The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)(68)

Reaching out, she put her hand on his shoulder.

He gave her a sad smile and then nodded. “I think we are safe.”

They left the cave together and joined the others.

“So where are you bound?” Martin asked when he saw them.

“You can’t go back to the queen. When you disappeared like that, snuffed and vanished like a conjurer’s trick, she was all too keen to find you. The whole army is on the look for ye. I can get you a boat if you need one. The Evnissyen are loyal to me.”

“The question is,” Fallon asked, “why are you still loyal to her?”

Martin’s face scrunched up at the question. “You are young, lad.” He bared his teeth in a grimace. “You don’t understand the pull of family.”

Fallon’s face became intense and serious. “I think I do.”

“So long as there is a spark of hope—a single ember burning in the ashes, the faintest puff of smoke—that my granddaughter can be saved, I will cling to it. The Myriad Ones have her, lad. It’s plain enough to see. There was a time, years back, when she was an innocent. We cannot return to the past. No traveler can. But so long as I have memories of her then, it makes me determined to see that cursed hetaera Leering smashed into rubble.”

Fallon pursed his lips and nodded. “I see that you cannot be swayed from your path.”

“Aye, lad. That Leering was taken somewhere. And I mean to find it.”

Trynne admired his courage, his unwillingness to accept that his granddaughter was lost forever. Maybe it was a foolish hope. But it was the kind of hope that she herself had clung to after her father’s disappearance. Now her father stood by her side—evidence that some hopes were fulfilled.

“I had wondered if we could persuade you to join us,” Trynne said. “This war is going to destroy all the kingdoms. Dieyre knows it, but he still won’t back down. It’s not too late to escape, Martin. You can come with us to Muirwood and leave this place.” She hoped he would say yes. She would like to introduce him to Captain Staeli.

Martin sniffed and brushed his forearm across his nose.

“Muirwood after all, is it? The sun rises and sets there it seems. I do appreciate the offer, lass. You may not be maston in name, but you have a maston’s heart. And I miss that. But my duty is here. I was given the choice to abandon my granddaughter before and I wouldn’t. I still won’t.”

“I’m glad we met, Martin Evnissyen,” Trynne said.

“Aye, lass. Me too. You remind me of someone else. She had your spunk. You don’t look much alike, but you still remind me of her.

She led the mastons to safety, to another land across the sea.

They’ll return someday to reclaim the ruins we leave behind. But be careful. The sheriff of Mendenhall has refused to join the queen and skulks around the grounds looking for mastons to kill.”

“Thank you. I don’t know if this will help,” Fallon said, gripping the hunter’s shoulder. “But Dieyre said his wife was building another abbey, one that is concealed somewhere in these mountains.

Perhaps that is where the Leering can be found.”

Martin nodded. “Then Deven will help me find it.”

A ray of sunlight pierced the trees over the horizon and stabbed Trynne’s eyes. The new day had finally dawned and she felt hope spark inside her.

She touched Fallon’s arm. “It’s time to go.”

He looked at the tiny speck of sunlight. There was a sad look on his face, as if he was sorry that Martin wouldn’t be joining them.



Then he removed the tunic marking him as part of Dieyre’s army and so did her father. They handed them over to Martin.

“Farewell,” Fallon told the man.

“I’m not very keen on good-byes,” Martin said, chuffing. “But I bid you one all the same.”

Fallon brought out the Tay al-Ard. A slight breeze ruffled his hair. His eyes were wells of emotion, but he grinned at her as he held out the device, nodding for her to take hold of it. She clasped it, her hand touching his. Owen placed his hand on her arm, catching on quickly.

The magic yanked them away.

They emerged at the crooked oak tree whose branches were so thick and heavy they sagged to the ground.

They had also appeared amidst a small camp of sleeping soldiers wearing ragged and filthy tunics. A small cookfire at the center of camp was full of cinders, and the makeshift spit straddling it had been stripped of all but the last charred bones.

“What in the blazes!” said the sentry, who had seen them appear out of nothingness. “Get up! It’s them! Up!”

At least a dozen men slept near the tree. Suddenly blankets whipped up across the camp as the rousing soldiers moved, groping in the semidarkness for their swords. Fallon was the first to act, kicking one of them in the head as he struggled to sit up. Trynne and her father unsheathed their weapons as the small camp came alive, responding to the frantic urging of the lone sentry. There were curses and oaths and Trynne found three men charging her and her father in moments, filthy battered swords at the ready. She blocked an attack with one of her swords, clubbed the man on the head with the hilt, and then whipped her blade around to stab another man as he rushed at her. Her magic rushed to defend her, but her father moved in and struck down the third man.

One of the men had throwing axes, and she watched him train his eye on her as he hurled one of his weapons. She stepped back and the axe whirled just past her, the blade sticking into the rough bark of the oak tree. The man scowled as he hefted another and threw it. She dodged that one too and it sailed past her and bounced off the trunk. The man readied his third axe, coming closer before he threw it at her.