Air: Merlin's Chalice (The Children of Avalon Book 1) (8 page)

“Do you really think so?”

The voice caught Nimuë unawares. She started, looking around her room. The bed, wardrobe, trunk—all were as normal. There was no one there.

“Nimuë, tell me you do not miss him. Tell me you do not miss the way things were,” the voice said again.

This time Nimuë looked down at the water in front of her. Her sister’s visage shimmered in the slightly undulating liquid.

She had hardly changed a bit. But then, time moved very differently on Avalon than it did here in the outside world. Morgan le Fey’s strawberry blonde hair had only the slightest touch of silver glittering within it. Perhaps there were a few more lines around her pale blue eyes, but certainly nothing that said that she was well over two hundred years old.

“Sister! What a surprise,” Nimuë exclaimed with honest joy.

“You are looking well, Nimuë,” Morgan said, cocking her head a little to the side as she looked up at her.

“Of course. My magic is strong. Although I live in this world, I still age as if I were on Avalon.” Nimuë chided herself silently for her curt answer. Why could she never speak nicely to Morgan? She had not seen her sister for a long time. She had missed her, but still she could not speak to her in anything other than a churlish voice.

“And yet, the years pass by so much more quickly for you. It does not, however, stop you from remembering, or thinking about your old…alliances, shall we say?” A sly smile crept over Morgan’s beautiful face.

“If you are referring to Merlin, you know we had more than just an
alliance
.”

“But you never truly loved him. You bore him a child, and yet your heart was left untouched.”

Nimuë suppressed a grimace of pain as her sister’s words cut straight into her heart. Morgan would never know, never understand the love she’d had for Merlin. “I suppose you loved Arthur with your heart and soul, then?” she said, as always, swapping blow for blow.

Morgan’s face lost any trace of a smile. “Yes, I did. And I still do.”

“Which is why he still lies there in state.”

“And will do so until the time is right.”

“Yes, yes, until the world needs him again,” Nimuë said with an exaggerated sigh.

“Until they are ready for him.” Morgan’s words were clipped with anger.

Nimuë sighed for real this time. It was the same old thing. Honestly, her sister never changed.

“Now tell me, sister.” Morgan interrupted Nimuë’s thoughts. “What is it that makes you think so hard of Avalon and Merlin? What is it that has called me to you once more?”

Nimuë paused. She had not realized that her thoughts would draw her sister to her—she had forgotten. “The prophecy,” she answered shortly.

“Ah, the prophecy. Merlin’s last. Yes, I remember it well. Has it begun?”

“I have seen two of the three children in the water. They are grown, but the three have not yet met.”

“And the chalice?”

Nimuë scowled. “I do not know where it might be.”

Morgan nodded, clearly enjoying her sister’s ignorance.

“It does not matter. It will not come into play,” Nimuë insisted.

“So you will kill the Children of Avalon before they have had a chance to find it?” Morgan asked dispassionately.

Nimuë gave a little shrug. “Of course. He allowed for the possibility that I would do so.” She paused. “He knew me well,” she said, her voice softened, remembering.

She pushed away her memories—they would not serve her now. She had much more important things that concerned her. “They are no match for me. I will stop them,” she added with deadly quiet.

“ ‘One will gain the power of three…’ ” her sister quoted.

“ ‘And the mightiest force in the world will be,’ ” Nimuë finished. “I assure you, I have not forgotten. I will not kill them right away. Unless there is no other alternative, I will keep them alive until I have gained their powers.”

“Capturing them will be much trickier than simply killing them,” Morgan pointed out.

“I know. But while they are adults in this world, in ours they are little more than children, after all. It should not be a problem.”

Morgan nodded. “Good luck with that.” She smiled. An unseen breeze blew across the water and her sister disappeared into the ripples.

Nimuë stood staring into the silver bowl for another few minutes. The vision of the girl, the redhead, came to her mind and suddenly she knew exactly who it was the child had reminded her of. It was her sister! She had the same smile. The same mouth.

