The Silent Shield

Book 5: Kingfountain

by Jeff Wheeler

Genres: Historical Fantasy; Epic Fantasy; Coming of Age; Fantasy action & adventure; Arthurian; Romantic Fantasy; Sword & Sorcery; Young adult; YA Epic Fantasy; YA Coming of Age

Synopsis

Wall Street Journal bestselling author Jeff Wheeler continues the acclaimed Kingfountain Series with a vast expansion of this spellbinding world. Thrust into the heart of events threatening to rip her kingdom apart, young Trynne Kiskaddon will gain new powers and see old allies fall and new heroes rise as the battle for the kingdom and the lands beyond begins.

Courtly intrigue and rumors of invasion plunge Kingfountain into turmoil as the search for Trynne's father begins in earnest. But Trynne's quest to learn the truth of Owen's sinister disappearance is sidetracked when tragedy strikes her family once again. Suddenly, the future of the kingdom rests in her hands as she struggles to learn—and control—the power that can keep the threatening Deep Fathoms at bay.

When King Gahalatine unleashes his overwhelming forces against the realm, Trynne must draw on her political instincts, warrior training, and Fountain-blessed magic if she hopes to survive the chaos to come. But a final, epic confrontation will force Trynne into an unimaginable choice: save her kingdom and the lives of her people, or lose the one who means more to her than life itself.

Release date: August 22, 2017

Publisher: 47North

Print pages: 321

Sample

CHAPTER ONE

Chandleer Oasis

Traveling the ley lines was like plummeting over a waterfall. It sent Tryneowy Kiskaddon’s heart racing whenever she stepped into a fountain in one corner of the kingdom, only to almost instantaneously appear somewhere else. In the past, that mode of travel had given her a strong sense of queasiness that would not dispel for hours, but she’d practiced enough that she no longer grew sick to her stomach. No, what was disorienting Trynne was the fact that she’d left Averanche in the morning and arrived at her destination close to sunset.

She had appeared inside a fountain at the front of a palatial manor. As the mist dissolved around her and she heard the bubbling of the waters, she was struck by an oppressive heat that nearly took her breath away. The location was foreign to her, and her eyes filled with wonder as she stepped to the edge of the stone lip of the fountain. She didn’t want to leave the protection of it yet, just in case her summons there had been a carefully laid trap.

With four equally sized quadrants, the fountain was designed to resemble a flower. There were glowing stones in the water—so curious to behold—which gave the water a strange aspect. She didn’t know what made the light, but she knew Chandleer Oasis was part of the Marusthali Desert, located along the major ley line going east and west. Her mother possessed a book of maps, which Trynne had studied all her life, imagining herself in places she’d only heard of by name.

This place was not on it.

She had never been so far from home, but she relished the adventure.

The fountain was in the middle of a paved courtyard. There was a thatch-roofed hut just in front of her. Extending from its side was a pyramid-shaped roof that was bolstered by sturdy stone pillars affixed with stones glowing as brightly as the ones in the water. Beyond the hut was the manor with its many spires and turrets. The courtyard itself was surrounded by a semicircle of pillars supporting timbers and beams and a latticework covered in a variety of grapevines and wisteria, all providing shade over the area. The nearby hedges were meticulously trimmed into square-shaped blocks.

When Trynne swiveled around, she saw a long path flanked by bizarre giant trees she had only seen before in her mother’s books. They were very tall but narrow, like giant maypoles, and their bark bore a strange thatch-weave pattern. The tops of the trees burst into gigantic vibrant-green fronds.

The sound of sandaled feet slapping on stones caught her attention, and she turned again to see a dark-skinned man coming toward her from the shaded pavilion. The doors of the huge manor were being held open by other dark-skinned men wearing turbans.

The man approaching her wore a knee-length tunic the color of whey porridge. It was loose and breathy but embroidered with elegant stitches and patterns. He had a genial smile and bowed his head repeatedly as he approached, his hands pressed together in front of him, his fingers splayed.

“Worthy guest, you are most welcome,” the man said in a heavy accent she’d never heard before, bowing his head yet again. He had a trimmed mustache and goatee and thinning hair on the top of his head. When he reached the edge of the fountain, he dropped to his knees and bowed before her, placing his hands on the ground and prostrating himself as if she were an object of worship.

