The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(113)
“Very well, what would you ask me?”
“According to the legends, he fell in love with a Lady of the Fountain. She did not requite his love. He taught her all his tricks, the words of power, and then she imprisoned him in a cave of stone. It was after that that King Andrew was defeated and the Wizr set went missing.”
“What is your question?” she asked, tilting her head and giving him an encouraging smile.
“Well, my question is whether Myrddin is still alive. I think he’s trapped in the grove in the forest, with the silver dish that makes it rain. Now that King Andrew has returned, does it not coincide that Myrddin must return as well?”
Sinia seemed to have anticipated his question. She did not look surprised by it at all. “He is trapped beneath the stones. Some of my father’s ancestors tried to move the stones, but no team of horses was strong enough. The boulders are too massive. Even the Fountain’s magic is not strong enough to lift them.”
Owen looked at her with a smirk of self-confidence.
“What are you thinking?” she asked him.
“You mean you cannot read my mind?” he teased.
She shook her head. “I’ve never had that talent.”
“I think I know a way it can be opened,” he replied. “It’s one of the reasons I brought the king with me to Ploemeur. Have you had any visions that say we shouldn’t release Myrddin?”
She looked curious and interested. “None at all.”
Owen sat up. “Do you think he’ll be angry for being imprisoned so long? If he’s even alive?”
“Oh, I know he’s alive,” Sinia said. “He’s trapped between the mortal world and the Deep Fathoms. He does not age where he lives. If we succeed in saving him, he could bring back knowledge that was lost long ago.”
Owen had been considering it. “I’m hoping he would be grateful to those who freed him.”
“Wizrs have been known to be generous,” Sinia said.
He took her hand in his and helped her to her feet. They stood at the edge of the beach, staring at the crashing waves, hand in hand.
“Shall we?” he asked eagerly, nodding toward the rush of waves.
Sinia’s smile was all the coaxing he needed.
EPILOGUE
The day was cool and mild, the air thick with the fragrance of trees. A few ravens croaked overhead from the branches as Owen, Sinia, and Drew carefully made their way through the maze toward the sound of trickling water.
After passing the gorse, they reached the stone plinth to which the silver bowl was fixed with a chain. Memories clashed inside Owen’s mind—a battle had raged in this place where he had defeated Marshal Roux and become the protector of these woods. This time he felt safe and confident as he walked into the hallowed grove. He was welcome here—the forest recognized him as its new master.
“What is this place?” Drew asked, staring at the massive boulders lodged together against the backdrop of a stony hill. The oak tree’s haggard branches were twisted at crooked angles. The leaves had grown back, and were draped with clumps of mistletoe that caught Owen’s eye. He sensed magic in the tree. Just as before, water was coming from its roots, trickling down the lichen-speckled boulders.
“A place of ancient magic,” Sinia answered, her voice hushed to match the solemnity of the place. “The Montforts have been its guardians for centuries.”
Drew gazed up at the tree in awe, his expression wise beyond his years. “It feels familiar. Have I been here before?”
“There are many memories in this place,” Sinia answered, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Owen hefted the large shield and slung his arm through the strap. The shield was emblazoned with the sigil he had seen throughout the palace. It was of two faces, opposing each other. It was a mark of the Wizr board, Sinia had explained to him—a sign that Brythonica was one of the places set on the board to hold in balance the barrier between water and land.
“When I pour the water on the table,” Owen said, taking a few steps forward before looking back. “There will be a loud peal of thunder. Be ready for it. Then a storm will rage around us. It cannot hurt you while we are near. Don’t be afraid.”
Drew’s eyes were deep and serious, and a little afraid, but he nodded with the encouragement. Owen glanced at Sinia, meeting her gaze to see if there was any look of warning. She said nothing to encourage or discourage him.
Owen hiked up to the edge of the table and then picked up the bowl. He felt the power of the Fountain flow through him. It was like trudging through a river, feeling the force of its current push him from behind. He was not trying to walk crosswise against the current, but with it. The magic swelled and strained inside him.
Reaching down, Owen carried the bowl to the small waterfall streaming down the face of the boulder beneath the tree. He placed it under the flow and watched it fill and then brought it carefully back down onto the plinth, the chain rattling as it scraped along the rocks. Excitement churned inside of Owen. His plan would work. He was certain of it.
Standing over the plinth, he turned the bowl over and splashed the water onto it. Then he set the bowl down and retrieved the shield just as the sky cracked open with thunder, sending a percussive boom that made Drew flinch and cover his ears. Just as Owen reached his betrothed and his king, the rain began to pound down on them, coming in fat, heavy drops that immediately turned into a torrent. Owen held up the shield and Sinia and Drew sheltered beneath it. The boy’s eyes were wide with fear as the storm slammed into them, the rain turning into sleet and then rock-sized hail.