Air: Merlin's Chalice (The Children of Avalon Book 1) Read Free

she unwrapped it and set it on the table. Carefully uncorking the water skin, Nimuë poured the precious liquid into the bowl.
    As its scent wafted up to her, her senses were overwhelmed with memories of home. The smell of the flowers and rich earth, the taste of the most delicious fruits and the sweetest vegetables. Her ears rang with laughter and song—everything that spoke of happiness.
    It was Avalon. And it was something Nimuë had not experienced for a very long time.
    Her eyes stung momentarily with unshed tears, but she blinked them away. This was no time for sentimentality. She had much more important work to do.
    Focusing on the sacred water of Avalon, Nimuë willed the faces of the three children to be shown to her. Despite the distance of seven generations, her connection to them should still be strong enough.
    Slowly, the world around her faded away. The pounding from the armorer below, the thumping of horses’ hooves on the compacted dirt of the courtyard, even the room around her disappeared from her vision, just as the Isle itself had faded into the mists. The only thing left was her own reflection shimmering in the water before her eyes. Softly, Nimuë blew a ripple across its glossy surface—and through the undulating water, another face appeared, replacing her own reflection.
    The face was of a pretty, young woman. She was in her late teens, if not older. Her brilliant blue eyes stared out at Nimuë, laughing, full of love and happiness. Freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. A hand appeared, pushing back bright red curls behind her ears. Seeing the clarity of the image sparked a nagging worry in the back of Nimuë’s mind. If they all appeared this clearly in her scrying bowl —could they already be too schooled for her to defeat? No! That could not be. Even though they were adults now, they had not yet discovered who they truly were, nor, even more importantly, found each other. She refocused on the water. And she couldn’t have killed them while they were still children. Even she had limits.
    The scene behind the girl dissolved into recognizable buildings—Gloucester. A slow smile crept onto Nimuë’s face. She had been to St. Peter’s Abbey not too long ago. Now, it looked as if she would be paying it another visit.
    Nimuë stood back from the water for a moment. The young woman did not look like a killer. She did not look like a powerful Vallen either, but looks could deceive. Nimuë smiled wryly as she reflected: no one would have ever thought that she herself could be so… determined.
    But there was something else in this face. Something familiar. Nimuë did not know what it was, and she did not have time right now to try to figure it out.
    She blew another gentle breeze over the water and watched as the girl’s face dissolved into another. Her own—no, wait. Not her own, but one so very much like hers it was uncanny.
    Her own green eyes stared up at her, set above the same high cheekbones as hers and a nose that, although a bit larger, was very familiar. Even the smile, holding a hint of pain, echoed her own. It was the jaw line, distinctly masculine, that distinguished this face from Nimuë’s. This was a young man, who despite his meager years—certainly not much more than twenty—had known sorrow and distress. And yet he smiled at her as if he beheld something very pleasing to his eye. What was it that he was looking at that made him smile in this way?
    Nimuë shook such ridiculous musings from her mind. This boy was destined to kill her! Did it matter who he was or what made him smile? No. What mattered was that she find him before he found her.
    But where was he? Unremarkable scenery gathered behind him. Green trees made up his surroundings, that and a swiftly flowing stream. There was nothing to mark his location. He could have been anywhere in England or Wales. But this did not deter Nimuë. She would find him; she had no fear of this.
    Once again, she blew across the