by Jeff Wheeler
“Who’s there?”
It was Drew’s voice. He stood at the side of the bed, the sword Firebos in hand. The blade was glowing, illuminating his face, his tousled hair. He looked haggard and tired.
Trynne reached out with her magic and sensed Rucrius coming down the hall.
“Trynne,” she answered hurriedly. “I’m here with Lady Evie. The castle is overrun, and I must take you to safety. Where’s Genny?”
Drew rubbed his eyes, still clenching the blade. “Something made everyone fall asleep. I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t move until just a few moments ago.”
“Where is Genny?” Trynne repeated more urgently. “Where’s the baby?”
“The nursery, I think,” Drew said. “She never came to bed last night. I think the baby was ill.”
Save the king.
Trynne felt frantic, but the warning pounded through her, even more urgent that time. She tried to see how she could get all of them to safety and realized it wasn’t possible.
Suddenly Lady Evie touched Trynne’s shoulder. “I’ll get them,” she promised. “I know my way through the Espion tunnels. I’ll get them to the sanctuary of Our Lady through the cistern. Go.”
Trynne felt a pang of relief and nodded. Evie rushed to the wall and tripped the latch that opened the secret door. She disappeared into it and shut it behind her.
“My lord, we must go to Dundrennan,” Trynne said. She marched up to him and seized his arm. The hollow crown sat next to the bed. The king stared at it as if it were a wolf spider, a bane. Then he took it up with his other hand, holding Firebos to his chest. He looked worried, heartbroken, and furious.
“Take us there,” he ordered.
The door flew open, revealing Rucrius and several guards wearing the Sun and Rose. But they were imposters and she knew it. The Wizr’s eyes were glowing, reflecting the light from the torches held by his lackeys.
Trynne pictured in her mind the castle of Dundrennan. She invoked the magic of the Tay al-Ard.
She felt the magic murmur.
Nothing happened.
A foul smile spread across Rucrius’s face. “All magic has its limits.”
The Wizr reached out his hand, the one with the beetle-sized ring, and the Tay al-Ard wrenched from her grasp and flew to him. He caught it triumphantly.
Then his visage shifted, his body altered, and suddenly Rucrius was King Drew, flanked by his knights. “Now give me my crown!” he snarled.
His eyes were still glowing.
I made it off the island in the disguise of a gardener. There is a great war under way. The king of this land is seeking all available warriors to join the cause. I don’t know how I know this, but I am skilled in the arts of war. I saw a knight riding his steed, and when I saw his sword, I knew that I could use it. I have neither money nor a weapon of my own. They say the king’s army is across the sea fighting an ancient enemy. More warriors are needed. Perhaps I was a mercenary. I wish I could remember more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Scattered
“Stand behind me,” Drew said to Trynne, gripping the pommel of Firebos with angry determination. “He may mask himself, but I am the true king.”
Trynne felt the throb of worry and fear. She had no weapon, and the Tay al-Ard, which had failed her, had been wrenched from her hand. Rucrius had soldiers with him and she had no doubt they were here to murder her king. When the king tried to come before her, she held out her arm, barring him. Her magic reached out, looking for vulnerabilities in their enemies, searching for a way they could escape.
“You cannot take the crown,” Trynne said defiantly to Rucrius. “It must be earned.”
“You have been meddlesome long enough,” the Wizr snapped. “Take the girl, she has useful information. Slay the king.”
Trynne’s magic saw that there were only three ways out of the chamber: through the door that Rucrius was blocking with his men, through the Espion tunnel that Evie had just used to flee, and another, which Rucrius would never suspect. There was a garderobe closet behind where she and the king stood, connected to the cesspit at the base of the castle. Her magic sensed that the shaft was wide enough for a single person. No ley lines passed through the room.
She needed to buy them some time. “My lord,” she said over her shoulder. “Through the privy. Now! Aspis!”