Of course! The Lady’s line. The prophecy had said that two of the children would be of the Lady’s line. Naturally, Merlin was referring to Morgan. And of his own blood—that would be the boy with her face. Nimuë smiled. He may be of Merlin’s blood, but he had her own handsome visage.

After two hundred years, her and Morgan’s own descendants were going to try to destroy her. How ironic! Merlin did always enjoy a good joke.

Well, as Morgan had said, good luck with that. Nimuë laughed.

Chapter Eleven

W
ith effort, I pulled my attention away from Dylan, who had now mounted his horse. Sir Dagonet suggested that I ride sitting sideways to accommodate my skirts. I nodded, accepting his hand to help me onto his horse. I didn’t feel quite as secure as I had riding astride, but it was certainly more comfortable—and my legs weren’t showing indecently as they had been.

As it neared nightfall, Sir Dagonet and Dylan began looking about for a likely place to stop for the night. A sound caught my attention. Dylan seemed to hear it, too, because he turned suddenly and looked at me.

“What is it?” Sir Dagonet asked.

“Someone’s in great distress. Can you feel it, Scai?” Dylan asked.

“I can’t feel another’s emotions, but I hear it,” I said, as Dylan dismounted. He took a few hesitant steps toward the woods that clung to the road we were following. A trickle of a stream led from between the trees and emptied into the river to our right.

Tying his horse to a tree, he disappeared into the woods.

I dropped down off of Sir Dagonet’s horse and followed him.

I found him squatting next to a woman who was huddled over the stream. The woman was on her knees, rocking back and forth, her face hidden in her hands.

“It’s all right, now. It’s all right,” Dylan murmured.

I noticed that the woman’s shoulders were shaking as if she were laughing—or crying. Squatting down on the ground on the other side of her, I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. “Please, let us help you.”

The woman looked up at me. Her eyes were filled with tears and despair. She shook head. “You can’t. There is nothing that you can do.” She buried her face in her hands once again.

“Her husband has left her,”
I projected into Dylan’s mind, not wanting to say the harsh words out loud.
“He’s gone to serve the local lord, to fight for him. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do without her husband. She loves him deeply and is afraid he’ll be killed.”

Dylan caught my eyes.
“Thanks, I’ll see what I can do now.”

He turned back to the woman, clearly dismissing me. But I wasn’t ready to leave him alone with her. I wasn’t certain I trusted him enough, so I stood up and moved away, but stayed within sight.

Dylan settled himself down onto the ground next to the woman, placed his hand gently on her shoulder and began speaking to her in a soothing voice. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, he was speaking too softly, but the woman stopped her rocking and turned her tear–stained face to Dylan’s, listening to his words.

She then began to speak to him. She told him of her life and her family—four children and her husband’s parents. They all lived together in the village not too far from here. But the local lord had come looking for men. He’d offered them a huge amount of money if they would come with him. Her husband couldn’t pass up the opportunity, but she desperately wished that he had.

“He’s going to return to you,” Dylan told the woman.

Her eyes grew wary. “How do you know this?”

But Dylan just shrugged his shoulders. “I just know. Do you believe me?”

The woman thought about it for a moment and then slowly nodded her head.

“Good. Because it’s true. He’s going to come back to you. It may not be for some time, but eventually, he will be back. Until then, you and your children will be fine.” He spoke with absolute certainty, and something else. There was something else in his voice—a touch of magic, perhaps? I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there
was
more. There had to be because the woman looked very calm now and almost happy.

“That was a very good thing you did,” I said, after the woman had left to return to her home.

Dylan stopped short at my words.

I had waited for him just inside of the woods by the road. I didn’t know what to think of him anymore. Only that morning I had believed him capable of intentionally harming, perhaps even killing, myself and Sir Dagonet, and now he had been so kind to this stranger, using his magic and his words to make her feel better and allay her fears. So which was he, good or bad? I couldn’t figure it out. It was disturbing.

“You heard me speaking to that woman?” he asked.

I nodded.

Dylan’s mouth formed a slash across his face. “How dare you eavesdrop on my conversation with her? You had no right to do that.”

My mouth dropped open. “But I told you what was wrong, why she was there crying.”

