Air: Merlin's Chalice (The Children of Avalon Book 1) (27 page)

I piled another handful of dirt onto our campfire. “He left,” I said simply, while trying to ignore the ache that still lingered in my stomach from last night after my anger had blown away.

“Left? What’s that you say?” Sir Dagonet joined us from the woods, now fully dressed and ready to go.

I looked from Sir Dagonet to Bridget again. “He left. Last night. He said that he needed to seek out the chalice on his own.”

“He’s going to search for the chalice alone? Without us?” Bridget said, letting a bag drop to the ground and advancing toward me.

I stood up. “Yes. He said he’d come back if he needed us.” I could hear the monotone in my voice, the hurt and the remnants of my anger. I didn’t have the energy to even try to hide it.

“Oh, he did, did he?” Bridget exclaimed, putting one hand on her hip. “So he thinks he can just go off on his own to find the chalice, and then if he
needs
us we will just accept him back, just like that. I’ll tell you what…”

“Now, Bridget…” Sir Dagonet began.

“No! No, that’s just not right. We’re supposed to be finding this chalice together—that’s what the prophecy said, didn’t it? So what does he think he’s doing?” She turned to Sir Dagonet. “If he finds it, can he wield it on his own?”

Sir Dagonet’s eyes widened. “I, er, don’t really know now, do I? But I shouldn’t think…well, the prophecy does say that it needs the three of you…”

“The three of us to find it, but one alone will wield it,” she corrected him.

“One with the power of three.” He turned around and corrected her.

“Yes. One with the power of three. So unless he has…” She paused and turned toward a few sticks lying on the ground next to me.

I jumped when they burst into flames. “Bridget! You almost caught my dress!”

“Sorry. I was just checking.” She held her open palm toward the flames and closed her hand as if capturing something inside of it. The flames disappeared, leaving the smoking remnants of the fire that had been there a moment ago.

“Checking what?” Sir Dagonet asked.

“My powers. Dylan didn’t steal them while I was sleeping.”

“What? Of course not,” Sir Dagonet scoffed.

“Bridget! How could you even suggest he would do such a thing? He’s stupid, but he’s not cruel,” I scolded her.

“Well, he needs the power of three to wield the chalice,” Bridget explained.

“He is not going to wield the chalice. Clearly, he can’t. But he does feel it is his right, as Merlin’s only descendent, to find the chalice first.” Somehow I just couldn’t bring myself to even look at Bridget as I gave Dylan’s reasoning. I could feel Bridget’s burning gaze on me, however, and looked up.

She crossed her arms in front of her but said nothing.

“Bridget, just let it go,” I said, finally letting my exasperation get the better of me. “He’ll rejoin us soon enough.”

“Yes, because he won’t be able to do anything without us,” my sister retorted, stooping down to pick up the bag she had dropped.

“Right. So what’s wrong with him going out on his own for a bit, wot, wot?” Sir Dagonet said with forced enthusiasm. “A young man’s got to stretch himself a little, perfectly natural, don’t you know? Can’t always be tied down to the ladies.”

It wasn’t a pretty look that Bridget gave Sir Dagonet, but she didn’t say anything more.

<><><>

“It’s my fault,” I said.

We’d been riding all morning in silence, Sir Dagonet alone on his horse, Bridget and me on Dylan’s. Bridget had been brooding and angry the whole time. I could practically feel the constant burning of her thoughts, sometimes burning higher, sometimes sputtering. My own mind had been whirling around as well, and now I was certain that what I’d been thinking was right. It was my conscience which forced me to speak out.

“What?” Bridget asked.

“It’s my fault Dylan left,” I said again, but quietly so that Sir Dagonet would not hear.

“Why do you say that? He left because he’s a jerk, thinking that only he is entitled to the chalice.” Bridget’s words were so full of venom I was surprised I didn’t see any flames spring to life anywhere.

“That’s what he said, what he told me. But I’ve been thinking that maybe it was something else.” I paused. “Me.”

Bridget tilted her head sideways to get a better look at me from behind. “What did you do?” Her words were not accusing. They weren’t even harsh as perhaps they should have been. They were simply open and questioning.