“Please,” Trynne said, feeling instantly uncomfortable. “Please stand. I didn’t know you would speak my language.”

The bearded man quickly rose to his feet, looking abashed. “I did not mean to displease you.”

His reaction only made her feel more out of place. The oppressive heat had made sweat pop out on her forehead and shoulder blades. The water of the fountain didn’t touch her skirts, but she would not have minded if it did.

“I’m not offended,” she said, shaking her head. “I am unfamiliar with your customs. Are you King Sunilik?”

The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh no, honored guest. I am but your humble servant, Samrao. Come with me, if you please, and I will take you to see him. He will be most honored that you came. If you would follow me?”

Trynne glanced again at the strangeness and beauty of the scene, but her head felt as if it were burning under the intense heat of the dusk. She could only imagine what the daylight hours felt like. She stepped over the edge of the railing, and the waters filled the gap she had left by standing in the pool.

She felt the presence of the Fountain all around her. Its magic thrived in this place, from the sleek vines and grape leaves to the polish on the stones at the edge of the fountain. There was a feeling of peace and serenity that made her less guarded and apprehensive.

As she followed the servant, he made a series of claps with his hands. Veiled maidens appeared from the doorway up ahead, each swaying an oversize palm frond. The air had been heavy and still, so the soft breeze came as a relief.

The interior of the palace bustled with servants and visitors who congregated inside to escape the daylight hours. The air was full of unfamiliar smells—spices and perfumes and the savory scent of dishes she’d never tasted. She followed Samrao across a polished tile floor that was made of marble with flecks of gold in the stone. The manor was not as large as Kingfountain, the royal castle in her realm, but it was impressive in its size and decoration.

Samrao paused to speak to another servant, who rushed ahead to announce them. As they moved through the manor, Trynne felt an increasing sense of self-consciousness. She was the only foreigner in the place. All the servants and citizens were dark skinned with black hair. Their form of attire was very different, the men wearing long tunics and boots and the women wearing brightly colored tunics with intricate patterns and covered by diaphanous veils. Trynne’s hair was much lighter, brown instead of black, with a slight curl to her tresses she could never tame. She had always been diminutive, but she was not weak. As the strangers looked at her, she wondered how many had noted the paralysis that afflicted part of her face.

The main entrance hall backed into a high-ceilinged area that boasted a wall of wood-slat windows. Servants with long hooked poles were adjusting the slats to open them up now that the sun was setting.

Queen Genevieve had received a personal message from the King of Chandleer that Gahalatine had announced his intention to invade the small desert kingdom. He had not asked for Kingfountain to defend him. But he had asked if his youngest daughter could be brought to the relative safety of Kingfountain. The king was a disciple of the Fountain, and the magic had moved him to make his request of the queen rather than of King Drew.

Genevieve had showed the message to Trynne, and both had felt it would be an interesting opportunity to gain more knowledge about their common enemy. And since Trynne was training the Oath Maidens, the young women who would help defend their kingdom, the king’s appeal had felt part of a larger design.

Two heavy wooden doors opened at the back of the hall, leading out to a veranda. It was there that she found King Sunilik waiting for her. Samrao gave a short bow and then slipped away.

Sunilik was not a tall man, only slightly taller than Trynne herself, and she was notably short among her peers. He was middle-aged and very fit and trim, with a touch of gray at his temples and thinning hair. He had a round face, and when he smiled at her, she noticed a gap in his front teeth. His expression changed into one of surprise.

“You are Lord Kiskaddon’s daughter?” he asked with interest. His smile grew even brighter as he stared at her. “I am humbled that the queen sent you. My dear young lady, you are most welcome.” He extended his hands in a tender gesture, and she took them, feeling their warmth. “I am a father of three daughters,” he said. “Each is a treasure to my wife and me.”

“You speak our language so well,” Trynne said, feeling the Fountain’s magic radiating from this man.

She glanced behind him and was dazzled by what she saw. The rear of the estate had a view of a jagged mountain that rose at a tilted angle before dropping precipitously down. There were no trees on the mountain, just red and brown rocks that reflected the fading sunlight in glints and colorful hues. More of the towering trees filled the rear of the palace, but they were eclipsed by the majesty of the pools and fountains spread out in front of her. The fountains were of different shapes and sizes, spilling and blasting beautiful plumes of water into the air. Walkways and bridges interconnected them.