She invoked the word of power to create a shield around her and the king, backing toward the privy doors as the warriors rushed forward. As soon as they reached the boundary of her shield, the magic flung them backward violently. She only had a moment or two, though—Rucrius could rip her shield apart. The king looked at her in confusion and then realized what she meant. A look of disgust twisted on his face as he turned and flung open the door to the garderobe.
She felt Rucrius’s power throb against hers, but she maintained her hold on the shield.
“Quickly, my lord!” Trynne panted.
King Drew flung the wooden seat up and gazed down the black shaft.
“Into the cistern!” Trynne said, invoking her father’s words.
King Drew’s face twisted with revulsion, but he jumped down the shaft, holding his sword in one hand and the hollow crown in the other.
“Stop her!” Rucrius roared in fury.
Her shield unraveled. One of the soldiers rushed her, trying to club her on the head with the pommel of his sword. She caught his wrist, kicked him in the knee and then the groin, and wrestled the blade from him by flipping him onto his back. Spinning the blade around her back, she struck one of the knights in the chest as he charged at her.
There was no time to spare. Still holding the sword, Trynne rushed to the garderobe and jumped in after the king.
The black stone walls of the shaft rushed past her, and it felt like traveling over the ley lines until she hit a curve in the stone. She had to scrape her front until she began free-falling again.
She landed in a heap of muck just as the king pulled himself free from it. His sword glowed a brilliant blue.
“This is awful,” Drew said through clenched teeth. The smell of the cesspit was unbearable, and he started retching uncontrollably.
Trynne knew a word of power to help fight the feeling, so she invoked it and quickly scanned the darkness. They were in a large stone box, and the opening they’d slid down was on the ceiling just behind them. On the other side of the room was a series of deep stone steps leading upward. She hurried over to them, and when she looked up, she saw an iron-barred hatch. Moonlight and fresh air were pouring in from above. The cesspit was hot, and the sound her shoes made in the filth sickened her. Another body landed in the muck pile behind them. Trynne, who had made her way up the steps, whirled around and watched King Drew kill the attacker with a single blow of his sword.
Trynne pushed on the iron hatch, but it was locked by an iron ring fastened to a bar. “Anoichto!” she said, and the lock slid open. The hatch groaned as she pushed on it.
“Up here!” she called to Drew, straining her shoulders to lift the hatch. The king rushed up the steps and helped her push it up. The hatch rattled and clanged as it fell away. Trynne’s heart was still in her throat at the narrowness of their escape. The others were coming, or would be.
The king set down his sword and hoisted Trynne around her middle to lift her up through the hole. He handed up the crown and both blades, which she set on the edge of the opening, and then he reached up to grab her hand. She planted her foot on the side of the wall and helped pull him up as he clambered out.
The sound of another body landing in the cesspit alerted them that their time was nearly done. There was cursing and grumbling followed by the sound of someone vomiting. Trynne and Drew slammed down the hatch lid together, and then she worked feverishly to secure the lock while he claimed his weapon and crown.
There were stone walls on three sides of the hatch, the kind of rough-hewn stone that was not meant to be decorative. The edges were blunted and the pieces held together by mortar.
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br /> “By the Fountain, Trynne, what’s going on?” the king whispered to her. “Where is the Espion? Where are my knights? How was I left so vulnerable?”
After locking the hatch, she gripped the sword she’d commandeered and led the way out of the inlet. She gazed both ways, searching for movement. They were in the gardener’s paddock, where the rakes and shovels and wheelbarrows were stored. When she craned her neck, she saw the castle rising up behind them, dark and skeletal.
“My lord, there is a plot afoot,” she answered, rubbing her hand along her arm to quell the shivering. Her clothes and skin reeked of the cesspit, but the stench was no longer so overpowering. “Morwenna and I went to Chandigarl. I brought back Lady Evie, as you saw.”
“Where is my half sister?” Drew demanded intently, his eyes narrowing.
“Back in Chandigarl, for all I know,” Trynne said. “Her disguise failed while we were going to rescue Lady Evie from the zenana. My disguise wasn’t caused by magic, so no one suspected me. But no, that’s not true. Gahalatine set a trap. He let me come into the tower, hoping to capture me. My lord, I’m sure there are more layers to the situation than what I understand.” She gazed at the abandoned yard and then motioned for the king to follow her to the arched doorway leading to the gardens.
