by Jeff Wheeler
BOOKS BY JEFF WHEELER
The Kingfountain Series
The Maid’s War (prequel)
The Queen’s Poisoner
The Thief’s Daughter
The King’s Traitor
The Hollow Crown
The Silent Shield
The Forsaken Throne
The Covenant of Muirwood Trilogy
The Banished of Muirwood
The Ciphers of Muirwood
The Void of Muirwood
The Lost Abbey (novella)
The Legends of Muirwood Trilogy
The Wretched of Muirwood
The Blight of Muirwood
The Scourge of Muirwood
Whispers from Mirrowen Trilogy
Fireblood
Dryad-Born
Poisonwell
Landmoor Series
Landmoor
Silverkin
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2017 by Jeff Wheeler
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781611097535
ISBN-10: 1611097533
Cover design by Shasti O’Leary Soudant
To the Das family
CONTENTS
MAP
CHARACTERS MONARCHIES
I don’t know…
PART I Wizr
CHAPTER ONE Chandleer Oasis
CHAPTER TWO Lord of the Distant Isles
CHAPTER THREE Zenana
CHAPTER FOUR Elwis
I think the…
CHAPTER FIVE Disciple
CHAPTER SIX Deep Fathoms Beckons
CHAPTER SEVEN Dundrennan
CHAPTER EIGHT The Ring Table
My mind is…
CHAPTER NINE Turandokht
CHAPTER TEN Upon the Feast of St. Benedick
CHAPTER ELEVEN Mortain Falls
PART II Knights
CHAPTER TWELVE Genevar
I must get…
CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Breaking
CHAPTER FOURTEEN Defending Ploemeur
CHAPTER FIFTEEN Wreckage
CHAPTER SIXTEEN Revenge
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN The Fault Staff
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN The Greatest Power
CHAPTER NINETEEN The Forbidden Court
I’ve discovered my…
CHAPTER TWENTY Zenana
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE The High Tower
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Threat and Mate
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Midnight
I made it…
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Scattered
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE The King’s Defense
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Trapping the Boar
I joined the…
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Dundrennan
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Prisoner
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Lost
CHAPTER THIRTY Rage
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE Battle of the Kings
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO Vengeance
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE The King’s Champion
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR Submission
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE The Uncrowned King
The war in…
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX Reunited
EPILOGUE Into the Deep Fathoms
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHARACTERS
MONARCHIES
Ceredigion: Andrew and Genevieve (House of Argentine): the embattled young rulers of Ceredigion are in a desperate situation. The army of Kingfountain was crushed at the Battle of Guilme, and the king’s chief strategist and champion, Owen Kiskaddon, disappeared mysteriously right before it began. Nearly a year has passed since that fateful day, without any word from the lost duke. The ruler Gahalatine vowed to invade Kingfountain again one year after the battle, and the time draws near.
Brythonica and Westmarch: Sinia (House of Montfort) and Owen (House of Kiskaddon): the disappearance of Sinia’s husband has impacted her deeply. More secluded and reserved, she has pulled away from everyone who loves her best, including her own children. She is the king’s advisor, his Wizr, but has been long absent from the palace of Kingfountain in her solitude. Her son, Gannon, has taken his father’s title as the new duke of Westmarch. She has a new apprentice, Morwenna Argentine, whom she has been training in the lore of the Fountain-blessed.
North Cumbria: Fallon (House of Llewellyn): Fallon survived the Battle of Guilme. His rejected proposal of marriage to Tryneowy Kiskaddon has left him embittered and scarred but full of purpose. He is determined to win the vacant seat at the Ring Table known as the Siege Perilous and become the king’s new champion.
Brugia: Elwis (House of Asturias): after his father’s death at the Battle of Guilme, Elwis is a changed man, no longer full of the resentment and angst of the past. His renewed loyalty to the crown is reflected in his increased power in the court of Kingfountain. His kingdom is still vulnerable and lies in the path of Gahalatine’s mighty armada. The enemy still holds the city of Guilme as a strategic foothold. There are rumors at court that Elwis has turned away marriage prospects from many rich and powerful heiresses. They say his eye is favorable to the Lady of Averanche.
Averanche: Tryneowy (House of Kiskaddon): only the queen knows Trynne’s secret identity as the elusive Painted Knight, but the Lady of Averanche has openly turned her city into the main training ground for young women who wish to study the arts of war. Those who have taken up sword and shield to defend Kingfountain are known as Oath Maidens. Many knights of the realm resent that they will need to compete against female warriors in the upcoming Gauntlet of Kingfountain, but Trynne cares nothing for this rivalry. Her focus is on doing her queen’s bidding, finding her missing father, and preparing for the return of Gahalatine.
Chandigarl: Gahalatine (Emperor of the East Kingdoms and Lord of the Distant Isles): this charismatic ruler succeeded in usurping the empire from the grip of his father, his overreaching uncles, and the Wizrs who supported them. He has coalesced power throughout the realms on his side of the world and seeks to increase his hegemony by conquering Kingfountain as soon as the terms of his temporary truce expire.
