it was a place that Vortigern’s wars had never invaded. She would be safe there. If he
could get her there.
Merlin found Nimue’s cloak lying on the ground a few feet away and gently wrapped her in it.
But the Isle of Avalon was many leagues from here, in the uttermost west. The dragon’s gorge was miles from any habitation.
Merlin had no horse. By the time he could carry Nimue to Avalon Abbey on foot she would be dead.
Merlin clenched his fists in fury. He would not accept that. There must be a way! His magic must find him one.
Half-forgotten scraps of wizardly learning came back to him as if the past were only yesterday. There were still forces he
could call upon, and an ally given to him not by Mab, but by her antithesis, Idath, the Winter King.
“Sir Rupert!”
Merlin shouted.
There was a moment of stillness, and Merlin feared that his magic had failed him at the moment he needed it most. Then he
heard a sound of hooves striking stone, and a sturdy grey horse with a dark maneand tail—fully saddled and bridled—cantered down the valley.
“Sir Rupert, old friend!” Merlin cried. The flood of relief he felt at the sight of Sir Rupert was nearly overpowering. “Help
me!” He scrambled to his feet, Nimue in his arms. Even in the anguish of the moment, Merlin felt as if a long-dormant part
of himself was wakening into life once more, and he did not know whether to exult or grieve.
*I will do all I can,*
the horse answered, bowing its head.
Avalon Abbey lay far west from the lair of the Great Dragon, but Sir Rupert had been sired by a stallion of the Wild Hunt,
and it was only minutes before he brought Merlin and his precious burden to the coast. The Isle of Avalon stood serenely,
reflected in the still water of the ocean, for the tide was in and it was completely cut off from the land. But Sir Rupert
did not even slow down; Idath’s gift to Merlin galloped across the water as surefootedly as he had galloped across the land.
In moments Merlin had reached the gates of Avalon Abbey.
Once upon a time long ago, Joseph of Arimathea had brought the Christians’ most precious treasure to this place: the Holy
Grail. Now, Merlin brought Nimue—his most precious treasure.
A group of the monks and nuns who lived there had gathered to watch his arrival. When they saw Merlin’s burden, the Healing
Sisters clustered around his horse gently taking Nimue from him, and wrapping her in a thick wool blanket they had brought.
Amongthem was the cowled figure of the Father Abbot, ruler of Avalon.
“Help her, Father!” Merlin implored.
“We help all who come to us,” the Father Abbot said kindly. Behind him, the nuns gently carried Nimue away.
The autumn day was dark and cloudy, and rain threatened.
Mab has made me break my vow
. Merlin numbly waited in the Abbey gardens to hear the Healing Sisters’ verdict. Someone had brought him a cloak, and he
wrapped it closely around him, although he was too tormented by his thoughts to feel the cold.
How could I—could we—have come to this? Oh, Nimue, I have brought you nothing but pain!
The stones of the cloister gave no reply, and the slow hours passed in silence. There were walls all around him, but the roof
of the garden was open to the sky, and so he was not too uncomfortable. Slowly his sorrow gave way to a certain interest in
his surroundings. This was the first time in all his life that Merlin had been in a Christian place, and despite himself he
was curious about those people whom Mab considered her deadliest enemies. Ambrosia had once told him that his mother had come
from here, so in a sense Avalon was as much a part of Merlin’s being as the Land of Magic.
He stood in the middle of an herb garden. All around him grew many plants with which he was familiar for their healing properties,
and more which he did not know, brought to the Abbey by its fellowship across the sea. He knew that Avalon was famous for
itsapples as
could get her there.
Merlin found Nimue’s cloak lying on the ground a few feet away and gently wrapped her in it.
But the Isle of Avalon was many leagues from here, in the uttermost west. The dragon’s gorge was miles from any habitation.
Merlin had no horse. By the time he could carry Nimue to Avalon Abbey on foot she would be dead.
Merlin clenched his fists in fury. He would not accept that. There must be a way! His magic must find him one.
Half-forgotten scraps of wizardly learning came back to him as if the past were only yesterday. There were still forces he
could call upon, and an ally given to him not by Mab, but by her antithesis, Idath, the Winter King.
“Sir Rupert!”
Merlin shouted.
There was a moment of stillness, and Merlin feared that his magic had failed him at the moment he needed it most. Then he
heard a sound of hooves striking stone, and a sturdy grey horse with a dark maneand tail—fully saddled and bridled—cantered down the valley.
“Sir Rupert, old friend!” Merlin cried. The flood of relief he felt at the sight of Sir Rupert was nearly overpowering. “Help
me!” He scrambled to his feet, Nimue in his arms. Even in the anguish of the moment, Merlin felt as if a long-dormant part
of himself was wakening into life once more, and he did not know whether to exult or grieve.
*I will do all I can,*
the horse answered, bowing its head.
Avalon Abbey lay far west from the lair of the Great Dragon, but Sir Rupert had been sired by a stallion of the Wild Hunt,
and it was only minutes before he brought Merlin and his precious burden to the coast. The Isle of Avalon stood serenely,
reflected in the still water of the ocean, for the tide was in and it was completely cut off from the land. But Sir Rupert
did not even slow down; Idath’s gift to Merlin galloped across the water as surefootedly as he had galloped across the land.
In moments Merlin had reached the gates of Avalon Abbey.
Once upon a time long ago, Joseph of Arimathea had brought the Christians’ most precious treasure to this place: the Holy
Grail. Now, Merlin brought Nimue—his most precious treasure.
A group of the monks and nuns who lived there had gathered to watch his arrival. When they saw Merlin’s burden, the Healing
Sisters clustered around his horse gently taking Nimue from him, and wrapping her in a thick wool blanket they had brought.
Amongthem was the cowled figure of the Father Abbot, ruler of Avalon.
“Help her, Father!” Merlin implored.
“We help all who come to us,” the Father Abbot said kindly. Behind him, the nuns gently carried Nimue away.
The autumn day was dark and cloudy, and rain threatened.
Mab has made me break my vow
. Merlin numbly waited in the Abbey gardens to hear the Healing Sisters’ verdict. Someone had brought him a cloak, and he
wrapped it closely around him, although he was too tormented by his thoughts to feel the cold.
How could I—could we—have come to this? Oh, Nimue, I have brought you nothing but pain!
The stones of the cloister gave no reply, and the slow hours passed in silence. There were walls all around him, but the roof
of the garden was open to the sky, and so he was not too uncomfortable. Slowly his sorrow gave way to a certain interest in
his surroundings. This was the first time in all his life that Merlin had been in a Christian place, and despite himself he
was curious about those people whom Mab considered her deadliest enemies. Ambrosia had once told him that his mother had come
from here, so in a sense Avalon was as much a part of Merlin’s being as the Land of Magic.
He stood in the middle of an herb garden. All around him grew many plants with which he was familiar for their healing properties,
and more which he did not know, brought to the Abbey by its fellowship across the sea. He knew that Avalon was famous for
itsapples as
Similar Books
