In the long-awaited return to Avalon by the beloved author of The Mists of Avalon and her collaborator, bestselling author Diana L. Paxson , Marion Zimmer Bradley fuses myth, magic and romance in a spectacular unfolding of one woman's role in the making of history and spirit... Marion Zimmer Bradley  was the New York Times bestselling science fiction and fantasy author of the Avalon series, the Darkover series, and more. In addition to her novels, Mrs. Bradley edited many magazines, amateur and professional, including Marion Zimmer Bradley's Fantasy Magazine . She died in 1999 and was posthumously awarded the World Fantasy Award for Lifetime Achievement in 2000. Priestess of Avalon By Marion Zimmer Bradley Roc Copyright © 2002 Marion Zimmer Bradley All right reserved. ISBN: 9780451458629 Chapter One AD 259 "Oh! I can see water gleaming in the sun! Is it the sea?" I dug my heels intothe pony's round side to bring it alongside Corinthius's big horse. The beastbroke into a rough trot and I clutched at its mane. "Ah, Helena, your young eyes are better than mine," answered the old man, whohad been tutor to my half-brothers before being inherited by me. "A blaze oflight is all that I can see. But I think that what lies before us must be thelevels of the Summer Country, flooded by the spring rains." I brushed back a wisp of hair and peered around me. The waters were broken up byhummocks of higher ground like islands and divided by winding rows of trees.Beyond them I could make out a line of hills where Corinthius said there werelead mines, ending in a bright haze that must be the estuary of the Sabrina. "Then we are almost there?" The pony tossed its head as I squeezed its sides andthen pulled back on the rein. "We are if the rains have not washed out the causeway, and we can locate thevillage of the Lake folk that my master told me to find." I looked up at him with swift pity, for he sounded very tired. I could see linesin the thin face beneath the broad straw hat, and he sat slumped in the saddle.My father should not have made the old man come all this way. But when thejourney was over, Corinthius, a Greek who had sold himself into slavery as ayouth in order to dower his sisters, would have his freedom. He had saved a nicelittle nest egg over the years, and meant to set up a school in Londinium. "We will come to the Lake village in the afternoon," said the guide who hadjoined my escort in Lindinis. "When we get there, we will rest," I said briskly. "I thought you were eager to come to the Tor," Corinthius said kindly. Perhapshe would be sorry to lose me at that, I thought, smiling up at him. After my twobrothers, who cared for nothing but hunting, he had said he enjoyed teachingsomeone who actually wanted to learn. "I will have the rest of my life to enjoy Avalon," I answered him. "I can wait aday longer to arrive." "And start your studies once more-"Corinthius laughed. "They say that thepriestesses of Avalon have preserved the old Druid wisdom. It consoles me alittle to know that you will not spend your life running some fat magistrate'shousehold and bearing his children." I smiled. My father's wife had tried to convince me that such a life was awoman's highest hope, but I had always known that sooner or later I would begoing to Avalon. That it was sooner was due to the rebellion of a general calledPostumus, whose war had cut Britannia off from the Empire. Unprotected, thesoutheastern coasts were vulnerable to raiders, and Prince Coelius had thoughtit best to send his little daughter to the safety of Avalon while he and hissons prepared to defend Camulodunum. For a moment, then, my smile faltered, for I had been the apple of my father'seye, and I hated the thought that he might be in danger. But I knew well enoughthat while he was away from home my life there would not have been a happy one.To the Romans I was my father's love-child, with no mother's family, for it wasforbidden to speak of Avalon. In truth it was Corinthius and old Huctia, who hadbeen my nurse, who had been my family, and Huctia had died the winter before. Itwas time for me to return to my mother's world. The road led downward now, winding gently back and forth across the slope of thehill. As we emerged from the shelter of the trees, I shaded my eyes with myhand. Below, the waters lay upon the land like a sheet of gold. "If you were a faerie horse," I murmured to my pony, "we could gallop along thatshining path all the way to Avalon." But the pony only shook its head and reached for a mouthful of grass, and wecontinued to clop down the road one step at a time until we came to the slipperylogs of the causeway. Now I could see the gray stalks of last summer's grasswavering in the water and beyond them the reedbeds that edged the permanentchannels and pools. The deeper water was dark, charged with mystery. Whatspirits ruled these marshes, where the elements were so confused and mingledthat one could not tell where e