Air: Merlin's Chalice (The Children of Avalon Book 1) (3 page)

Aron was hammering away at a horseshoe when I ran into the large empty yard by the river. At twenty–two, only two years older than me, he was the youngest blacksmith the town had ever had. If it hadn’t been for Hugh’s accident the previous week, he would still be an apprentice. Now, he had all of the town’s work to deal with on his own.

I stopped a few yards away from where he stood behind a huge anvil in front of the river. Although I was panting and crying, I knew to keep my distance from where Aron was working. The smoldering fire by his side belched out heat—I could feel the intensity of it even at a distance. As I stopped, he looked up, his hammer paused mid–air.

The hot iron screamed as it was dropped unceremoniously into the pail of water, and within moments I was enveloped in Aron’s hot, comforting arms. The worn leather apron he wore was soft against my cheek as I sobbed into his chest.

“Hush. Hush, now.” He soothed me, just as he had when we were little and I would come running to him when the other children had taunted and teased me. I couldn’t imagine not having Aron in my life to comfort and protect me.

The memory of my dream tugged at me. Warm arms of comfort; a strong, bare chest under my cheek; and a hot kiss turning me into a breath of want and need. The memory of it teased me. It hadn’t been Aron in my dream. I’d only kissed him once, and that had felt strange and awkward. Who was it, then? I couldn’t remember. I supposed it didn’t really matter now. It was just a dream.

My sobs dissolved into soft hiccups as Aron’s comfort settled into me. Now that I was with someone I could trust, it would be all right.

“Come inside,” he said, taking my hand and guiding me into the barn where he both worked and lived.

Aron rested his hip against his worktable as I hoisted myself up onto it. I took my time, knowing he would wait patiently until I had calmed down enough to tell him everything.

It was much cooler in here, away from the warmth of the late morning sun and the blacksmith’s fire. I brushed back strands of my blond hair, so fine they stuck to my face with my drying tears, and concentrated on forming the words in my head that would not sound too stupid or melodramatic. But before I could even complete the thought, the words were out of my mouth, tumbling over themselves like leaves caught in the breeze.

“All of the townspeople think I’m a witch because I know what people are thinking. I know what they’ve done or haven’t done and what they mean to say but don’t. Father even thinks I made the sun come out this morning, although he didn’t say so. We all prayed for the rain to stop, he himself said we did, but…”

“Hey! Stop.” Aron laughed.

My words stopped short. I took a breath and looked up at him. The smile on his face faded as my words settled into him. Grasping my shoulders, he looked me straight in the eye. “Everyone in town thinks you’re a witch?”

The disbelief in his voice mirrored my own exactly, and an air of relief blew through me. I knew he would feel this way. I could always count on Aron.

“I know. It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” I said, beginning to feel better already.

But Aron was no longer laughing, not even a smile graced his handsome face. He was staring at me as if he was really considering whether it could be true.

“Aron!”

“No, Scai, I’m thinking about this.” He let go of me and stood back, staring down at the floor for a minute. He began nodding his head. “Yes. It does make sense.”

“Aron! No.” How could he betray me this way?

“But, Scai, wait. You have to admit that you always know things that others don’t. Haven’t you ever wondered about it?”

“I’m intuitive,” I said, with a lift of my chin.

He shook his head. “No one is
that
intuitive. Do you hear people’s voices in your head? Can you read their thoughts? How do you do it?”

I widened my eyes. He really believed that I was a witch! “No. I don’t.” But then I saw that Aron wasn’t looking at me as if he were scared. He looked…well, he looked interested, even curious.

Aron was my friend. He was my
best
friend. Could I not be completely open with him, even if I had never been so with myself?

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the first time I’d been aware that I knew what others were thinking. It had been so long ago I didn’t think I could remember. But then a hazy scene flitted through my mind… playing on the village green, the other children moving away from me when I said aloud what each one was thinking. They wouldn’t play with me after that.

I had sworn to myself right then that I would only use my gift to help people—and I had. But no one seemed to remember that now. They only remembered that I was odd and knew things that I shouldn’t.