“I can see you enjoy the fruit of our aqueducts,” King Sunilik said with a smile, releasing her hands. He turned and extended his arm. “I did not build this, my lady. I am but the humble steward who inherited a kingdom that was formed centuries ago. This palace was developed by my grandfather, who visited the court of Kingfountain in your realm.” He bowed his head humbly to her.

She shifted her gaze back to the oasis, marveling at the sight of the huge body of clean water amidst the parched desert wasteland. The Fountain could be felt in the trickling of the waters, but she realized it was also flowing from the man beside her. Intuition told her he was doing it deliberately to reveal himself to her.

“You are Fountain-blessed,” she said.

Again, he bowed his head. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I have no chance of defeating Gahalatine,” he said in a resigned tone. “I had hoped Chandleer Oasis would be too insignificant for him to consider. But he is running out of nations to conquer. And when one of his Wizrs arrived and emptied out our pools”—he said it with a shrug, but Trynne could sense the anger lurking behind the words—“I knew we would be overrun. He will give the oasis to one of his other leaders, someone from his spoke of influence. It will be a place where his people come to relax after their conquests. I have worked hard to maintain the oasis and protect its people. But Gahalatine will strip my position from me. That is what he does. I’ve heard too many of the stories to disbelieve it. And the strange thing is that since he, too, is Fountain-blessed, I will probably thank him for taking this away from me.”

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice, not that he could be blamed for it. Trynne, too, had heard about Gahalatine’s unique gift from the Fountain. It gave him such power of leadership that he had gathered to him a mighty host of kings who “wanted” to serve him.

“You said you had three daughters,” Trynne said. “What of the other two?”

King Sunilik beamed proudly. “My eldest is already married and they have a child, my granddaughter. My second is far from the oasis, studying to be a healer. I will need someone to care for me when I reach old age, so I thought it wise to invest in her learning.” He gave her a grin and a wink, but then his manner turned more serious. “It is my youngest, Sureya, who concerns me. The Fountain has whispered to me that I must send her away. I expected it would take a month for me to hear back from the queen. I wasn’t sure Chandleer would even exist as it does by then. It calms my troubled soul to see you here so soon. Will you bring Sureya to safety? I have taught her about my gifts from the Fountain and how they are replenished. She may have the aptitude for it. She is only sixteen.”

“So am I,” Trynne whispered. King Sunilik’s concern for his daughter reminded her of her own father—despite the many demands on his time, he had always made time for her—and her heart ached. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a year.

“Then I feel better already, for you both will understand each other,” he said with his gap-toothed smile.

“How did you know who I was?” Trynne asked him. “Did the Fountain tell you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I have long wished to meet the legendary Owen Kiskaddon, so I learned all that I could about him. One of the things that I learned was that his eldest child, his daughter”—he said the word almost reverently—“had been attacked violently as a child. It was your expression that gave you away, dear one. The side of your face that is paralyzed.” He gestured with his own hand across his left cheek. “If I hadn’t heard the stories, I would hardly have noticed it. But my gift from the Fountain is a keen memory.” He then tapped the side of his forehead playfully. “It has even been called prodigious. I knew that fact about you, saw a small evidence of it when you smiled in wonder, and the memory surfaced. If I have offended, I apologize sincerely.”

Trynne let herself smile despite knowing it was lopsided. Though it had mortified her as a child, she had made an uneasy peace with it. Many suitors were seeking her hand in marriage, and while some were rude and stared at her, most considered her unusual smile an insignificant matter compared with the vast size of her inheritance.

“I’m not offended, King Sunilik,” Trynne said. “And I will gladly take Sureya with me. How long ago did you receive the threat from Gahalatine?”

“Long enough that I’ve been dreading it more each day,” he replied, turning back to the view of the mountains. “My soldiers are hidden in the desert and have been watching for signs of his advance. We will have ample warning before they arrive. That mountain behind us provides great protection.”