A rattling at the hatch behind them startled her. She did not believe Rucrius would jump down the shaft after them. He was too proud, too powerful for such a scheme. Reaching the doorway, she listened and heard the tread of boots coming toward it.
“Someone is coming,” the king whispered, hearing the sound.
“There is a fountain that way,” Trynne said, pointing toward the door. “I know this part of the grounds well. If we can reach it, I can take us through the ley lines.” She motioned for him to stand on the other side of the door. She pressed her back against the stone, holding the sword up. Drew mimicked her and waited breathlessly on the other side.
The door handle jiggled and then it opened, but it was not Rucrius or any of his men on the other side. Drew, the castle’s woodsman, entered the gardener’s paddock, gripping an axe in his hand. His snowy white hair nearly glowed in the moonlight.
Trynne sighed and let the sword drop.
“Drew?” the king asked in surprise.
“Your Majesty!” the woodsman said with a chuff of surprise. “What are you doing here? You smell like the royal hog pens, my lord.”
The king let out a short laugh. “They say a pig is happiest in its own filth. I assure you, that is not my emotion. Where is Liona?”
The woodsman lowered the axe. “She’s abed. I awoke with a start and had a strong feeling that I needed to come to the paddock. It’s an ill omen, my lord. The grounds are too quiet. I heard some strange noises.”
“The castle is overrun,” Trynne said, shaking her head. “The Wizr Rucrius is impersonating the king.”
The snowy-haired woodsman shook his head angrily. “By what black art is he doing that? Are you escaping Kingfountain, then? I think the Fountain woke me to help you.”
Trynne felt certain it was true. She turned to the king. “We have to get away from the palace. There was a magic staff in the poisoner’s tower that made everyone fall asleep. I broke it before coming to you, so it cannot harm anyone now. It’s my belief that the Wizr was planning to harm or imprison you and then pretend to be you to disrupt our defenses. I don’t think Gahalatine would condone his actions.”
King Drew nodded in agreement. “Master Woodsman—we share the same name. Right now, you must act on my behalf. Find Lord Amrein of the Espion. Tell him that we’ve escaped and that there is an imposter in the palace. Tell him to rally our forces to Dundrennan. We will fight for Kingfountain from the North. Then get you and your wife to safety. Can I entrust you with this mission?”
The woodsman nodded sternly. “I will not fail you, my lord.”
“Thank you. I depend on it.”
They would away to Dundrennan, and Drew would send warriors to meet them. Lady Evie would try to bring Genevieve and the baby to the sanctuary of Our Lady. Trynne told herself that it would all work out as planned. She had to believe it.
The woodsman hefted his axe and returned to the garden. Trynne and the king emerged into the immaculate grounds. In her heart, Trynne believed Gahalatine was not part of the ploy. He intended to win his victory on the battlefield, not through trickery. But his own servants were actively plotting against him as well.
Together, Trynne and Drew hurried across the gardens. Trynne looked at the shadowy magnolia trees. The reminder of Fallon struck a bitter chord inside of her.
“Where is your protector?” Trynne asked. “Where is Fallon?”
“He’s still at the palace. I ordered him to summon his army and bring it to Kingfountain,” Drew said, shaking his head. “His messenger has probably just arrived at Dundrennan.”
Trynne sighed. She saw the fountain ahead. The waters were stilled at night, so there wasn’t the sound to guide her to it.
“I can’t thank you enough, Trynne. If you hadn’t returned when you did, all would have been lost. I can imagine someone like Rucrius pretending to be me.” His voice was swollen with anger and resentment. “Genevieve will see through the disguise if he tries to lure her out of Our Lady. He might pretend, but he cannot be me. Now I regret that we didn’t execute him the moment you arrived with him as your prisoner.”
