Shades of Avalon (23 page)

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand the relevance.”

Guinevere turned to look at me, her amber eyes stern and knowing. “And I thought I asked you not to tell anyone about our little excursion?” She stepped back and released a resigned breath.

As if on cue, two small figures made their way toward us out of the shadows created by the cliff—Amanda and Emma. Emma carried her bow in her hand, and the feathery ends of her arrows poked up from the quiver strapped to her back.

Even in darkness, I had no problem catching the blush across Amanda’s cheeks as they approached. I noted Emma’s previously chin length hair, braided from the top of her head in the same style as Guinevere. It had to be fake. Red and amber streaks twisted through the black, and I wondered if Guinevere had gained a fan?

Amanda tucked herself into my side and wrapped an arm around my back. She fixed Guinevere with a surprisingly angry glare. “I’ve given you the benefit of doubt all this time. I’ve tried to be friendly, but please don’t misinterpret reserved judgment for weakness. Did you really think he would sneak off with you and not tell me?”

Guinevere smiled and Amanda’s nostrils flared. Her fingers tightened on my jacket. I kind of liked territorial Amanda. This wasn’t jealousy, this was her protective side coming out.

“Actually, I presumed he would tell you. I was surprised not to see you at the car.” Guinevere’s shoulders lifted and dropped casually. “You.” She swiveled to Emma, damp ground squelching under her boots. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

Emma shifted foot to foot, and she straightened her back. Her brown eyes flashed with defiance. “I saw Amanda leave the house. And don’t worry about me. I can protect myself this time.” Emma raised her chin at the end of the statement.

“So I see.” Guinevere eyed the bow with an expression of approval.

A sharp breeze cut across the open land, and I shivered. A deep sense of foreboding settled in my bones. Something about the area felt wrong, as though the air here weighed me down to the earth, pushing me into the ground. There was a profound history soaked into every molecule surrounding us, as though ghosts walked here.

“Okay,” I pushed, anxious to understand why she had brought us out here. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

Guinevere approached the water’s edge where the soil grew spongy beneath her feet. “Long ago, a battle took place near here known as the Battle of Camlann.”

“Arthur’s final battle,” Emma interjected eagerly. “The battle where Mordred killed him.”

Guinevere glanced over her shoulder and offered Emma a weak smile. “His final battle, yes. However, Arthur didn’t die that day.”

I opened my mouth to state she had allowed us to believe a different version of events, but Guinevere held her hand up to halt me.

“I didn’t lie as such. It was simply an omission of the full facts. Something you didn’t need to know, and a secret I needed to protect. You’ll allow me this since we all understand the weight of protecting those we love.”

The reprimand dissolved on my tongue. Amanda and I exchanged a fleeting look of understanding.

“Why tell the truth now?” Amanda asked. A distrustful glint sparked in her eyes.

Guinevere shifted a little and dipped her head forward. She drew Excalibur from the sheath at her side. The blade immediately burst to life, illuminating the area directly around us. Hopefully the residents of the farmhouse weren’t paying attention.

“The situation has changed, and I believe we will require some answers if we’re to prevent Zeal from becoming unstoppable.” She darted her eyes in the direction of Emma. “Merlin is…absent.”

Her assessment of Merlin was kinder than mine would have been. I quickly realized she didn’t want to say much because John had been blessed—or cursed—with a mythical Celtic, supernatural ability in the way Arthur had been.

“So what did happen to Arthur?” I asked.

Guinevere frowned harshly. “The battle happened just as I said.” Sharp bitterness laced her tone. “I took him from the battle. He never would have left willingly, but he was unconscious by then and on the edge of death. I brought him here and begged for his life from the gatekeepers to the Otherworld. They refused, but offered me an alternative. I became the Keeper again so Arthur could take my place among the departed in Avalon—Tír na nÓg.”

“So he isn’t dead?” Emma said.

Guinevere knelt on one knee on the grass, paying no heed to the mud on her jeans. Very carefully, she placed the tip of the blade in the water. “No.”

Unsure of what was about to happen, I stepped back and brought Amanda with me.

Water rippled outward from the blade in a familiar pattern. She was opening a portal.

Emma edged nearer. She held her bow across the front of her hips, slipping an arrow from over her shoulder. In a well-practiced move, she nocked the arrow and partially drew back the string, keeping the business end aimed at the grass for now.

Guinevere held fast by the water, her eyes closed in concentration, whispering words I couldn’t understand but recognized as Gaelic.

Bubbles popped to the surface where the blade touched water before going still as glass once more. Guinevere withdrew Excalibur, and beads of lake water dribbled from the tip.

“Is that it?” I said, exasperated. “We came out in the middle of the night for bubbles?”

“Wait,” Guinevere murmured and slid the Excalibur home in its scabbard.

I took a step forward and a ten-foot-high gush of black water erupted, spilling over like a volcano. I staggered backward, shielding both Amanda and Emma. Emma struggled to break free, raising her bow. The point of an arrow snagged my shoulder accompanied by the sound of ripping fabric.

“What the hell is that?” Amanda demanded, her voice an octave higher than usual.

The water cascaded into the lake, forming a rippling pillar, sparkling like black diamonds and reflecting a multitude of shimmering lights, although there was no source I could see.

“Why do you summon us to this place for a second time, young warrior?” Many voices whispered at once, making a sound resembling tinkling bells.

Guinevere stood resolute. “I demand answers.”

Laughter rang out from a chorus of voices.

“Guinevere,” I growled. “What is this?”

Her guarded eyes flickered in our direction, her jaw set. Intense anger radiated from her, and her fingers tightened to fists by her side. “This is the Fáidh. Once they were the priests and priestesses of Danu. Now they are nothing more than guard dogs to the Otherworld, meddling in the lives of the living for sport.”

