The Last Day of Avalon

and his memory returned. In an instant, he knew both dragon and dragon lord rider.

  “Melador is trapped at the mine. I am on my way to get help,” he answered Edan, his mother’s cousin. At the same time, he also stretched out his arm. The dragon’s scaled neck, half a man’s height in diameter, curved toward him. The side of its snout slid under his hand and gave his palm a slight nudge.

  “Hello, Vaughn,” he greeted as he began to pet.

  “No time for that. Climb aboard,” instructed Edan. “We need to get Melador to the docks. The ship has already delayed departure because your mother refuses to board without him, but the captain can’t wait much longer.”

  A muscular man dressed in tight-fitting, black garments and a long horned helmet, Edan was Brisen’s peer but he looked to be Aeduuard’s. The dragon lord’s tie to his dragon combined with the close proximity of his sleeping quarters to the focus of druid stone magic had kept him young. His legs straddling Vaughn’s neck, he leaned down with arm extended. Aeduuard, now standing, reached up and was hoisted behind a slim saddle.

  “Hold my waist so you don’t fall,” Edan ordered. Without a word or a nudge, his dragon began moving. Instructed telepathically, Vaughn’s powerful wings pressed wind beneath them. He soared upwards and glided down. He landed sideways beside the mine, with one claw in its entrance and three grabbing the rock face beside it.

  Their quick appearance took a certain persistent mermaid quite by surprise. Aeduuard suppressed a snicker as he saw her pushed out to sea on a large wave created intentionally by Vaughn’s tail. He was pretty sure she would not try to tempt any druid children again.

  With Edan and Vaughn’s help, it took only minutes to save Melador (and his fishing pole) from the mine. The great beast’s wings labored under the weight of three riders to get them to the dock. But the ship had already sailed by the time they got there.

  For the first time, Aeduuard got to witness the reactions of his family as a dragon approached. He saw as relief washed over their faces when they recognized Edan and their memories returned. But his mother’s relief was twofold because her baby was being returned to her.

  “Melador!” she grabbed the boy and clutched him to her bosom as he was guided down from the dragon’s back. Aeduuard and Edan slid quietly down after him, relieved to avoid the same fate.

  “What were you thinking? Don’t ever worry me like that again!” Brisen’s arms wrapped tightly about her youngest child; He squirmed to break free.

  From beside their belongings, his father watched, silent. A man of few words, he had even fewer when he was irritated. He was clearly irritated by today’s developments.

  “What happened?” he addressed Aeduuard, his voice like a shard of ice. The tiny hairs on the back of Aeduuard’s neck stood on end at the sound of it. The would-be master of dragons felt like a child in trouble.

  “Sir,” he reported, his eyes downcast and voice quiet with respect, “Melador got trapped in the mine by the rising tide. I ran for help as soon as I found him but we couldn’t get here before the ship left. I’m sorry.”

  Faelan directed his second question to his second son, his tone just as even and icy, “Why did you go to the mine without telling your mother, son?”

  Melador was instantly still, not even trying to wrest himself from his mother’s grasp. Her arms slowly slipped away so he could account for himself.

  “I needed to get my fishing pole, Father,” he answered. Unlike the way he communicated with his siblings, this time he elaborated, “It is the one Aeduuard carved my name into and I want to remember my brother after he becomes a dragon lord.”

  “That sounds like a reasonable excuse to go to the mine, son,” came their father’s reply, “but it doesn’t answer my question. Why didn’t you tell your mother where you were going? You know it is moving day and you knew she would worry if she could not find you.”

  At this point, the high priest was teaching responsibility as much as the father was chastising his son. His eyes wise with great age, his voice quiet and even, he allowed Melador to realize the impact of his action and bear its resulting guilt.

  “I… I…” the boy stammered, “I’m sorry, Father. I only wanted to go and return quickly. I didn’t think about Mother’s feelings.”

  “That’s right,” Faelan confirmed. “You did not think. Now apologize to your mother.”

  Ancient eyes in a middle-aged face turned to Brisen. The twist in Faelan’s lips parted with a short statement, “He’s your son.”

