The Last Day of Avalon Read online

labhairt liom,” he commanded. Bright, white light surged through the cracks between his fingers, then faded into non-existence. He concluded that the spell was good. It was just not working. His mother was right. Melador must be too close to the mountain.

  Bowing his head just a little, he conceded, “I’ll go get him.”

  Brisen did not need to rub it in. Aeduuard knew what she was thinking. Her eyes sparkled just a little with amusement. A slight lift of her chin acknowledged the concession and she answered, “Eigyr will tend the fishes.”

  It was a warm spring day and Aeduuard was glad to go for a last walk around his boyhood home. Breathing deeply, he savored the sweet scent of flowers. The island’s faeries already gone to the nearby islands of Scillei, those flowers appeared …empty. But they still smelled sweet and butterflies still flitted between their blooms. Aeduuard wondered if his new home would be as beautiful. He doubted its possibility.

  It was a short walk from home to the temple steps. A high priest, his father needed to live close to them. As Aeduuard had anticipated, Melador was nowhere to be seen near the stone staircase. He called out just to be sure. There was no response. This was not a surprise. He continued on the path around the mountain.

  Lush woods on one side, jagged rock on the other. The path followed closely to the mountain’s contour. Aeduuard was almost to the Oceanside cliff when it split. One path continued hugging the mountain and the other sloped slightly downward through brush and trees. Aeduuard took the second path whereas he should have taken the first.

  It was a very short walk to shore now, much shorter than it had been when he was younger, but he knew the way well. Many lads did. On warm summer days, the sons of priests and priestesses would congregate here to fish.

  It was the perfect fishing hole: a little niche in the shoreline with the mountain on one side. Originally a mountainside cliff, the water here was instantly deep. Cleared of brush so the boys had space to build campfires. It would have been a nice spot for mermaids to sun themselves except for the presence of so many children.

  Plenty of small boulders lay around to slide close to the water’s edge for makeshift chairs. On a day like today, even this late in the morning, a handful of boys with strings dangling into the water would usually be sitting there. They would chatter in whispers so as not to disturb the fish, but they would rarely make a catch because their cumulative whispers were quite loud. This morning though, the fishing hole was completely silent. The boulders were empty. Nobody was there, not even Melador.

  Aeduuard put his hand to his chin, pondering where his brother might be. He knew that, this close to departure, returning home without Melador was not an option. Mother would have a fit of anxiety, and that would not be good for anyone.

  He was just contemplating climbing the stone staircase for magical assistance when he heard a female voice through the quiet. “Come, little one. Don’t be afraid,” the distant voice cooed.

  Aeduuard called out, “Hello! Is somebody there?”

  The speaker ignored him but her voice became louder and sounded more urgent. Its sweet melody now slightly sharp, it pleaded, “Come now. Let me help you.”

  The strange female voice was followed by one that was very familiar. “Aeduuard? Is that you?” it called back.

  “Melador!” Aeduuard exclaimed, relief washing through him. Following the sound of Melador’s voice, his eyes riveted toward the mountain. He scanned the small stretch of shore until it reached the path he should have taken. It ran between mountain and cliff before it disappeared into water. A few yards later, the path rose just above the water again and continued to the mine entrance. There in the entrance stood his brother’s slim, red-topped form, fishing pole in hand.

  SPLASH_____ Aeduuard’s eyes drew quickly away from the mine entrance toward the noise. As it slipped into the deep, he glimpsed the bottom part of a large fin. His eyes grew round with alarm as he realized that a mermaid had been trying to beguile his little brother.

  “Stay there! I’ll be right around. …Wait away from the edge,” he called out to his brother.

  He watched as Melador took a few steps backward into the mine, then he turned and sprinted back up the path to get to the mine’s entrance. The very last thing he needed today was to have to tell his mother that Melador was drowned by a mermaid.

  The mermaid did not reemerge before he got to the water-covered path, but he stood back from the water’s edge anyway. There was no sense in taking unnecessary risks.

  “What were you thinking?” he demanded of his brother. “You know better than to talk to mer-folk!”

