The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)(58)

He was clad in rough soldier’s garb, the dirty tunic of a knight from a different realm. The sigil on his chest was not that of Comoros, and the fabric was a dark red, the color of wine, with a black fringe. A sword was buckled to his waist, a dagger too, and his boots and pants were soiled with the mire of the wilderness. A chain hood was pulled down around his neck, revealing a mottled beard that was untamed and rugged.

Her fingers tightened against the stone as if she could claw her way through the rock to reach him. The Leerings linked them together. She felt a series of Leerings like a trail that connected the land between them. He was to the east and a little south.

She was about to speak, to call out to him, but his eyes locked on hers. He abruptly removed his hand from the stone and the connection between them snapped.

The pain of the separation was physical. Trynne clutched at her chest, feeling tears sting her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Fallon asked, wiping his mouth. He stared at her face in confusion.

Her throat was so thick, she could not speak. Awash in emotion, she struggled to breathe. She’d seen her father’s face. He was alive, that very moment, at another Leering. There was no look of recognition in his eyes when he saw her, but how could there be?

What had he seen but a disheveled, spider-bitten stranger?

“I saw him,” she gasped, panting, trembling.

“Who?” Fallon came around and dropped to one knee beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“My father,” she whispered, gazing into his face. She wasn’t sure whether to smile or sob.

Fallon’s eyes lit up with joy at the news. “Where is he?” he asked her fiercely.

She grazed her palm across the stone. “This one is connected to other Leerings. There’s a chain of them. I saw them in my mind.

He may be a day or two away from here, but I clearly saw him. He was in the wild, like we are. I saw him, Fallon!”

He pulled her into a hug and they savored the moment of discovery together. Her cheek pressed against his neck and she squeezed him hard, feeling gratitude swell inside her heart.

Fallon broke away first, but he kept his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. “It’s worth all the horrors of Dahomey if we can reach him. I’m not weary anymore.” He rose to his feet and then held out his hand to help her up. She accepted his help, nodding energetically. The morning intrusion by the spiders was now forgotten.

As they walked through the dense forest, Trynne wondered what she would say to her father when they met again. He wouldn’t remember her, although part of her was desperate to believe that he would. No, he would likely be distrustful at first, but she would find a way to earn his faith. Even if he didn’t believe her, she would use the Tay al-Ard to bring them all back to the ruins of Muirwood.



They had to get back to Ploemeur. The urgency of that thought squeezed her very bones. It made her determined to keep up with Fallon’s long stride.

The forest was thick and decaying. The trees gave off a foul stench and the underbrush was thick with scurrying rodents and snakes. They had quickly learned to march with sword in hand. The serpents shied away for the most part, but some hissed in challenge and barred the way.

She felt her power dripping away—the result of her instinctively using her Fountain magic to sense for dangers. But it was worth it if they could avoid deadly snakebites.

They stopped for food after finding another Leering and getting fresh water from it. There was no vision this time, but she could still sense the location of the next one. They checked the position of the Wizr board and saw the pieces were arrayed differently. The black queen had moved one square closer. Other pieces were moving in from the north side of the board, beginning to converge on the corner where Dieyre and her father were nestled.

The armies would clash within days.

The road kept them going east, but it was not well tended and they had seen no other travelers.

Sleeping in Dahomey, if you could call the fitful slumber that, wore away at them. It had become impossible to travel at night, for the road was heavily shrouded and was nearly invisible, and they dared not risk traveling by the light of torches. One remained awake while the other slept, but their bone-deep weariness forced them to change guard every few hours as best they could manage. They skulked in the woods and slept uncomfortably.

The next morning, they awoke to find they’d been attacked by another silent enemy. Scores of ticks had crawled inside their clothes and attached to their bodies to suck their blood. When the light revealed the infestation, they again marveled at the inhospitable woods.

“Nasty little beasts,” Fallon said in annoyance, squeezing one between his fingernails and plucking it out. “We’d best remove them all now before moving on. We’ll be sore all over if we don’t.”

They finished their ablutions separately before continuing down the overgrown trail hardly wide enough for a cart. During the journey, they spoke sporadically, both trying to preserve their strength while keeping a relentless pace. They spoke of their childhood in Ploemeur, of shared memories, and of the antics they’d engaged in as children—all of it utterly foreign to their current circumstances.

Fallon had always resented missing out on their parents’ adventures under the despotic rule of King Severn, but he admitted that their own struggles had thoroughly altered his views on the matter.

They planned to stop and rest once they reached the next Leering, but they had not come upon it yet and the day was fading fast. They trudged on silently. Trynne found herself wondering where they were on the board. How many squares had they crossed already? She wasn’t sure how vast Dahomey was. The terrain was rugged and the constant marching up and down the hills had grown tiresome.