I took a deep breath. “Dylan and I were, um, intimate last night.” That was a lot harder to admit than I’d anticipated.

I could feel Bridget pull away from me. “Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

“You… and Dylan?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Bridget sounded so incredulous I had to laugh.

“Why? Why not? He’s handsome, and sweet, and strong.”

Bridget was silent for a moment. “I suppose.” She sounded very unsure. She gave a little shiver and violent shake of her head. “No. No. Sorry, I just can’t see him that way. He’s annoying and full of himself.”

“No, he’s not. He does think he’s right more often than not…”

“All the time,” Bridget interrupted.

“All right, frequently,” I admitted. “But he
is
right a lot of time. He’s got more experience than…”

“Not more than me,” Bridget protested before I could even finish my sentence.

“Well, more than me. And he knows much more about this chalice than either of us do.”

Bridget just harumphed.

“But that’s not the point,” I said, bringing the conversation back to where I had started. “The point is that… that I’m thinking he might be feeling uncomfortable around me now. I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t like what we did, or he’s worried that I’ll feel… I don’t know, too attached to him or something.” There was silence behind me. “I don’t know. I just feel that this is my fault. I shouldn’t have done… anything with him.”

“Did you like it?” Bridget asked quietly.

“What? Yes.”

“
Are
you feeling more attached to him?”

I thought about it for a moment. I really didn’t know how I felt about him, aside from the fact that I really liked him. But I’d liked him before we’d become intimate. I didn’t think I liked him any more afterward, and I certainly wasn’t feeling particularly favorable toward him just now.

“No. It was a moment, Bridget. That was all.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Absolutely sure. I liked him before it happened. I liked him just as much afterward. And right now I’m so angry at him for abandoning us that I could… could… I don’t know do something to hurt him because he hurt me. He hurt us. He had no right to just leave like that.”

Bridget laughed, making me try to turn around to face her, but being on a horse made that a little difficult.

“I’m sorry. You’re just really funny when you’re angry.” She became serious again. “But you are right. He had no cause to leave us, and if we run into him again I’m going to do more than just something. I’m going to set fire to his toes.”

Chapter Thirty Six

I
burst out laughing. “He didn’t do that!”

Bridget’s shoulders were shaking with her own laughter. “He did. You wouldn’t believe the stupid things boys will do.”

“No, I wouldn’t. My friend Aron would never have done anything that dumb.”

“No? Well, then I’ve got to meet this paragon, because I could tell you so many more stories of my br…of
our
brothers, you just wouldn’t believe.”

I shook my head in disbelief then started laughing again.

Bridget reached out and grabbed my arm, stilling my hand from piling up more sticks onto the campfire. “Scai, I—I just want you to know I’m really happy you’re my sister.”

I looked into Bridget’s eyes. She had become serious, even though her smile still covered her face.

Sir Dagonet had gone off to see if he could hunt down a rabbit or some other animal for us to eat, leaving us alone for the first time. I loved having the time to get to know my sister. It was magical to hear the stories of her childhood, growing up with five brothers.

I dropped the sticks in my other hand and took hold of Bridget’s. “I know
just
how you feel.”

Bridget gave me a quick squeeze and let go.

“It’s just so funny,” I began, picking up the sticks again. “We’re so different and we’ve been raised so differently, and yet…I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt to anyone. I almost feel as if I’ve known you my whole life.”

“I know. I’ve felt that way since the moment you walked into Sir Dagonet’s room at the inn in Gloucester.”

“Yes!”

Bridget magically pulled a medium sized branch down from a nearby tree. “Do you always do things with magic?” I asked.

With care, Bridget brought the branch to the ground. “Yes. When it’s practical. Don’t you?”

I just laughed. Bridget realized what she had said and started to laugh as well. “I suppose not,” she said, answering her own question.

“No,” I said, still giggling. “But perhaps I’ll learn.” I wondered if Bridget would offer to teach me. I had figured out how to do a lot of things on my own, and I had also learned a bit from Sir Dagonet. Dylan had taught me some magic as well, although now that he was gone…

I was just wondering what everyday things I could do with magic when I heard a sound coming from the trees behind me. “Sir Dagonet must be…”

Bridget screamed, and then something hit me in the head and the world went black.