I don’t know who I am or how I came to be in this dungeon. My face is covered by a mask of black velvet. My jailor has said I’m too hideous to look at. It is dark and the cell is cramped. The only light comes from a brazier or something burning behind the door of my lonely cell. Two doors guard my prison—my cell door and the one leading to this moldering dungeon. My jailor comes to see me but once a day, when he brings me food and that awful sweet-smelling drink that I know is poisoned. I don’t know how I know it’s poisoned. I don’t remember anything. Not my name. Not my childhood. All is lost to me.
Yet I know the door is made of iron and that the bottom hinges on the outer door are rustier than those on the inner door. I hear everything, from the scuttling of roaches and rats to the groans and cries of other prisoners. There are not so many of us. I feel loneliness and despair that I’ve lived in this cell for so long. I cannot remember anything before this smothering hood or t
hese chains. My jailor says if I take off the hood, I will be executed. He says if I try to escape, I will be executed. I think I am mad or have done some terrible crime. The only things that soothe me are the pieces of broken stone on the floor. I stack them up in rows and then knock them down. I feel compelled to do this. If I keep doing it, maybe I will remember something. Or maybe I am truly mad.
PART I
Wizr
CHAPTER ONE
Chandleer Oasis
Traveling the ley lines was like plummeting over a waterfall. It sent Tryneowy Kiskaddon’s heart racing whenever she stepped into a fountain in one corner of the kingdom, only to almost instantaneously appear somewhere else. In the past, that mode of travel had given her a strong sense of queasiness that would not dispel for hours, but she’d practiced enough that she no longer grew sick to her stomach. No, what was disorienting Trynne was the fact that she’d left Averanche in the morning and arrived at her destination close to sunset.
She had appeared inside a fountain at the front of a palatial manor. As the mist dissolved around her and she heard the bubbling of the waters, she was struck by an oppressive heat that nearly took her breath away. The location was foreign to her, and her eyes filled with wonder as she stepped to the edge of the stone lip of the fountain. She didn’t want to leave the protection of it yet, just in case her summons there had been a carefully laid trap.
With four equally sized quadrants, the fountain was designed to resemble a flower. There were glowing stones in the water—so curious to behold—which gave the water a strange aspect. She didn’t know what made the light, but she knew Chandleer Oasis was part of the Marusthali Desert, located along the major ley line going east and west. Her mother possessed a book of maps, which Trynne had studied all her life, imagining herself in places she’d only heard of by name.
This place was not on it.
She had never been so far from home, but she relished the adventure.
The fountain was in the middle of a paved courtyard. There was a thatch-roofed hut just in front of her. Extending from its side was a pyramid-shaped roof that was bolstered by sturdy stone pillars affixed with stones glowing as brightly as the ones in the water. Beyond the hut was the manor with its many spires and turrets. The courtyard itself was surrounded by a semicircle of pillars supporting timbers and beams and a latticework covered in a variety of grapevines and wisteria, all providing shade over the area. The nearby hedges were meticulously trimmed into square-shaped blocks.
When Trynne swiveled around, she saw a long path flanked by bizarre giant trees she had only seen before in her mother’s books. They were very tall but narrow, like giant maypoles, and their bark bore a strange thatch-weave pattern. The tops of the trees burst into gigantic vibrant-green fronds.
The sound of sandaled feet slapping on stones caught her attention, and she turned again to see a dark-skinned man coming toward her from the shaded pavilion. The doors of the huge manor were being held open by other dark-skinned men wearing turbans.
The man approaching her wore a knee-length tunic the color of whey porridge. It was loose and breathy but embroidered with elegant stitches and patterns. He had a genial smile and bowed his head repeatedly as he approached, his hands pressed together in front of him, his fingers splayed.
“Worthy guest, you are most welcome,” the man said in a heavy accent she’d never heard before, bowing his head yet again. He had a trimmed mustache and goatee and thinning hair on the top of his head. When he reached the edge of the fountain, he dropped to his knees and bowed before her, placing his hands on the ground and prostrating himself as if she were an object of worship.
“Please,” Trynne said, feeling instantly uncomfortable. “Please stand. I didn’t know you would speak my language.”
The bearded man quickly rose to his feet, looking abashed. “I did not mean to displease you.”
His reaction only made her feel more out of place. The oppressive heat had made sweat pop out on her forehead and shoulder blades. The water of the fountain didn’t touch her skirts, but she would not have minded if it did.
“I’m not offended,” she said, shaking her head. “I am unfamiliar with your customs. Are you King Sunilik?”
The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh no, honored guest. I am but your humble servant, Samrao. Come with me, if you please, and I will take you to see him. He will be most honored that you came. If you would follow me?”
Trynne glanced again at the strangeness and beauty of the scene, but her head felt as if it were burning under the intense heat of the dusk. She could only imagine what the daylight hours felt like. She stepped over the edge of the railing, and the waters filled the gap she had left by standing in the pool.