So how
did
I know what someone was thinking? I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know; I see it in their eyes. I just look at them and there it is: whatever they’re thinking is in my own mind.”

“Do you know what I’m thinking right now?”

I looked up at Aron. A lock of his long brown hair had fallen into his eyes, but they stayed focused on me. “You’re…you’re fascinated with how I know what someone is thinking. And you wish you could do the same thing. And you need your hair cut.”

Aron burst out laughing. “I was not thinking that I needed my hair cut!”

I grinned. I couldn’t believe it, but I actually smiled. “No, you weren’t thinking that, but you do.”

He laughed as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. “But this is incredible, Scai.” He lowered his voice and leaned toward me to whisper, “You’re a witch!” As if it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

And for a minute, I thought it was, too—until reality caught up to me. Then all the good feelings I had been sharing with Aron blew straight out of me.

“No! I’m intuitive. I see what people are thinking, that’s all. It doesn’t mean I’m a witch.”

“Scai…”

“No. Aron, this is ridiculous.”

He shook his head. “Why don’t you want to believe this?”

“Because it’s wrong.”

“Scai…”

“It’s wrong, and ridiculous, and…” I blinked away the tears burning in my eyes. How could he? How could he betray me like this? Aron was supposed to laugh at this with me, not take it seriously.
I wasn’t a witch!

“…and it’s dangerous and frightening,” I finished in a whisper. “Witches are the spawn of the devil. That’s what Father Llewellyn taught us, and I believe it.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you…”

“Oh, no? How do you know?”

“What? You are not the spawn—”

“I don’t know what I am. Father Llewellyn found me on the church steps.” I jumped down from the table, coming close to landing on Aron’s foot, but I didn’t care. I wanted to hurt him for even thinking that Margaret and Dafydd might be right.

“I don’t know who my parents were. All I do know is that I am not a witch,” I whispered furiously, before running out of the shed and heading back to the rectory.

Chapter Five

F
ather?” I called as I entered the house. I looked in the drawing room, but it was empty. With a shiver of apprehension, I left the room.

The town had seemed empty on my way back from speaking with Aron. It had been very strange. Usually there was
someone
about. But now there was no one. It was as if they had all gone to hide from me.

And now Father was gone, too. Dafydd and the others hadn’t hurt him, had they? I raced through the house, searching, my heart pounding with the sharp stab of fear.

I found my guardian sitting in his study at the back of the house. Relief sent me flying to him. I threw myself at his feet and clutched onto his legs just as I used to do when I was a little girl.

I had spent too many afternoons like this after being teased by the other children for being different, or because my parents hadn’t wanted me. Aron had always tried to defend me and had ended up in too many fights because of me. But Father had taught me to turn the other cheek, and so I had always ended up here.

And now, just as he had always done, Father Llewellyn gently stroked my head and murmured words of comfort. When the fear loosened itself from my throat, I whispered, “Father, you don’t think…”

“No, I don’t think, Scai,” he began, and relief rushed through me until he added, “I
know
.”

My heart clenched in my chest. “But…”

“No. Hush, my child, hush. I am sorry I’ve never said anything, but I’ve known since you were a little girl and able to repeat what was in anyone’s mind—even when you clearly didn’t understand what it was you were saying.”

He gave a little laugh as he remembered. “You were such a funny child. But I could protect you then.” He grew sober once again. “I don’t know that I can anymore.”

Gently, he disengaged my hands from around his legs and dropped down onto his knees in front of me. Holding my hands between his, he said, “Let us pray for God’s mercy, child. Let us pray for your safety.”

I bowed my head and prayed with all my might. We sat, each lost in our own prayers, until the old priest began to recite the Lord’s Prayer. His deep somber voice and the familiar sounds were soothing, even though I couldn’t understand the Latin words.

“Amen,” I repeated after him. I was shocked to see Father’s eyes wet with tears.