Trynne looked back at the rugged, sloping shape. The sky had grown purple overhead, and the stars were winking into view one by one. Only a strip of orange painted by the sun’s fire lit the eastern horizon. When she squinted at the mountain in the dusk, she had the queer sensation that she was being watched. Then she saw it.

There was someone standing on the tallest peak.

A feeling of dread blossomed in her stomach.

“You’ve grown more pale, if that were possible,” the king said in a half-joking manner.

“That mountain isn’t protecting you,” she said. There was no direct sunlight to glint off the leaf-shaped armor. More and more spots appeared on the mountain, rising like ants coming out of a hill. She gripped his arm in concern. “They’ll attack you tonight. Can you see them? Gahalatine is already here.”

CHAPTER TWO

Lord of the Distant Isles

The tranquility of the oasis was shattered in moments.

Trynne was humbled by how quickly her warning had been heeded. King Sunilik had summoned his captains instantly, ordering them to bring Chandleer’s defenders rushing to the palace. Although she saw fear in Sunilik’s eyes, he did not panic; rather, he began to rearrange the defenses with a steady, confident voice.

“And Samrao,” the king said to his servant after sending his captains off with their orders, “bring Sureya to me. These two must escape before Gahalatine arrives.”

“It will be done,” Samrao said with a hasty bow. The palace staff moved like a hive of disturbed ants, running to and fro in confusion. Sunilik paced on the veranda, gazing at the darkening mountain as it disappeared into blackness.

“I have little hope in this affair,” the king confided to Trynne. “No other ruler has withstood the Lord of the Distant Isles, save one.” He gave her a knowing look. “Your king.”

Trynne shook her head. “We did not withstand him well,” she answered. “The greater part of our army was wounded or slain. If you could have seen the field—” She stopped herself abruptly, not wanting to say more.

He looked at her from beneath lowered brows. “You speak as if you were there, my lady.”

It had been an unintentional slip. Only her queen knew that she was the Painted Knight, the soldier who had joined Kingfountain’s army in the Battle of Guilme to help protect the king. She did not wish to lie to King Sunilik, but she did not feel ready to impart the full truth either.

His eyes narrowed more and then he nodded. “Say no more, my lady. I will not pry secrets from you.”

A tall man wearing a bronze breastplate and gripping a curved broadsword strode up to King Sunilik. The man, who was not quite middle-aged, towered over the king. “Master, I’ve left but a small force guarding the fountain before the palace. You wish for the rear gardens to be defended?”

“Indeed,” Sunilik said. “See that your men are positioned along the upper and lower gardens.” Then he turned to Trynne. “What would you advise?”

Once again, his deference startled her. “When we were attacked by Gahalatine, we were startled to discover that his warriors could . . . fly. Perhaps that’s not the right word, but they could leap like insects and nearly hover in the air. Walls are not a protection.”

Sunilik’s eyes widened. “The Bhikhu. Then we have even less time than I feared.”

“The what?” Trynne asked.

Sunilik clenched his fists and started to pace. “I had heard rumors of his alliance with the Bhikhu. They have the power you speak of. When he was driven from Imperial City as a young man, they say he sought refuge among the Bhikhu. That he became the ruler of their distant isle. You must away, Lady Tryneowy. You cannot be found here. Where is Samrao?”

Trynne felt her anxiety increase. She had never heard of the Bhikhu before, but she’d seen Gahalatine’s men soar through the air. As she gazed back at the lights shining in the waters of the fountains, she noticed more of those strange tall trees again.

“My lord?” she asked, her eyes following one of the long trunks up into the sky. “Can your soldiers climb those trees?”

He turned and looked at her, then shot his captain a look. “Captain Ashok?”

The tall commander frowned. “Everyone can. We’ve all climbed the palm trees since we were children.”

Sunilik smiled broadly. “Indeed. You are suggesting we hide soldiers amidst the fronds—”

“With bows or something else so they can strike from a distance,” Trynne finished for him.

“Captain Ashok, see it done,” Sunilik said.

Moments later, Samrao appeared in the doorway with a young woman dressed in the wrapped skirts and gauzy veils Trynne had seen the females in the palace wearing. This girl was dark skinned and dark haired, and elegant tattoos twined around her hands and forearms.

“Piya!” the girl cried out, rushing up to Sunilik and embracing him.

