The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)

Smiling in spite of herself, she nearly gave him a hug. “Thank you, Myrddin. Thank you for coming back.”

“Tsk, it was the Fountain that sent me. The need was greater here this time. It does not abandon the faithful.” He gave her a pointed look, and she felt her insides quiver with joy.

“So both of you will try to stop me?” Morwenna scoffed. “You have no idea the power I can summon. The land exists only because the sea permits it! The Deep Fathoms have always been here, but they were bound and tethered. Restrained. I will break every bond.

Water is the source of life. And of death. I will drown the world. You cannot stop me!”

Myrddin’s eyes squinted as he gazed at Morwenna. “I cannot defeat her,” he said in a low voice to Trynne. “Our power is equal.

She knows this. I can counter what she does, but only until I run out of strength.”

“What must I do?” Trynne asked.

“You are an Oath Maiden. Do what your memories tell you.”

Morwenna hooked her fingers and swirled her arms, a sick grin on her face. Suddenly, the huge ropes of seaweed that littered the beach inside the shield rose and flew at Trynne and Myrddin. While Trynne immediately drew her swords and began slicing the tangled seaweed as it tried to enwrap and tangle her, Myrddin twirled his staff, drawing the water out of the skeins so they dropped limply to the beach. Morwenna’s face flashed with fury again. Her stores were dropping too, but Trynne sensed the Wizr was right—they were evenly matched.

One of the ropes of seaweed wrapped around Trynne’s leg to yank her down, but she felt the magic die and the rope go limp. It trembled and throbbed, the magic pulsing inside its orange-brown layers. It was trying to obey Morwenna and entangle Trynne. Yet it could not.

And she understood why. Morwenna’s deceptions could not affect her. Neither could her power.

The water had receded again, but it was drawing up its strength for another rush. Trynne felt snapping sensations under her skin, the breaking of ley lines. The Hidden Vulgate’s dark magic had an even larger scope than she’d feared. Myrddin’s face twisted into a scowl.

“You’ll not escape death,” Morwenna said. “We will all die in this place. You broke my Tay al-Ard, and I will break your staff! None of us shall flee. We will be buried beneath a mountain of water. I summon it!”

The sea was swelling with her every word.

“Not yet, lass,” Myrddin said, shaking his head. Trynne sensed his magic building up to defend them. She sensed his knees paining him, his shoulder throbbing.

Suddenly Morwenna staggered backward and the wave collapsed, losing its energy too soon. Sweat dripped from Myrddin’s nose.

“I can’t hold her forever, sister,” he said coaxingly to Trynne. “It is you who must defeat her. Not I.”

“I know your weakness, old man!” Morwenna scoffed. “I know why you keep to the shadows. I’ve read The Hidden Vulgate. I read how Nimu? enslaved you with a kystrel. How she tricked you into that cave and sealed it with the Fault Staff. Men have ever yielded to desire above all else. You’re afraid of me, Maderos. You’ve always been afraid of how I can make you feel.”

Trynne felt power behind her words, power that was unseen, yet just as dangerous and deadly as the storms Morwenna was summoning.

“I have the kystrel’s taint,” Morwenna purred. “Don’t you wish to see it?”

Trynne felt Myrddin’s shield waver. He closed his eyes, gripping his crooked staff with both hands, pressing it into the sand deeply, as if he were driving it into the heart of the earth. His face was dripping with sweat, but his cheeks were calm. His shoulders drooped.

“Leave him alone,” Trynne said, standing in front of Myrddin.

“Everyone will suffer,” the poisoner snarled. “You have always been so faithful. Look what it has gotten you. Look what it has done for your people. The Fountain is not alive. It is not benevolent. It is cruel and murderous and violent! It would drown a million people to spite a handful. We are right to fear it.”

Trynne continued walking forward, closing the gap between her and the poisoner. “You speak lies, Morwenna. You may have grown to believe them, but they are still lies.”

“Are they?” Morwenna challenged. “Why would the Fountain have let me destroy the Forbidden Court? I was the one who summoned the storm. I destroyed half the city. And the Fountain let me! It did not intercede. The East Kingdoms will never be grand again. Even if you could kill me, and I don’t think you have the heart to do it, they will all die anyway. I kissed Gahalatine, Trynne.

Pretending to be you, I kissed him. My kiss is deadly.”

The words stabbed into Trynne, especially since she sensed they were true.

“There is no cure for its poison,” Morwenna continued. “And when he dies, the East Kingdoms die with him. The Fountain let me do this! It obeys whoever forces it to obey. It is a matter of will. And my will is stronger than yours. Than both of yours combined!”

Trynne saw the sea beginning to collect again, preparing for another onslaught. Myrddin’s shield was buckling. She reached out with her magic as she approached the poisoner. Morwenna’s weakness was the same as any Wizr’s. She was strong and hardened by training. She was more than a match for Trynne. But her weakness was her neck. If she could not breathe, her powers would fail her. Could Trynne cut off her head as she had done to Rucrius? She wanted to kill her out of vengeance. But she had sworn an oath never to do that. She listened for permission from the Fountain.

All was silent in her mind.

She was supposed to capture Morwenna, then. Bring her to justice at Kingfountain.

Trynne dropped her twin swords. The two blades embedded in the sand. She kept walking down the slope of packed sand, weaponless. The swords would only kill Morwenna. There had to be another way.

Morwenna’s lip curled into a sneer. She drew one of her daggers. Wet poison glistened on the blade.





CHAPTER THIRTY


Drowning


Morwenna’s eyes flashed and a pulse of magic seared at Trynne. It had no effect. Then sand exploded from the shore, sending up a blinding haze of stinging pebbles and grit that whirled around in a vortex. Trynne walked through it, shielding her eyes. She could no longer see Morwenna, but she could still sense her. The poisoner was retreating deeper into the ruins of Leoneyis.

Trynne trudged forward, sensing the barnacle-encrusted pillars that rose around her, the bones of the ancient kingdom. The wind died down, giving her relief from the pelting sand. She couldn’t see Morwenna anymore, but there was no mistaking where she was concealing herself—she’d hidden behind some of the broken fragments of rock. Trynne saw the tide still stretching out, building up for another colossal charge. She had to hurry, had to defeat Morwenna quickly enough to stop the surge. Glancing back, she saw Myrddin on his knees, still gripping the gnarled staff in his hands, head bent low. But she also saw others flocking to the beach, the citizens of Ploemeur coming out to see what was going on. She wanted to scream at them to flee, to get to higher ground. They were arriving in droves.

“I’ve waited for this,” Morwenna taunted, her voice ghosting behind the rocks. “For the chance to face the Painted Knight myself.”

Despite all the seaweed and encrustations, Trynne could see the carved face on the rock—as ancient and decayed as the ruins itself.

“I do not seek revenge against you, Morwenna,” Trynne said. “I arrest you by command of the king. Your brother, whom you betrayed.”