The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)(35)

Three men strode down the corridor toward the audience hall. All three were Wizrs, and Trynne recognized the first among them. It was the Wizr Rucrius, who had almost destroyed Kingfountain by diverting its mighty river.

A tall man with very long pale hair and dark eyebrows, he wore an elegantly braided tunic that went down to his knees. An equally extravagant sword was belted to his waist. As he walked toward her, she noticed that the staff he clutched had a nick in it from where her father had attacked him with his sword. Rucrius looked confident and smug as he passed the fallen soldiers. One of the men tried to reach out and intercede, but he lacked the strength to rise.

As he approached, Trynne noticed that his eyes were glowing like a cat’s, reflecting the light of the palace’s lamps and torches. She shifted her gaze to the other Wizrs, whom she did not recognize. One had a black beard streaked with gray and a bald head. He had a menacing look. The third Wizr was younger, in his thirties perhaps. Clean-shaven like Rucrius, he wore very costly apparel with medallions and bracelets and a turban-like hat sewn with pearls.

Benjamin had rushed out the side door toward her chambers and had not yet returned. Another group of soldiers, including the aging marshal, yelled in challenge and rushed at the Wizrs.

Rucrius gave them a look of disdain as he began to whirl his staff. When it struck the first soldier, the man flipped over and struck the tile floor hard. Rucrius was a skilled warrior, and he used his weapon to clear away anyone who dared engage him. The other two Wizrs put their fingertips together and began muttering words of power.

Trynne sensed the ley lines knotting together and realized that they had come for her—they were trying to prevent her or anyone else who was Fountain-blessed from escaping.

The Brythonicans would not give up their daughter without a fight. More soldiers came forward to defend Trynne, who was momentarily stunned—she’d never done battle with one Wizr before, let alone three—and uncertain what to do. Rucrius extended his palm at the aging marshal, who suddenly froze, unable to swing his sword. He stood there, his muscles bulging, his eyes wide with terror as he was forced to hold his sword suspended over his head, unmoving.

Rucrius smirked at the older man as he passed him, closing the gap to Trynne even as more soldiers continued to charge at him. She could not believe this was happening. Then she saw Benjamin rush into the room, holding her twin swords.

“Enough of this foolishness!” Rucrius snapped impatiently. He brought his staff down on the tiles hard and the floor jolted. A huge crack split the floor from one end of the hall to the other, and the earth bucked, knocking everyone to the ground except for Trynne and the three Wizrs. She felt the magic from the earthquake, but it passed around her harmlessly.

Benjamin had fallen with the rest, stunned by the display of magic. But even though he’d tumbled down to the floor, he shoved one of her swords toward her, sending it skidding across the tile. The sight of her weapon jarred her back to her senses. She reached down to grab it.

“Please, Lady Tryneowy,” Rucrius said with an ungracious smile. “Have the grace to accept your defeat. You are Fountain-blessed, and my lord and master Gahalatine sent me to escort you to his capital. He desires to meet you. Your people will not be harmed if you submit to us now. Already our fleet is nearing the shore. Unless I give the proper sign to halt them, they will commence their attack, and many will needlessly perish. Brythonica has always been the weakest of the duchies of Ceredigion. Now I ask you, plainly, to set down that sword and accept your fate. Perhaps Gahalatine will choose you as his consort? Though I think he may prefer someone else.” He gave her an oily smile, staring at the left side of her face in a manner that made his meaning all too clear.

“I will not surrender my duchy,” Trynne said, her voice trembling with passion. “And our people and my king will fight Gahalatine’s aggression.”

Rucrius snorted. “Your king is being attacked in four places at once, young lady,” he said. “You cannot flee from me by the ley lines, and you lack a Tay al-Ard to travel without them. I commend your bravery, my lady, but do not be a simpleton. I will take you to the Forbidden Court by force if I must.” He gave her a mocking bow. “You won’t be the first who came unwillingly.”

She saw the lord marshal straining, the sword held helplessly over his head. The others were still on the ground, staring at her, and she could see the look of devotion in Thierry’s eyes, his outrage at the foreigner’s insult.

And then an idea struck her as clearly as a ringing bell. The Fountain whispered it to her; she knew it had.

“I thank you for coming all this way,” Trynne answered, walking forward. “By tangling the ley lines, you have made it difficult for you to leave as well.”

“Do you think that I fear a wisp of a girl such as you?”

“No,” Trynne answered. “But you should.”





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Defending Ploemeur




Trynne’s idea came from the staff the Wizr Rucrius held. It was clearly his strongest weapon, and she could sense the nature of the Fountain magic it possessed. It could shatter stone and split rock. She sensed its power was from the Deep Fathoms itself. Having been raised in Ploemeur, she knew the power that earthquakes held over water—and what a tidal flood could do to a host of ships caught in its path. Her own fleet was out at sea, so they would not be dashed onto the rocky shores of the coast. The Chandigarli fleet would be.