He clutched his daughter tightly, his brow furrowing into wrinkles of worry. “Sureya, this is Tryneowy Kiskaddon. You must go with her. Gahalatine is coming this very night.”

“But how can I leave you, Piya?” the girl said with raw emotion. “I will stand with you. What happens to you will happen to me!”

Sunilik looked to be in great pain. He cupped his daughter’s cheek, half-hidden by the veil. “I will bear what happens to Chandleer much better if I know you are safe. We must hurry, my daughter.”

The girl was distraught, but Trynne could tell she was mustering her courage. She pulled away from her father, stood silently for a moment, and then nodded. “I will obey you, Piya. Though I would rather stay.”

“You must go, child,” Sunilik said. “Samrao, let us go to the fountain. Captain Ashok—see to the defenses.”

“Yes, Master.”

They walked briskly through the doors into the palace. Servants were hurrying from room to room, and soldiers wearing turbans and carrying shields on their backs jogged through the visitors’ hall in columns from the front of the palace. The squawks of strange, colorful birds added to the confusion. Trynne was anxious to be gone.

“Have your king’s spies had any success in locating your father?” Sunilik asked her as they marched through the palace.

“None at all,” Trynne answered worriedly. It brought back a memory she would as soon forget. It was she who had found her father’s severed hand in the grove in the woods outside of Ploemeur.

It had still been wearing the invisible ring that had marked him as the protector of Brythonica, Trynne’s mother’s duchy. That ring now graced the hand of Captain Staeli, whom her father had chosen as the new protector before his disappearance. The captain was also the man Trynne had put in charge of training the Oath Maidens in Averanche.

Despite the murmurs about his strange disappearance, the world believed Owen Kiskaddon had been abducted at the Battle of Guilme. Only Trynne and a few others knew the truth, that someone had summoned him to the grove by magic and then violently attacked him. The Fountain-blessed hunter they had brought to the grove to track him had found no trail.

“It is a shame, truly. Thank you for coming to see my daughter to safety. I owe Kingfountain a debt I cannot easily repay.” He added in a melancholy tone, “I will miss this oasis,” gazing back at the great hall of the palace. “It has been in my family for several generations. But what the Fountain gives us, it can then take away.”

Samrao, who had preceded them out the door, came rushing back to them, his eyes wide with panic, his chin quivering with fear. “Master!” he choked out. “He’s here!”

They all stopped in their tracks. Samrao pointed, his arm trembling violently, to the front door. “He’s at the fountain!”

“Who? Gahalatine?” the king demanded.

Samrao nodded in abject terror.

Trynne felt Fountain magic surge through her. Someone had uttered “ekluo,” the word of power that disarmed other magics. Distance limited the word’s power, but she felt she was near the epicenter of its scope. The glowing stones in the palace dimmed, and shrieks of terror began to fill the air.

Trynne watched as the main doors of the palace were wrenched open. Her heart was beating violently in her chest, but the magic of the word of power had bypassed her. One of her own gifts from the Fountain, one that her father shared, made it impossible for other magics to affect her or those who stood near her.

“I need a veil,” Trynne whispered to Sunilik. Large beads of sweat had popped up on his furrowed brow. He made a quick gesture to Sureya, who removed her own veil and hastily covered Trynne with it. Though Trynne could sense the invisible ley line just beyond the door, running east to west, she was not close enough to invoke its power to take them away. It was too late to get any closer.

Gahalatine entered the palace.

Sureya cowered behind Trynne as the Overking of Chandigarl strode into the hall. Trynne hadn’t expected to encounter him on this visit, and it made her knees tremble with fear. She recognized his size and bearing, having witnessed his meeting with King Drew after the disastrous Battle of Guilme. He was not wearing battle armor this time, but a fancy knee-length tunic that was more suitable for Chandleer than her own garb. The collar was open, revealing the three leather straps around his neck. Just as she remembered, one was strung with a claw or fang, another with a circular metal device, and the last with a ring. Gahalatine was nicked with scars from a multitude of battles, and his dark hair looked almost like quills. His beard was trimmed close. He was remarkably handsome.