  “Well…” Melador answered, “I guess I was thinking I am stuck and I need to get my fishing pole from here,” he pointed to the ground before his feet, “to there,” he pointed to the path on Aeduuard’s side of the water.

  Aeduuard put his hand to his forehead with a soft slap. He hated when Melador stated the obvious. “That’s not what I mean.” He clarified, “What were you thinking talking to a mermaid? You know they will pull you under water and drown you! Do you really want a drowned child to be Mother’s last memory of Avalon?”

  Not waiting for the answer to his question, he looked at the path. The section between them was completely submerged. It was impossible to wade across. Without the use of magic, crossing would be impossible.

  “How did you get over there, anyway? Did you swim?” he asked, looking at Melador’s clothing. The garments looked dry.

  “No, I walked.”

  This is Melador, my 13 year-old brother, thought Aeduuard as he exhaled frustration through his nose. He creates problems that he wants me to solve without giving me enough information.

  He persisted, “Did you walk on water? Spells don’t work near the mountain. How did you walk on water without a spell?”

  “I didn’t,” Melador shrugged his pre-pubescent shoulders. “I walked on the path when the tide was low. I was over here talking to the dwarves before they left and I forgot my fishing pole. I needed to get it before we leave. The tide started to come in while I was in the mine and I got stuck. I have been waiting here for somebody to find me for hours.”

  Aeduuard rolled his eyes. It had not been “hours.” He’d seen his brother at home less than two hours ago. But Melador, at 13 years old, was somewhat prone to exaggeration. He liked to make things bigger or smaller than they really were.

  “Only you would be so foolish as to go into the mine before high tide on moving day,” Aeduuard chastised. “You should have just left your pole. You can always make another. But how are we going to get you out of the mine in time to get to the ship? You might just have to become a high priest and live in the temple forever.”

  Melador grimaced. If he lived at the focus of the mountain’s magic, he would never age. He would be 13 forever and stuck in the quietest, most boring place in the world: the temple. He would not even be able to escape by becoming a dragon lord because the dragon lords only recruited fully grown young men.

  “This fishing pole is special,” he grumbled, but Aeduuard did not hear. The other side of the water was too far away for a grumble to travel and his older brother was steeped in thought, trying to figure a way to get Melador across the water without magic and without a boat.

  “Stay right there. I’m going for help,” Aeduuard instructed. He turned and took a step, then stopped to add a quick afterthought over his shoulder, “Do NOT talk to any mermaids.”

  Then he was gone, sprinting back along the path until he got to the stone staircase. Crossing his fingers that he would be forgiven for entering the sacred grounds uninvited, he sprinted up the steps, counting them as he went, “One… two… three…”

  Hewn by hands so ancient there was no written memory of them, the cut stone beneath his feet was a mastery of craftsmanship. Steep, even stairs of stone carved from the mountainside itself, they jutted out or cut into the mountain at will. How the ancient craftsman had been able to effect them without the use of magic or the laying o
f a single stone was a long unsolved mystery and Aeduuard found himself pondering it as he climbed.

  “Thirty six… thirty seven…” He had stopped sprinting about fifteen stairs ago and now his legs were getting sore. It occurred to him that his father must have very strong legs to climb the hundred fifty step staircase on a daily basis. By stair fifty three, Aeduuard could not help himself from stopping for a brief rest. He took a seat on a stair to rub his calves and thighs.

  SCREECH____ His head snapped up at a dragon’s squeal. His eyes darted to the sky in search of its source but a strong wind forced his eyelids closed. Air pressed against the flesh of his face, flattening cheeks to cheekbones. The wind was so strong he had to turn away from it to pull in shallow breath through his nostrils. Then it stopped as suddenly as it had started and breathing became easy again.

  A giant claw now clung to an outcropping of rock beside his head and Aeduuard swallowed hard. His eyes travelled up a scaled leg to a large shoulder, then a long throat. Holding back his instinct to scream, he considered the dragon’s agility. Almost vertical, the massive creature supported its weight on sheer rock. It was impressive.

  “Aeduuard, your family is waiting on the dock for you to bring your brother,” announced someone from its back. Aeduuard’s head swam for a moment as the spell of forgetting lifted