“Wizrs are the most powerful piece on the board,” Trynne said. “Your Wizrs have always served you and the interests of Kingfountain. In Chandigarl, it is a different culture. Men like Rucrius feel they are above the king.”
Drew nodded. “I never felt that from Myrddin,” he said. “Or your mother. Or from you, for that matter. Do you think that my sister was part of this plot, Trynne? Do you think she was trying to dethrone me?”
“Yes, my lord,” Trynne said honestly. “Yes, I do think she is part of it.”
As they approached the quiet fountain, the panic she’d felt earlier began to subside. She had feared the waters would be guarded. Glancing around, she reached out with her magic, knowing full well that Rucrius would be able to feel her doing so. She wanted him to know she had escaped with the king. She wanted him to worry about what they would do next.
At the center of the fountain was a series of sculptures depicting scenes of the Deep Fathoms, including a representation of the Lady of the Fountain. As Trynne stared up at it, she wondered where her mother was at that moment. Was it dark where she was, or daybreak? A breeze washed the scent of the magnolias over her. Trynne closed her eyes and stepped over the edge of the railing. The king followed her, gazing back at the castle he was abandoning. His mouth was pressed into an angry frown. The sword Firebos dipped down toward the waters as he held it in a loose grip.
“To Dundrennan, then,” he said to her.
Trynne shook her head. “No. To Averanche first. It’s time you met your other protectors, my lord.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The King’s Defense
There was not even a pale glimmer of dawn in the horizon yet. But the Oath Maidens were already up and training fiercely. The noise of staves clacking against each other was mixed with the din of steel blades. Trynne had brought King Drew through the garden fountain to her castle and had walked to the upper battlements, which offered a view of the yard. True to form, Captain Staeli was drilling the girls hard before the dawn, and he would continue to drill them throughout the day.
For a long while, the king stared dumbfounded at the action below in the yard. There were easily a hundred girls wearing padded tunics and leather arm bracers. Some trained with shields, others with spears. A row of girls with bows practiced relentlessly with the archery butts. Those with long hair had it tethered back into braids or bound with straps. They were all dressed like warriors. Trynne couldn’t suppress a smile as she leaned over the wall, gazing down at the assembled group.
“I’d not imagined there were so many,” the king whispered in amazement. �
�This is what Genevieve has been supporting?”
“There are even more,” Trynne said. “Those who have completed two months’ training are sent back to their homes with the skills they have honed and the weapons they have trained with, but some have stayed on to help train more. Each of these girls has been trained to battle Gahalatine’s knights. That girl, the one with the dark hair, is the daughter of King Sunilik of the desert. She trained among her own people and has been a friend to me.” She turned to him and added, “There are nearly a thousand Oath Maidens throughout the realm as we speak.”
“A thousand,” Drew gasped in wonder, shaking his head. He pressed his hands against the edge of the battlement wall. “I’d never imagined there would be so many. Who is that overseeing the training? I think I recognize him. He was one of your father’s captains?”
“Captain Staeli,” Trynne said.
“Yes, Staeli. He was there at Guilme. When I was a lad, he became your father’s captain after the Battle of Dundrennan.” Clenching his fist, he tapped it on the stone of the battlement. “I should like to meet them, Trynne. But not looking and smelling like this. Can I borrow some clothes from the Lady of Averanche? I should be very proud to wear your badge.”
It was daybreak when Trynne and Drew returned to the training yard. The king was outfitted as one of the guardsmen of Averanche, wearing the badge of the Tower Moon. A suitable scabbard and belt had been furnished for the blade Firebos, and the weapon of kings was strapped around Drew’s waist. Beneath the tunic, he wore a chain hauberk. The hood was down around his shoulders. Trynne had also provided a leather satchel for him to keep the hollow crown on his person at all times.
Trynne also wore the garb of a warrior, and her two blades were strapped behind her. She had sturdy boots and pants, both of which were well worn and had served her well in her own training as a knight. When the king saw her, he startled a bit.
“I suppose it hadn’t dawned on me fully that you also made the time to train with Captain Staeli,” he said with a sheepish grin.