There was a huge, cavernous supply of Fountain magic inside him that radiated from him with intensity. He was flanked by a Wizr, not Rucrius—the Wizr who had visited King Drew’s council in Kingfountain and almost drowned the city by diverting the river—but another man with a sallow face and a pointed beard and darkened pockmarks across his cheekbones.

The Wizr pointed his staff at Sunilik and murmured something to Gahalatine.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Gahalatine marched up to Sunilik boldly. There were no guards with him, but he didn’t look the least bit concerned about his safety.

“Lord Sunilik,” Gahalatine said in a wary tone. He offered a polite bow of his head. When Trynne had last heard him speak, his voice had boomed like thunder. He was much taller than the ruler he faced and only half his age, but he had the presence and bearing of a man accustomed to being respected and obeyed. Trynne felt Gahalatine’s magic begin to creep into the room, spilling out of him like slow syrup. She was standing near enough that she felt it too, but it split around her like a wave around a rock, not able to come near.

“Welcome to Chandleer Oasis,” Sunilik said in a husky but controlled tone. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Would you care for a drink? I have a keg of Atabyrion uskebeaghe I bought from a Genevese merchant for special occasions.”

A smile twisted the corners of Gahalatine’s mouth. “You choose an interesting language to speak, Lord Sunilik. I had expected to address you in Hunjab.”

“We can if you prefer, of course,” Sunilik said offhandedly. “I speak it equally well. Have you come to enjoy the bathing pools, then?”

Trynne was impressed by the king’s coolheaded response, which earned him another smile from Gahalatine. “I came seeking a glimpse of your daughter, Sureya. I hear she is quite beautiful. I also understand that you are Fountain-blessed. Did any of your three daughters inherit the gift?”

As he asked the question, Trynne sensed the subtle press of his will. He was testing Sunilik’s power, measuring him, prodding him. Trynne noticed that Sunilik’s fingers, still clasped behind his back, were digging into his own skin as if to repel the intrusive act.

“Alas, none of my three daughters have demonstrated aptitude as yet. My wife, Anupa, is not Fountain-blessed, and as you know, it does not always pass to the children.”

“Where is Sureya?” Gahalatine asked, forcing another flex of his will on Sunilik. But because Trynne was standing nearby, it could not affect him.

“Well, to come to that point directly,” Sunilik said, rocking on his heels a bit. “Since receiving your esteemed emissary”—he nodded to the Wizr standing at Gahalatine’s shoulder—“I made arrangements to send my daughter to the court of Kingfountain.”

Trynne was impressed by his bluff. He hadn’t lied—he’d simply chosen not to reveal that his daughter was still standing there in the room.

A strange look crossed Gahalatine’s face. There was anger there, certainly, but it was mixed with admiration. “You sent her to Kingfountain?” he repeated. He let out his breath in a chuff. “The one place I cannot follow her,” he added in a low voice. He looked shrewdly at Sunilik. “Is Sureya Fountain-blessed?” he asked in a commanding voice. The power behind the words sent a pulse through Trynne’s mind and she almost wanted to confess that she, herself, was Fountain-blessed. But the magic could not make her, nor could it affect Sunilik in her presence.

“As I said,” Sunilik responded simply, inclining his head, “she has not, as yet, shown the aptitude. We are a small kingdom, my lord, well beneath the dignity of your esteemed presence.”

Gahalatine’s expression grew impatient. “I had hoped she would be,” he said matter-of-factly. “I cannot always trust my advisors”—he gave a scolding look to his Wizr—“to be completely candid with me, and I often verify their reports with my own eyes. Well, if Sureya is visiting Kingfountain, I will have the honor of meeting her soon enough. I will give her your fatherly regards. She may not be what I came here to find, but you, sir, have more than impressed me. You’ve run your kingdom in a capable and compassionate manner. You have a reputation for integrity and honor. But I have greater use for your abilities in Chandigarl. I will leave a capable man to rule the oasis in your place. But your wife will be brought to you, and you will live together in luxury you cannot imagine.” He flashed Sunilik a cunning smile before turning to his Wizr. “Take him to the Forbidden Court.”

“As you command, my lord,” the Wizr said. He withdrew a cylindrical object, something like a capped scroll case, from his belt and then reached out and touched Sunilik’s arm. The two of them instantly vanished, as if blotted out of existence. They were not standing on the ley line at all.