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When I came to, I wished that I hadn’t.

Even before I opened my eyes, I knew that everything was wrong—there was too much noise, I had a pounding headache, and I couldn’t move my arms even though they were hurting terribly. Only after my mind slowly took in all of these sensations, and processed them in a vague and muddled way did my eyes fly open.

I immediately closed them again.

This was a dream. It had to be a dream. A horrible, terrible, awful…but no, my head hurt too much for this to be a dream. I opened my eyes again.

This wasn’t a dream—it was a living nightmare.

I looked out at a sizeable crowd of people, all staring up at me. A glance down confirmed my greatest fear—I was standing on a pile of firewood. And yes, the reason I couldn’t move, the reason why my arms and wrists hurt so badly, was because I was tied to a stake.

I was going to be burned as a witch!

In my panic, I struggled against the bonds that held me in place. I wriggled and twisted trying to get free. All I managed to do, however, was hurt my wrists even more against the very tight, knotted ropes that held them.

I couldn’t breathe. Air, my precious air, deserted me. My throat closed up as sobs grew heavy in my chest. Tears slipped down my cheeks, but I could do nothing to stop them.

“Aye, that’s right witch, cry, for you will burn in hell this evening!” a man yelled out from the crowd.

I looked up. They were all watching me, laughing. I pressed my lips together and held my breath. I
would not
cry in front of these people. Don’t give them the satisfaction, I scolded myself.

Bridget. I had been with Bridget when I’d been captured. So where…?

She was there, to my right, tied to an identical stake on another pile of wood just next to me. “Bridget!” I shouted, still squirming even though I knew it wasn’t going to do any good. My sister was still unconscious. “Oh, God, Bridget, wake up!”

“Ah, well, at least one of them is awake. That is so much more gratifying,” a man said, approaching the bonfire. He looked to be a nobleman, dressed in a fine dark blue tunic with gold embroidery at the neck and hem.

“Please, please, sir, let us go!” I called out, desperation weighing down my words. This was my one chance. Perhaps, just perhaps, I could convince him to release us. “We have done nothing wrong!”

The man threw back his head with laughter. The crowd around us had grown and they too chuckled as if I had made a joke. They were there to be entertained.

“She has done nothing wrong!” the nobleman called out, baiting the crowd. “Tell me, girl, do you proclaim yourself to be a good God–fearing person?”

“I do! I am!” I cried, trying once again to pull my hands free. My wrists burned with the repeated scraping and twisting of the ropes, but I had to get free, I had to. I couldn’t let myself be burned at the stake!

“And what do you say to the charge of witchcraft, girl? My men say they saw you and your friend beside you engaging in the worst sort before they captured you.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what they’d seen. I stopped struggling. “I am not a witch!” I’m Vallen, I added silently to myself. But they wouldn’t know what a Vallen was. They wouldn’t know the difference. Those who captured us must have seen Bridget use her magic. Naturally, they thought her a witch. “I know no potions or spells.”

“You lie!”

“No! It is the God’s honest truth.”

A knight next to the nobleman turned to the crowd. “I saw her with my own eyes,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear him clearly. “I saw her and the other one move sticks without touching them with their hands. They are witches!”

The crowd gasped, thoroughly enjoying the show.

“What say you to this charge?” the nobleman demanded.

I swallowed. I didn’t know what to say. He was right: we had moved sticks without touching them.

“There you have it! Her very silence is her admission of guilt,” the nobleman called out to the crowd, which responded at once with cheers and jeers. Curses were lobbed at me, as were rotten fruit and vegetables.

I ducked my head and tried to think. There had to be some way to get out of this. My only hope was Sir Dagonet. Dylan was long gone—probably miles away by now. No, it had to be Sir Dagonet. But where was he?

I didn’t know how long I’d been unconscious. Could he have come back from his hunting by now? And if he had, would he even realize that we had been taken against our will? Would he think to look here in this town? I stopped and looked around. I didn’t even know where I was, how far I’d been taken from our camp. How could Sir Dagonet possibly know where to look?