  It was at this point that Eigyr’s betrothed, also a member of the now-stranded party, took an opportunity to interrupt. Stepping forward, the dark haired youth interjected, “I beg your pardon, eminence, but may I ask a question?”

  Faelan’s eyebrows flashed up for a brief moment. His eyes moved to the young man. “You should probably stop calling me eminence now that we are about to enter the world of mortal men, Ragnald. There are no high priests there,” he corrected. “Why don’t you just call me father? You are, after all, almost my son-in-law.”

  “Y… yes, eminence… I mean… father,” the youth stammered, taken aback by the premature familiarity. “But may I ask a question?”

  The high priest gave a curt nod in response.

  “It’s just that the last ship has sailed. How will we move to Normandy?”

  It was a valid question, one that Faelan had considered while Melador was missing and Brisen would not depart without him. Whereas a high priest could certainly have delayed the ship’s departure by a day, Faelan had determined an alternative which would not inconvenience the other passengers.

  “We are not going to Normandy now, son,” he answered.

  Confusion washed over Ragnald’s face. A second question formed on his lips but Faelan answered before it was voiced.

  “Look on the horizon,” he instructed, indicating the direction with a lift of his chin. On the horizon’s edge was a familiar stretch of land, the shore of Saint Mary.

  Avalon’s closest neighbor, Saint Mary, was the largest island in the archipelago of Scillei but it was still a very small island. Because it was so small, it was determined long ago that it would be unable to support both its human inhabitants and a large influx of migrant druids. So it was ruled out as a site for relocation. But it was close and there was certainly enough space for a family of five to settle.

  Faelan looked askance at his wife’s cousin, “I think three dragons can carry eight people and some belongings to Saint Mary. What do you think, Edan?”

  Edan, who had purposely been staying out of the family interactions, blinked at the sound of his name. Standing beside Vaughn with a hand on the creature’s foreleg, they had been in silent conversation.

  The young-looking man’s eyes lost their glaze to focus on his cousin’s husband, “What do I think about what?”

  Faelan repeated himself, more asking a favor than a question, for dragon lords had authority to deny anyone’s request of their dragons, “Do you think three dragons can carry eight people and some belongings from here to Saint Mary?”

  Edan’s eyes glazed over for a moment as he conferred with his mount. Then he returned with an answer, “There will be nine people, not eight. Five of you and four of us. Vaughn thinks he can carry three on his back and about a third of your luggage in his claws. He thinks the dragon we brought for the two apprentices can do the same. But we will have to ask my partner about his mount. She is slightly smaller than the males. One moment while I ask.”

  He turned away from them to speak into the air and they heard the familiar words, “labhairt liom,” but he did not touch an amulet around his neck for he had none. Instead, he wore a ring of station on his hand. The enchanted ring contained faceted druid stone to substitute for a priestly amulet.

  “Mother,” Aeduuard asked in a hushed tone while their cousin was busy. “I thought I was the only apprentice going this year. Who is the other?”

  “No idea,” she shook her head from side to side.
Ragnald, Eigyr and Melador had similar responses. Their mother caught her husband’s attention, “Honey? Do you know?”

  He shrugged, “Probably.”

  The whole family stared at him in silence, waiting for him to elaborate. He sighed when he noticed them and explained, “If the other recruit was already given his ring of station, then we will have forgotten him. Don’t worry. If we know him, we will remember when we see him. If not, we will meet him in few minutes.”

  The high priest’s words held true. When Thored and the second dragon lord came down from the temple to fly them to Saint Mary, the whole family remembered him. This caused Aeduuard considerable concern. He had trouble believing that he could have so completely forgotten his lifelong friend. He wondered if his own family would remember him when he was away. He did not want his memory completely erased from family history.

  “Be at ease,” Edan assured him, extending his hand. In it, he held Aeduuard’s new ring of station. Wrapped around a smooth-faceted, oval druid stone, a silver-colored band twisted in resemblance to a dragon clasping an almost black egg.

  “My friends forget me when I am not in their sight, but Lord Randall’s protection spell is not cruel. My family always remembers me,” he explained. “Only, when I am away, they do not recall having seen me since before my recruitment. It is the same with all our friends and families. But believe me when I say the