He slipped his hand into the pouch he wore at his waist and withdrew a single apple. “What is the potential of one tiny black seed in one small piece of fruit?” He grinned at them both. “This!” he whispered, spreading his arms wide, indicating the horde of trees around them. “This orchard was once famous throughout the kingdoms for its sweet fruit and cider. But what if these trees were neglected for long enough that they no longer produced sweet fruit?
What would be the purpose of the orchard?” His lip twisted into a sneer. “It would cumber the ground. It would waste its potential. How many seasons, how many years would a gardener give it before deciding there was no hope left. Eh? How many seasons of ill fruit before the gardener shook his head and cut down the trees? The gardener is patient. But when none of the fruit is sweet . . .” He shook his head sadly. “Firewood. That is all the grove would be good for. And so culling must happen to save the orchard. This is the way of things. As Andrew eventually came to accept.”
Myrddin bowed his head reverently. His voice was soft. “Andrew married again,” he said. “After his first wife was dead, he married the ruler of this sanctuary, who was a widow herself, the daughter of a king. They had children, even in their old age. They were mighty children. All Fountain-blessed. They produced generations of stalwart rulers who founded their own kingdoms. They were stronger than the inhabitants of this land and began to rule them. The Dochte Mandar—whom you know as the Mandaryn—hunted this family. Be wary. They will sense that you are not of this world too. Now go and reclaim your father, little sister. Ere he is destroyed along with the others when the flames come.”
“What about the book?” Trynne asked. “Where is the book that caused this evil? Does Morwenna have it?”
He shook his head. “You cannot touch that book, little sister, without falling under its thrall. It destroys whoever touches it.”
“But surely it must be destroyed!” Trynne said.
Myrddin shook his head. “One cannot destroy evil, little sister. It can only be bound for a season. It plants its seeds the moment we stop fighting against it. I have told you enough. Now you must go.
But I will give you both a Gifting from the Fountain ere you depart.”
As they left the ruins of the village and sanctuary, Trynne could sense the Fountain magic behind them. The feeling faded with distance, and the serenity and peacefulness she had experienced in that place faded, replaced by ominous thoughts and feelings of dread. She was grateful for the lingering comfort of Myrddin’s Gifting.
Before parting ways with them, he’d bestowed to each a spell that would linger with them throughout their journey. To Fallon, he had given the Gift of Xenoglossia, which bestowed the ability to speak and understand languages. To Trynne, who could bestow that ability on herself, he had given a blessing of strength and fortitude and increased insight to be able to hear the Fountain’s whispers, even when she was in desolate places.
One such place was the main road, which was choked, overgrown, and abandoned. It was obvious that years had passed since any wagons or horses had come this way. There was no sign of inhabitants anywhere. No telltale plumes of smoke from distant chimneys. The forest was full of black, mossy oak trees, and it crowded in on both sides, leaving them with but a tunnel to pass through. Within a few years, Trynne could tell, even the tunnel would revert to fenlands. She and Fallon trampled along the path, skirting budding trees that were beginning to fill the void.
“What do you think about what Myrddin said?” Trynne asked him. Their pace was strong. They’d packed food for several days, thankfully, so they wouldn’t need to stop and forage.
“About what part? He said a lot.” Fallon swatted a mosquito that was hovering over Trynne’s ear. She flinched and scowled at the insect.
“Well, what parts stood out to you?” she persisted.
Fallon rubbed his mouth. “I didn’t know that King Andrew had offspring in this world. Think of that, Trynne. The Argentine dynasty is only five hundred years old. King Andrew lived a thousand years ago. That’s a lot of history. How much did Andrew influence this world? It’s humbling to even think on it.”
Trynne gave him a probing look. “Did you know Myrddin would be here when we arrived?”
“How could I know that, Trynne?”
“Well, he kept talking about the rules and things that governed the portals, looking at you as he talked. It almost felt like the two of you had spoken before. Is that true?”