There were gasps from the assembled witnesses. Worried voices began to titter in the semidarkened hall as Gahalatine stood there, brooding, gazing at the spot where the two men had stood. She felt his magic begin to seep out of him again as he turned and faced the large hall. She almost didn’t dare to breathe, wondering how she had escaped his notice thus far. Slowly, she reached back and squeezed Sureya’s hand.

“Please, do not fear for your lives,” Gahalatine said, holding up his hand. “I do not seek vengeance on this place. Go about your work. Obey your masters. When I come to a defeated kingdom, I normally find the people in squalor.” He turned as he spoke, his back now to Trynne and Sureya. If she were a poisoner, this would have been her opportunity to assassinate him. The temptation struck her suddenly, keenly, but she shoved it back.

Never take a life unawares or out of revenge.

It was one of the five oaths she had taken to become an Oath Maiden. The Wizr Myrddin had warned her that she would be tempted to violate the oaths. Adhering to them had given her great power and access to the wellspring of the Fountain’s magic, but breaking them would bring grievous consequences.

“But I see that you have been treated fairly. There are no hovels or hunger in this place. You have truly made the desert bloom. It is a notable accomplishment. So far you have had a benevolent master. And you will have another in his stead. I give you my word.”

As he finished his speech, he turned around completely and now faced Trynne and Sureya. In the darkness, he squinted a bit, looking at her more closely, and her heart began to clench with dread.

“You look familiar,” he said. “You are not from these parts; your skin is too pale. You are from the West? Take off that veil. Have we met?”

Trynne didn’t know what to say. She bobbed a curtsy, feeling vulnerable.

“My lord, might I entreat you kindly to speak to the captain of the guard?” Samrao said in a diffident tone, deliberately interrupting the exchange. “Captain Ashok has orders from my master to defend the oasis, but I wish to avoid bloodshed.”

“Yes, bring him to me,” Gahalatine said, giving Samrao a stern look. “Let me judge his character before deciding to replace him or not. He was loyal to Sunilik?”

“We all were,” Samrao said with a humble bow.

Trynne took Sureya’s wrist and whispered the word of power that would make them invisible. She was wrapped up in the magic instantly and felt her supply of it start to slowly drain. The princess gripped her hand back, almost hard enough to hurt, and Trynne led the way around the columns and furniture. They needed to get around Gahalatine so she could access the ley line.

The servants who had crowded into the hall to hear the speech could not see them, and a few bumped into Trynne, only to stare in surprise at the seemingly blank space before them. Many of them were visibly relieved, their countenances changed by Gahalatine’s words. His magic had convinced them of his goodness and fairness, and now that the threat of destruction had passed, they were resigned to his victory.

“Who was that young woman?” she heard Gahalatine ask Samrao. “Where is she?”

“My . . . my lord?” Samrao asked in confusion.

“The one who was standing right there? Where did she go?”

“Whom do you speak of?” Samrao said. “The room is full of servants.”

Gahalatine started after her, pushing his way through the crowd. He was clearly drawn to her use of the magic, which he could no doubt sense in the cavernous room. Since he was Fountain-blessed, he could follow her. Sureya, whom she was still pulling along, bumped into her, but Trynne didn’t slow her pace.

When she finally glanced back, Gahalatine was looking in her direction, his eyes livid, his mouth pursed in a determined frown. She watched him lift the metal circle dangling from one of the leather cords around his neck. It was hollow in the middle, but the outside was covered in little spokes, like starbursts that went at odd angles from the round. The opening in the middle was the size of a forefinger and thumb connected into a circle. He picked up the medallion by some of the pointed ends and brought it up to his left eye as he walked.

Trynne felt the ley line just in front of her and tugged on Sureya’s arm to hurry them both.

“Stop!” Gahalatine commanded. “I know of you. Stop!” His magic blasted at her in a hot spurt, but it rolled off her effortlessly. She knew then that he was looking at her through the hole in his strange medallion. He could see her. His eyes blazed with blue fire, and his cheek muscle twitched with desperation. He tried to reach out his hand toward her, but he wasn’t close enough.

 

“Kennesayrim,” Trynne uttered, holding fast to Sureya’s arm as they both stepped onto the ley line and lurched away.