“Yes, but then you should have left. You seem to have no concept of privacy,” he said, before turning and walking away from me.

“Why are you so angry?”

Dylan spun back around. “Because you listened in on a conversation that you had no business hearing.”

“But…I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want me to hear your conversation. It wasn’t private. And I do know when not to listen,” I retorted, stinging from his angry words. “But this didn’t seem to be a time when I shouldn’t.”

“Well, it was,” he said. He turned away, but didn’t move. Instead, he muttered, “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone what I did.”

“Why? And who would I tell?”

Dylan turned back around. “I don’t know. Sir Dagonet, or anyone. I don’t like people to know…” he stopped.

“To know what? That you help others?” I didn’t know what to think of this.

“Yes.”

“How did you help her, by the way?” I couldn’t help asking. The only thing that I could make out was that he had said a few very kind words, but the woman seemed extraordinarily relieved for just that.

Dylan shrugged and looked off toward the stream. “If I touch someone, I can—I can project feelings into people. I can make them angry or calm. It’s a rather powerful ability.”

“Yes, it certainly is,” I concurred, amazed that anyone could have a power like that. “So, you just made her feel calm and happier?”

“Yes…” Dylan paused and looked me directly in the eye. “You won’t tell anyone that I did this,” he said firmly.

I heard the words in my mind as well as normally—and then I felt the oddest sensation. It was as if I knew that even if I wanted to tell anyone of Dylan’s ability, I wouldn’t be able to. The information was locked in my mind.

“What, what did you just…?” I asked, suddenly feeling panicked.

“I’m sorry,” he shrugged, not looking at all repentant. “I put a suggestion into your mind.”

“A suggestion? What does that mean?”

“Well, although it’s called a suggestion, it’s really a command. Now, even if you try to tell someone about my ability, you won’t be able to.”

I nodded. “Yes, I can feel that. Can you remove it?”

“I can. But I don’t want to.”

I opened my mouth, so angry I barely speak. “What? What do you mean, you don’t
want
to? You can’t just go around putting locks in people’s minds! That’s not right.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s necessary to do that. It ensures that others don’t give away your secrets. I don’t do it often, I assure you.”

“But you should never do it. It’s wrong.”

“It’s necessary.”

“No. It’s never necessary to impose your will on a person in this way.” I was beginning to panic. The magic Dylan had put into my mind was snaking itself down, slowly winding its way around my throat, choking me.

Closing my eyes, I forced myself to calm down. Taking a few deep breaths, I slowed my rapidly beating heart. And then I attacked my problem—this “suggestion” that Dylan had put into my mind. It was like a lock, but like a lock it could be pried open. I did just that, prying the suggestion out of my mind. The lock burst, and in the same shot of energy I projected into Dylan’s mind, “
You will never do that to me again!”

Dylan’s mouth dropped open, but I didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. I spun around and returned to Sir Dagonet, who sat facing the river a short distance away.

Still furious, I took my bag from where it was strapped to his horse and threw it onto the ground next to where he was sitting.

Sir Dagonet jumped. “Hobnobbit! I lost it.”

“Lost what?” I asked, dropping down onto the ground next to my bag.

“The fish. I had nearly lured it onto my hook and now it’s gone.”

“Oh.” I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs.

Sir Dagonet narrowed his eyes at me. “I say, something’s wrong. You’re strung tighter than a string on a long bow. What is it that’s got you ready to snap?”

I tried not to smile at Sir Dagonet’s colorful analogy. I glanced behind me to see if Dylan was there. He wasn’t, so I told the knight all that had just passed. I noted with satisfaction that his eyebrows went up a notch when I told him about the “suggestion” Dylan had put into my mind. They went up another notch when I told him that I had broken it.

What I didn’t see was Dylan coming up behind me while I talked. I only realized that he was there when Sir Dagonet looked up and said, “Why didn’t you want Scai to tell anyone that you’d helped that woman?”

I twisted around and looked up into Dylan’s scowling face.

“Because knights aren’t supposed to make people
feel
better. I’m sure you know that,” he replied, biting out his words in his anger.