The pillar vibrated and shimmered. “Have care, young warrior.”

“Creepy level ten,” Emma muttered under her breath.

“Why did you take him from me?”

“To protect humans from the Riastradh,” the chorus responded without emotion. “You come before us this night with equal purpose. The children of Danu once more seek to possess its power.”

“No,” Guinevere argued. “Only one and we will end Zeal. Have you seen the future? Do you know what will happen?”

The water shook and memories of my family from the alternate future sprang to mind with an accompanying dull ache of sorrow. How could we know the Fáidh would tell us the truth or expose us to the impossible? For a moment the pillar swayed over the water, and I thought it might disappear before we learned anything. Instinct kicked in, and my foot moved without conscious decision. Guinevere’s hand shot up, warning me to hold fast. It took all the restraint I could muster. A growl rumbled in my chest despite knowing the column of water would take offense.
There’s something I never thought I’d think.

This entire trip was more high fantasy than reality at this point. Nothing I was prepared for when I awakened as a Guardian. I had seen myself more as Clark Kent, living a relatively normal life and saving the world with my superpowers on my days off work. I felt more like a character straight out of the pages of
The Lord of the Rings
at this point.

After several tense moments, the pillar settled. “A choice twisted the path you walk until it broke. The fate of the one who carries the burden of the Riastradh is undecided.”

“So who’s that?” Emma whispered faintly, leaning her head toward us.

Amanda looked up to me and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Blood pounded in my ears.
More secrets.
Emma was just a kid, and John was her only family. I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Her lips flattened into a line, and she focused her attention back to the scene playing out before us.

“Did my parents know this would happen?” I demanded.

Water danced over the surface of the lake, as though a thousand eyes turned toward me. Pins and needles crawled over my flesh.

“They could not have predicted your journey would alter in this manner. They held suspicion and cautioned you of difficult choices.”

I wracked my brain. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember any warnings, but of course we weren’t meant to remember our time there. What use was a warning with no recollection of it?

“My angels.” The voice slithered out from the pillar unlike the others. Instead of a chorus, this voice was singular but with a faint metallic twang behind it that made my ears itch. The voice was unmistakably that of my mother. Logically I knew I shouldn’t recognize the soft lilt, but I did. I knew it as though I’d been listening to it my whole life.

“Mom,” I uttered feebly. A habitual guilt and longing accompanied the word and replaced any lingering frustration and wariness of the Fáidh. My parents were gone before I turned six, and my memories of them were like well-worn photographs, blanched and dog-eared at the edges, faded everywhere else. I recalled tossing a ball with my father and my mother reading to me as I tucked myself under her arm at bedtime. Perhaps that’s why I still instantly recognized her voice after all this time.

I considered Lewis and Carmel my parents. They raised me, and they were there though the cut knees, report cards, and graduations. We shared the holidays, and they made a home for Triona and me. Regardless, hearing my mother’s voice transported me back to before all that.

“You have grown into a fine man, a brave man,” my dad’s voice said with undiluted pride.

I didn’t trust my own ears and shook my head to rid myself of the illusion.

“What is it? What do you hear?” Amanda asked with a worried scowl. She placed her small hand on my arm, her eyes moving quickly over my face.

“You don’t hear that?”

“Hear what?” Her face scrunched up in confusion.

I looked to Guinevere and Emma for any sign they heard the voices. Both watched me with an air of careful reticence.

Without further warning and as gentle as parting clouds, a hidden memory revealed itself. It wasn’t complete, more like snapshots flickering past out of sequence.

The place was similar to Tara, with its ancient mounds and embankments spread out over an open field—echoes of past structures placed there by my ancestors. The sky was too blue and the sun too bright to have streaks of pink, orange, and purple over the horizon. The lush grass was so green I had to look away. Birds swept through the still, clean air in graceful arches over a gathered crowd, wearing costumes that placed them at every moment through history.

Amanda stood close to my side, along with Triona and Caleb, looking like a younger version of his father.

A tall, slim woman moved gracefully toward us, accompanied by a man with his arm clenched protectively around her waist.

Her long, dark red hair gleamed and reflected light as though dusted with gold or copper. Her dark pink lips widened to a smile, accentuating the gentle blush of pink over her smooth tanned skin. Her emerald eyes glistened. I darted a glance to Triona and caught her wiping a stray tear from her cheek. As much as Caleb resembled his father, I saw our mother in Triona…until she smiled.

When Triona emitted a sound somewhere between laughter and crying, I saw more than a hint of the man standing before us. He was tall too, but less regal in his posture and wearing a checked work shirt the same as Uncle Lewis wore. His shaggy brown hair settled across his forehead falling into his green-brown eyes, just the way mine did.

These people were my parents, yet I had to swallow a thick desire to grab Amanda and flee. I coughed and gulped in a lungful of fresh air. Despite my clear head, only moments before agony had gripped me and threatened to rip my soul to shreds. I wouldn’t allow them to keep her from me, and I didn’t intend to leave her behind. I had to remind myself these people gave their lives to protect us. They loved us, and they weren’t a danger.

“You have been through so much.” My mother released a sad sigh, looking to me and then Triona. “So much has been expected of you that you never asked for.”

“You are soul mates,” my father picked up where my mother left off. “Separate parts of a whole. You are to be rewarded for what you have done and what you will do. That’s what we brought you here for.” He directed this to all of us before narrowing his attention to Triona and me. “You will spend your life with your soul mate. Your whole life.”

My heart pounded heavily, and a sudden burst of intense relief caught in my throat.