“Trynne!”
The urgency of Fallon’s voice made her hasten around the stone debris to join him.
“Look,” he said in wonderment. He was gaping up at the hillside, so she turned to follow his gaze. A series of stone steps was carved into the rock face. It solved the question of how they were going to reach the crest, but she was startled to find several huge boulders suspended in midair partway up the slope. The boulders were not attached to the hill at all, but hung as if by invisible ropes of magic.
“By the Fountain,” Trynne murmured.
They smiled at each other in amazement and then started up the steps. As they climbed, she looked back down at the woods wreathed in fog. The air was chilly but not too cold, and the climb made their breaths quicken.
“At least we won’t have trouble finding that oak tree again,”
Fallon said, pointing to the hulking tree. “It towers over its neighbors.”
As they neared the floating boulders, Trynne’s legs were starting to burn from the effort. The steps grew steeper, and they needed to climb up one of the floating boulders to get to the next spot. Fallon hoisted her up by the waist, allowing her to clamber onto it, and then she leaned over the side and helped pull him up.
“There’s a cave,” Fallon said, nodding in the direction of the hilltop. It was clearly visible from the floating boulder. They exchanged a look full of wonderment and descended from their perch. As they warily approached the cave, it occurred to Trynne that this was much like the cave at the beach in Brythonica. She sensed Fountain magic coming from inside. The floor of the cave was made of dirt and was dusty, with broken boulders holding up a giant mass of stones. A broken face was carved into the boulder at the end of the space.
“Le-ah-eer,” Trynne whispered, invoking the word of power for light. The stone obeyed and began to diffuse the room with a glow.
Fallon gave her a surprised look. Hands on hips, he gazed around at the small cave. “Is this the source of the magic—？” He cut himself off when the engraved boulder suddenly began to slide open.
There was a rustling noise, an impatient huff, and light flooded from behind the boulder, blinding them both. Trynne held up her hand to block the light and reached for one of her swords.
“No need for that, no need for that,” a familiar voice said with a snort. “The Medium told me you were coming. Aye, you didn’t startle me. Tsk, tsk, we are friends.”
“Myrddin?” Trynne asked in astonishment. Her eyes were still adjusting. The last time she’d seen him, he’d left their world for another one more needful of his help— this world.
“Yes, it is I. So the pethet brought you with him, little sister? Of course he did. Come in, come in. If you are hungry, have some food.
Just a little bit, the apples above are all mush now, but I have a few firm ones left. Come along. Come into my cave. You are welcome, even if one of you is a pethet.”
Trynne rejoiced to hear his voice and stepped forward, even though the light was blinding her. The brilliance finally ebbed and she could see Myrddin, dressed in the same cloak and robes he’d worn on the long-ago day he’d guided her through the oaths that had made her an Oath Maiden. He had a sour smell about him, as if he’d eaten too much onion, but she hastily controlled her thoughts, knowing that one of his Fountain gifts was the ability to read the thoughts of others.
“It is Myrddin,” Fallon said with a short chuckle. “And what is a pethet anyway?”
“Bah, leave it to a pethet to ask the wrong question,” the Wizr said with a huff and another snort, waving for them both to enter.
Trynne could tell he had been seated at a stone desk. It was full of strange metal books, the pages made of rectangular sheets of gold with rings set into them. There were heaps of them, some stacked on the floor, some set into stone boxes in the wall. She watched as Fallon gazed at them, his eyes brightening at the sight of so much treasure.
There were strange engraving tools on top of the stone table, along with a curious instrument. There were small metallic shavings all around them. It looked as if Myrddin had been in the midst of engraving when they’d disturbed him.
“Aye, there is much work left to do,” Myrddin said, putting his meaty hand on her shoulder. “Much left to write still. But come, you are guests. I should be gracious even though you have interrupted my work. The apples are over there. They are very sweet. Famous in these parts. Here, take some. They will help sustain you on your journey.”
“Where are we?” Trynne asked, seeing the pottery that held the apples. She was going to hand one to Fallon, but he hadn’t followed her. He was standing over the stone desk, about to lower his head and read from the metal pages.