The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)

The horns and trumpets of Ploemeur were still bleating when the waves rushed in. It was already high tide, and Trynne watched mutely as the moonlight revealed the monstrous series of waves that had engulfed the piers and razed the shores. Most of the homes of Ploemeur had been built on higher ground. The desolation of Leoneyis had persuaded the ancient rulers of Brythonica to take certain precautions.

There was a certain irony to Trynne’s situation—to fulfill her duty to protect her realm from floods, she had summoned one in an act of defense. But it was the Fountain itself that had given her the idea. While her mother undoubtedly knew the word of power that could have caused an earthquake, Trynne did not, but Rucrius had unwittingly brought her the very tool she’d needed to do it.

She shivered as she watched the ocean rush across the horizon from the balcony window, surrounded by the guards who had witnessed her confrontation with the Wizrs. Shops that had stood on the lowland for generations were completely submerged. The cracking noise of snapping timbers and debris was followed by screams and cries of terror from the people of Ploemeur. Trynne squeezed the staff, hardly able to bear watching the devastation she had unleashed. This was the power of a Wizr. It horrified her.

“The ships,” Marshal Soeur exclaimed. Trynne looked up and saw Gahalatine’s fleet, lit up with lamps and torches, bobbing and bucking as the waters dragged them into the coast of Brythonica. Trynne stared helplessly as the ships were crushed against the rocks. One of the massive treasure ships struck the Glass Beach head on, wedging into the sandy surf, its hull breached and torn apart. It was the worst series of shipwrecks that Brythonica had ever experienced. The shrieks of the doomed warriors filled the night sky.

Trynne’s heart wrenched with compassion. These warriors had come to defeat her people, but they’d done so on the orders of their emperor. They deserved a better fate than this.

Too many had already died.

“Thierry,” Trynne said, nearly sobbing as her emotions overwhelmed her.

“Yes, my lady?” he whispered, staring awestruck at the wreckage below. One of the ships had rolled upside down before crashing into the shore.

“Summon all the people,” she said. “We must search for survivors. We must bring them into our homes.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “All of us.”

“But what about the water?” Thierry replied. “It will take days for it to subside!”

She remembered how Rucrius had overturned the river outside Kingfountain. How he had used his staff to destroy the ancient Wizr set. Her mother had summoned the excess water into the sanctuary of Our Lady.

Trynne shook her head. “No, it will not. Mother taught me how to calm the sea.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Wreckage




The rising sun revealed the full extent of the devastating wreckage. Trynne was exhausted from the all-night labor. Not only had she pushed her body to the limits of its endurance, she had used nearly all her reserves of Fountain magic to drain the floodwaters from the city. There were carrion birds circling overhead, as well as flocks of screeching gulls. So many had perished in the night. But even more had survived.

She walked along the beach of sea glass, now strewn with crates, debris, and broken planks of teak wood from the treasure ships. It would take weeks to clean up the mess. The horizon was full of ships, the ships of Brythonica, which were still rescuing survivors who had fallen into the water.

The receding tide had made the rescue effort easier. Dinghies ferried the survivors to the shore, where they were wrapped up in blankets, fed soup and berries provided by Trynne’s generous people, and taken to shelters to rest. The able-bodied soldiers of Gahalatine’s army had immediately joined in the rescue efforts, working side by side with Trynne’s knights to save as many as possible.

Trynne had hidden Rucrius’s staff in the waters of a palace fountain. It radiated so much magic that she couldn’t hide it anywhere else without it being discovered, and she didn’t want it to be stolen. Horrified though she was by its magic, it had been the means of saving Ploemeur. She rubbed her weary arms as she trudged through the sand and debris. The foodstuffs that had been stored aboard the vessels were likely all ruined, but they were salvaging whatever they could. They would need extra stores to help feed everyone.

Thierry marched up to her, winded from a long walk. His sleeve was torn and his face was haggard. He’d been helping all night as well.

“My lady,” he said with a wheeze. “Come quickly. We found him.”

“Who?” she asked in concern.

“The Wizr who attacked you,” he answered. “He was among the survivors.”

Trynne looked at him in confusion. “He didn’t return to Chandigarl?”

Thierry shook his head. “Apparently not. He was found comatose next to a corpse—a woman in very fine attire who looked to be of his own race. They’re both unnaturally tall and pale, unlike the rest of the Chandigarli we’ve seen wash up on shore.”

“Take me there,” Trynne said. Then, turning to one of her captains, she gave orders for her people to continue clearing debris from the beach before the next tide came in late in the afternoon.

They walked together briskly, Thierry leading the way. “One of the soldiers brought a series of maps to me,” he confided as they went. “They had navigation charts that show the entire coastline of Brythonica, including the secret coves. There were even charts revealing the tides based on the moon phases of the year. They knew exactly when and where to strike. I do not know how they obtained such detailed maps, my lady. They were written in a foreign hand but show an intimacy with our seasons and borders that no foreigner should have been able to access.”

The implications sent a chill down Trynne’s back. “What you are saying is that the maps were copied from ours.”

Thierry nodded. “My lady, it implies there is a traitor among us.”

“The Espion don’t have any maps of Brythonica,” Trynne said. “They’ve never been allowed inside the duchy other than to deliver messages.” Though she hated to suspect him of something so ugly, Fallon had been raised in Ploemeur as a boy. He knew her people and had won their trust. He had also recently visited her. Another possibility was Morwenna. Hadn’t Trynne spied her copying something from the library? What had it been? Her mind struggled with the memory. Would the king’s sister have betrayed them?

Trynne’s mind shot to something Gahalatine had said to her in the oasis while trying to stop her.

I know of you.

That statement had troubled her. What did it mean? Had Gahalatine heard rumors about a Fountain-blessed girl at the court of Kingfountain? As far as Trynne knew, she and Morwenna were the only two. Had he heard of the poisoner or the duke’s daughter? What did it all mean? If Rucrius was captured, there was a possibility he could provide some much-needed answers to her questions.

“I hadn’t considered it being the Espion,” Thierry said. “The Genevese come here often enough. Surely they have created their own maps.”