The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)(71)

A few drops of water fell. Then it started to hail.

Huge chunks of ice began to plummet into the grove. They fell amidst the soldiers, who began to shout and wail in terror and panic.

Some tried to flee, only to be struck down by the apple-sized stones.

The storm buffeted the men of Glosstyr, knocking them down mercilessly. Some tried to cover their heads and seek shelter in the nearby woods.

Trynne felt the ice slamming into the ground all around her, but she was surprised to realize that none touched her. Then her father was at her side, shielding her body with his. He didn’t realize that their variety of Fountain magic protected them from the icy deluge.

He looked frightened and awed by the display—the way Trynne had felt the first time he had shown her the power of the grove. The ground was soon blanketed in white, the leaves of the oak tree stripped away. The storm seemed to last forever, but it finally ended, and sunlight glittered across the frozen grove.

Heaps of men lay scattered around. All their foes were down.

Trynne lifted herself up on her sore arms. The only noise in her throbbing ears was the sound of heavy breathing—hers and her father’s—and the trickling sound of the waterfall. She sensed no other life in the grove and she realized that the Fountain had slain all the men of Glosstyr.

Then the sweet trilling of birdsong filled the void, the hauntingly beautiful sound that never failed to move her after the devastation wrought by the grove’s storms. She sat up and Owen sat down, stunned at the chorus that swelled in the air. He stared at the oak tree that was no longer barren but full of a variety of birds, each singing a part of the melody. As they filled the sky with music, the buds of the oak tree regrew and suddenly it was complete again.

“There’s someone at the tree,” Owen said, looking keenly at it.

Trynne caught just the subtle shift of movement and then remembered Fallon’s warning.

“Don’t look at her,” she said. The grove felt wrong now, hostile.

“We must not look, or we’ll both forget who we are. That’s what happened to you before, Papa.”

The ice melted away, bathing the glen. Drips of water plopped from the ferns and bracken. The gateway back to Muirwood was open. She sensed it calling her, urging her to go back to Fallon, to be with him there. The pain in her heart was real and it hurt beyond her reckoning, but she had a duty to perform in Kingfountain. She could not fulfill her own wishes at that moment. Not when so much was at stake. Still, she was determined to bring Fallon back somehow and prayed she would not be too late. She and her father sat in the quiet damp, listening as the birdsong finished. And then the portal to Muirwood closed. She felt empty inside when it did.

“That was frightening,” Owen said, chuckling softly.

Trynne gazed at his expression and smiled. “The first time you came here, it was with a poisoner named Etayne. She almost died in the hail, but you shielded her too.”

Owen nodded with interest. “What’s our next move?”

“I guess that depends on what we see on the Wizr board.”

His brow wrinkled. “Wizr?”

“That’s right, you don’t know of it. I suppose they don’t play Wizr in that other world. You have Fallon’s pack. Open it and draw out the chest.”



She watched as her father did just that. Fishing through the pack again, she found the key that would open it.

When she unlocked it and lifted the lid, the first thing she saw was the note Fallon said he had left there. Her eyes fixed on it, pricking with heat. Owen gently withdrew it, staring at the paper. But her name was on the folded sheet, written by Fallon’s own hand.

Owen gave it to her and she held it in her lap a moment, not wanting to read it yet, unsure whether her heart could bear it.

“This is a game?” Owen asked, staring down at the confusion of pieces.

Trynne also looked at the board. Fear bloomed in her chest.

The game was nearly over.

There was a ley line from the grove to the palace in Ploemeur.

Trynne took her father there after they sipped from the silver dish, which they’d replenished at the waterfall, the water restoring their magic. She was invigorated and more determined than ever to defeat Morwenna. If only her father had his full memory going into this fight . . . She would hull the tree in an instant. But it would take time, and she sensed from the Fountain that she had little remaining.

So the tree would have to face its executioners later.

Though she was tempted to bring them straight to Kingfountain, they needed answers first. Answers that would be better found in Ploemeur. When she and her father appeared in the fountain, Owen looked bewildered by the drastic change of location. It was obvious he felt like a stranger in the palace where she had grown up. The pieces on the board had revealed much, but it was still cryptic. Drew was the black king. Morwenna the black Wizr. Both were at Kingfountain. The white king, her husband, Gahalatine, was also at Kingfountain. The white queen, Genny, was isolated in the North.

She saw herself and her father by themselves in the western portion of the board—two white knights. The army of pawns was no more.

What had happened to Captain Staeli? His piece was no longer on the board.

As they walked down the palace corridor in their filthy, battle-stained clothes, they were met with surprise by some of the servants, who were clearly thunderstruck to see them.