë was determined to stay forever young.

But to do so, she would first have to rid the world of these three. That they had come to her individually was a good sign. That meant that they had not yet found each other. She still had time to kill them off before they discovered each other and their destiny. But she would have to act fast, of that she was certain. She was nearly too late.

Chapter Four

I
walked as fast as I could, keeping my eyes firmly on the ground in front of me. My feet kept time with the pounding of my heart. I watched my shoes appear and disappear out from under the hem of my dress as I strode up the hill toward Ellen’s house.

The thin wooden door of the house appeared before me sooner than I anticipated and I almost walked straight into it.

It swung open in front of me. “Oh! Scai, you scared me out of my wits.” Ellen took a step back into her house, but then stopped, clearly not moving to invite me in. There was a noticeable lack of cooking smells coming from the house. Ellen should have been well into preparing the evening’s meal by now, but the only smell was the stale air from the windows being closed for too long.

I took a small step into the doorway but didn’t go any further as Ellen took another step backward as well. Surely Ellen didn’t think… no, I wouldn’t think about Margaret and Dafydd’s accusation. I was not a witch. I was a compassionate person, and I was here to offer my condolences.

Holding out the basket, I said, “I’m sorry, Ellen. I was just about to knock. I brought you a basket of food. I am so sorry about Hugh. He was a good man.”

Ellen brushed her hair, now liberally sprinkled with gray, out of her face. “Thank you so much. You are a good girl, Scai.” Her eyes swam with tears, but she blinked them away before any could fall into the deep pouches under her eyes.

I handed her the basket with one hand and gave her arm a friendly squeeze. “I know that you’ll be all right. You’re such a strong woman, Ellen. I can’t tell you how much I admire your strength during such a difficult time.”

Ellen now truly looked as if she was going to cry, but she held her lips firm.

“And if you ever need any help looking after the little ones, I do hope you will call for me. You know I would be happy to help out in any way that I can,” I continued.

“Thank you,” Ellen whispered. “Thank you, and God bless you.” The woman met my gaze for the briefest moment, before turning away to put the basket inside.

Ellen, too, thought there was something odd about me.

But there wasn’t!
I wasn’t a witch.

I clenched my fists and spun away from Ellen’s house. How could they think that of me? I loved helping people. I’d never hurt anyone. I’d only ever helped people. Why couldn’t they see that?

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Without a conscious thought, my footsteps started in the direction I needed to go, but by the time I was halfway there my fear broke into tears. I lifted up my skirts and ran the rest of the way.