<><><>

“Scai. Scai, wake up, my dear.” The voice nagged at me. My shoulder was gently being shaken. “Scai, now! You need to be gone.” The words were spoken in such a terrified whisper, I dragged my eyelids open.

Father Llewellyn was kneeling next to me on the floor. My bed had still been damp the previous evening, so I’d slept on the floor where it was dry.

Worry creased the old priest’s forehead. He turned and looked over his shoulder, as if he expected someone to come through my bedroom door.

“What is it, Father?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbows.

“You must go. Now. They’ll be here any minute.”

“Who will?”

“The townspeople. Margaret, Dafydd, even old Tomos. I think they must have been up all night. They’ve built a bonfire in the middle of the square.”

“For me?” The words were little more than a squeak—I had no voice, no breath. Sudden terror had knocked it clear of my lungs.

Father nodded, his face a terrifying blank mask.

I was up in a moment, pulling clothing out of my wardrobe with only one thought in mind—run! Father handed me a bag.

“There’s bread, cheese, and a skin of water in this.”

I shoved a shift, a dress, and my shawl on the top and then tossed another dress on over my head. Father laced me up faster than I could have done with my trembling fingers.

“Are you packed and ready?” I asked, as he worked.

He paused, looking at me with some confusion in his eyes. “I’m not going with you. You’ll have to go on your own, I’m afraid.”

“But I can’t leave you here. What if they turn on you?” I asked.

He just gave me a little smile. “They won’t. I’m a man of God. Besides, I’m old. I would only slow you down.”

I didn’t know what to say. I prayed he was right. With a breath, I had an idea. “I’ll go to England. Perhaps I can find my parents.”

A smile lit up Father Llewellyn’s face. “Yes! Brilliant. That is what I will tell them when they come looking for you.”

I nodded, knowing this was right. “And it is what I will do.”

<><><>

The sun still hadn’t risen when I slipped into the blacksmith’s shop to wake Aron. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

He protested my calls of his name in his sleep and tried to bat me away with a wave of his hand, burrowing deeper into the straw that made up his bed in one corner of the shed.

“Aron. Aron,” I whispered.

With a start he was up, nearly hitting my head with his own as he bolted upright. I backed up. “I’m leaving. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

He blinked uncomprehendingly at me for a minute then gasped, as if he remembered what was going on. “What? Where?”

I tried not to laugh at his momentary confusion, while I was sure that on the inside my heart was breaking. I’d never had to do something so difficult as say goodbye to the two people I loved the most.

Father Llewellyn had seen me off, crying so hard that I hoped never to see a man weep as he had. And now, it was I who was about to embarrass myself with my tears. I blinked them away and forced myself to stay positive. This was a wonderful opportunity.

“I’m going to England. We’ve always known this day would come.” I gave a little shrug and tried for a smile. “I had hoped it wouldn’t be so soon, but the townspeople have built a bonfire for me… this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for to go and try to find my family.”

Aron’s eyes widened in shock before he shook his head in wonder. “How do you always turn everything around to see the positive? You’re amazing, Scai!”

I swallowed at the lump in my throat and forced out a little laugh.

But Aron turned serious. He reached out and grasped my arm as if he wasn’t going to let me go. “Are you going to be all right? England is very far away.”

I put my hand over his. “I know. But what choice do I have?”

He couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

I moved my hand to his cheek, rough with beard. I did my best to put a reassuring smile on my face. It might have been a feeble attempt, but at least my tears were staying hidden within my heart.

Aron sighed. “There are thieves, Scai. In the forest. I’ve heard tales of them. They’re ruthless and don’t think twice about killing those who trespass through their territory. Perhaps I should come with you.”

I had to keep myself from laughing. How very typical of Aron to want to protect me. “No. You are needed here. There is no other blacksmith now that Hugh has died. And besides, I’ll be fine.” I gave his shoulder a loving squeeze. “I’ll be as careful as I can and avoid anyone who doesn’t seem to be friendly.”

Aron didn’t seem to be entirely satisfied with this but accepted it as truly the only option. “At least you can use your mind–reading skills to tell if someone means you harm.”