She felt the presence of the Fountain all around her. Its magic thrived in this place, from the sleek vines and grape leaves to the polish on the stones at the edge of the fountain. There was a feeling of peace and serenity that made her less guarded and apprehensive.
As she followed the servant, he made a series of claps with his hands. Veiled maidens appeared from the doorway up ahead, each swaying an oversize palm frond. The air had been heavy and still, so the soft breeze came as a relief.
The interior of the palace bustled with servants and visitors who congregated inside to escape the daylight hours. The air was full of unfamiliar smells—spices and perfumes and the savory scent of dishes she’d never tasted. She followed Samrao across a polished tile floor that was made of marble with flecks of gold in the stone. The manor was not as large as Kingfountain, the royal castle in her realm, but it was impressive in its size and decoration.
Samrao paused to speak to another servant, who rushed ahead to announce them. As they moved through the manor, Trynne felt an increasing sense of self-consciousness. She was the only foreigner in the place. All the servants and citizens were dark skinned with black hair. Their form of attire was very different, the men wearing long tunics and boots and the women wearing brightly colored tunics with intricate patterns and covered by diaphanous veils. Trynne’s hair was much lighter, brown instead of black, with a slight curl to her tresses she could never tame. She had always been diminutive, but she was not weak. As the strangers looked at her, she wondered how many had noted the paralysis that afflicted part of her face.
The main entrance hall backed into a high-ceilinged area that boasted a wall of wood-slat windows. Servants with long hooked poles were adjusting the slats to open them up now that the sun was setting.
Queen Genevieve had received a personal message from the King of Chandleer that Gahalatine had announced his intention to invade the small desert kingdom. He had not asked for Kingfountain to defend him. But he had asked if his youngest daughter could be brought to the relative safety of Kingfountain. The king was a disciple of the Fountain, and the magic had moved him to make his request of the queen rather than of King Drew.
Genevieve had showed the message to Trynne, and both had felt it would be an interesting opportunity to gain more knowledge about their common enemy. And since Trynne was training the Oath Maidens, the young women who would help defend their kingdom, the king’s appeal had felt part of a larger design.
Two heavy wooden doors opened at the back of the hall, leading out to a veranda. It was there that she found King Sunilik waiting for her. Samrao gave a short bow and then slipped away.
Sunilik was not a tall man, only slightly taller than Trynne herself, and she was notably short among her peers. He was middle-aged and very fit and trim, with a touch of gray at his temples and thinning hair. He had a round face, and when he smiled at her, she noticed a gap in his front teeth. His expression changed into one of surprise.
“You are Lord Kiskaddon’s daughter?” he asked with interest. His smile grew even brighter as he stared at her. “I am humbled that the queen sent you. My dear young lady, you are most welcome.” He extended his hands in a tender gesture, and she took them, feeling their warmth. “I am a father of three daughters,” he said. “E
ach is a treasure to my wife and me.”
“You speak our language so well,” Trynne said, feeling the Fountain’s magic radiating from this man.
She glanced behind him and was dazzled by what she saw. The rear of the estate had a view of a jagged mountain that rose at a tilted angle before dropping precipitously down. There were no trees on the mountain, just red and brown rocks that reflected the fading sunlight in glints and colorful hues. More of the towering trees filled the rear of the palace, but they were eclipsed by the majesty of the pools and fountains spread out in front of her. The fountains were of different shapes and sizes, spilling and blasting beautiful plumes of water into the air. Walkways and bridges interconnected them.
“I can see you enjoy the fruit of our aqueducts,” King Sunilik said with a smile, releasing her hands. He turned and extended his arm. “I did not build this, my lady. I am but the humble steward who inherited a kingdom that was formed centuries ago. This palace was developed by my grandfather, who visited the court of Kingfountain in your realm.” He bowed his head humbly to her.
She shifted her gaze back to the oasis, marveling at the sight of the huge body of clean water amidst the parched desert wasteland. The Fountain could be felt in the trickling of the waters, but she realized it was also flowing from the man beside her. Intuition told her he was doing it deliberately to reveal himself to her.
“You are Fountain-blessed,” she said.
Again, he bowed his head. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I have no chance of defeating Gahalatine,” he said in a resigned tone. “I had hoped Chandleer Oasis would be too insignificant for him to consider. But he is running out of nations to conquer. And when one of his Wizrs arrived and emptied out our pools”—he said it with a shrug, but Trynne could sense the anger lurking behind the words—“I knew we would be overrun. He will give the oasis to one of his other leaders, someone from his spoke of influence. It will be a place where his people come to relax after their conquests. I have worked hard to maintain the oasis and protect its people. But Gahalatine will strip my position from me. That is what he does. I’ve heard too many of the stories to disbelieve it. And the strange thing is that since he, too, is Fountain-blessed, I will probably thank him for taking this away from me.”