She gripped Fallon’s hand tightly, fearing they’d be tugged apart by the vortex. A crackle of thunder filled the air and the flat slope of the cave entrance pitched so that their boots were scrabbling to find footing. There was none.
They fell into the depths of the cave. She braced herself, half expecting to smash into the cave wall at the end.
Instead of crashing into stone, she struck something else.
Fallon has betrayed me. There can be no other interpretation of the facts. He is gone, and he took my Tay al-Ard and the ring. My kystrel is also gone. If he were wearing it, if he were doing my bidding, I would know. I would sense where he is in the world and I would be able to use him. My memory is muddled from last night, but there’s one thing I do know. One thing I can see clearly. Fallon took Tryneowy to the Dryad tree. They have crossed worlds.
Without the ring, I cannot follow them. But I can destroy Brythonica before they return. And I will.
Another lost kingdom, drowned by the Deep Fathoms.
They will all learn the consequences of defying me.
Morwenna Argentine
PART II
Knights
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ruins
It was dawn in the new world. Trynne had landed in the detritus of an oak, the sharp edges of many brittle leaves pricking against her palms and cheek as she opened her eyes. There was birdsong in the air, a sweet sound that greeted her merrily as she lifted her head and found Fallon sprawled next to her. He winced with discomfort and lifted his head, a few decayed leaves clinging to his dark hair.
“Ugh,” he groaned, then turned his head and saw her lying next to him. His pained look softened into a relieved smile. He propped up on his elbows and gazed around the grove. “This is not Brythonica,”
he said in wonder. “Look at the size of this tree. It must be a thousand years old.”
Trynne sat up, brushing the dirt and crushed leaves from her arms, and tipped her head to look at the oak tree looming over them.
It was the shaggiest, most enormous oak she’d ever seen. The limbs were so thick and laden with boughs they dragged along the ground in some places. A morning breeze flitted through, caressing her cheek, as she gazed up at the canopy—endless tentacles of branches and thick clumps of mistletoe—in awe. Other oak trees were also nearby, but this one was the largest. Huge seeds the size of fruit were scattered amidst the debris. Her ears picked up on the sound of trickling water.
“It’s morning here,” Trynne said. Fallon rose quickly and then reached down to help her up. “I’m not sure if it’s a coincidence.”
Fallon shrugged, stretching his muscles. “It’s quiet. I don’t hear anyone.”
Fountain magic pulled at Trynne, drawing her in the direction of the trickling stream. “There is something that way,” she said, pointing.
He turned and gazed in that direction. “How can you tell?”
“I can sense it. It feels like the grove with the silver bowl.
There’s Fountain magic that way.”
“Then we should go there first,” he said. They started crunching through the dead leaves and twigs. Fallon lowered his hand onto his sword hilt as he walked, leading the way with his long strides. They both stopped at the same time, having seen the fletching and shaft of an arrow sticking out of the debris. Fallon slowed down and cleared away the detritus with his boot, revealing a mangled skeleton. The bones had been scattered haphazardly, as if by wild animals. A few scraps of cloth and chain mail—pierced by the arrow —were all that was left. Fallon looked at her somberly.
“That way,” Trynne said, nodding.
A short while later, they reached a trickling stream at the bottom of a gulley. It was an easy jump, and as soon as they made it across, Trynne felt the tug of the magic leading her alongside the creek. The woods became thinner, exposing a huge mound of moss-covered boulders. No, they were too symmetrical to be boulders.
“What are those?” Fallon asked, pointing to them. They hiked the short distance and discovered a mound of stone boxes in a huge heap. They were rectangular, each one about the span of Trynne’s arms. They were gathered at the foot of an enormous hill that rose high above them.
“What a strange place,” Fallon said, walking around the perimeter of the mound of stone boxes. “Is this where the magic is coming from?”
“No, farther up the hill,” Trynne answered. She walked in the opposite direction, running her hand along the stone. Many were broken to pieces. She could make no sense out of it, but it seemed that they had been pushed down the slope of the hill and had tumbled to the bottom in a heap. She glanced up the trail and saw more oak trees on top of the hill.