The clang of Fountain magic buffeted the beach and knocked Trynne to her knees. She opened her eyes, confused, and watched as the wave was shoved back, smashed against an invisible wall that protected the beach. It was as if a huge glass orb had been put over the beach. The waters of the ocean, tangled with huge skeins of seaweed, loomed far over Trynne’s head, high in the sky. But a dome of power protected the city, and the surf, despite its fury, could not claw over the rounded top. The torrent, losing its power, slid down and crashed back into the sea.
Morwenna’s eyes blazed with fury.
“No! You will not stop my revenge!”
“I will stop it as long as I must,” Myrddin answered. She felt his magic receding from such a display. His shoulders hunched and sweat dripped down his cheeks. His stores of magic were incredible, but even he had his limits.
Trynne marched down the beach to join him.
“Hello, little sister,” he said coyly. “Your pethet friend warned that you may need some help.”
Smiling in spite of herself, she nearly gave him a hug. “Thank you, Myrddin. Thank you for coming back.”
“Tsk, it was the Fountain that sent me. The need was greater here this time. It does not abandon the faithful.” He gave her a pointed look, and she felt her insides quiver with joy.
“So both of you will try to stop me?” Morwenna scoffed. “You have no idea the power I can summon. The land exists only because the sea permits it! The Deep Fathoms have always been here, but they were bound and tethered. Restrained. I will break every bond.
Water is the source of life. And of death. I will drown the world. You cannot stop me!”
Myrddin’s eyes squinted as he gazed at Morwenna. “I cannot defeat her,” he said in a low voice to Trynne. “Our power is equal.
She knows this. I can counter what she does, but only until I run out of strength.”
“What must I do?” Trynne asked.
“You are an Oath Maiden. Do what your memories tell you.”
Morwenna hooked her fingers and swirled her arms, a sick grin on her face. Suddenly, the huge ropes of seaweed that littered the beach inside the shield rose and flew at Trynne and Myrddin. While Trynne immediately drew her swords and began slicing the tangled seaweed as it tried to enwrap and tangle her, Myrddin twirled his staff, drawing the water out of the skeins so they dropped limply to the beach. Morwenna’s face flashed with fury again. Her stores were dropping too, but Trynne sensed the Wizr was right—they were evenly matched.
One of the ropes of seaweed wrapped around Trynne’s leg to yank her down, but she felt the magic die and the rope go limp. It trembled and throbbed, the magic pulsing inside its orange-brown layers. It was trying to obey Morwenna and entangle Trynne. Yet it could not.
And she understood why. Morwenna’s deceptions could not affect her. Neither could her power.
The water had receded again, but it was drawing up its strength for another rush. Trynne felt snapping sensations under her skin, the breaking of ley lines. The Hidden Vulgate’s dark magic had an even larger scope than she’d feared. Myrddin’s face twisted into a scowl.
“You’ll not escape death,” Morwenna said. “We will all die in this place. You broke my Tay al-Ard, and I will break your staff! None of us shall flee. We will be buried beneath a mountain of water. I summon it!”
The sea was swelling with her every word.
“Not yet, lass,” Myrddin said, shaking his head. Trynne sensed his magic building up to defend them. She sensed his knees paining him, his shoulder throbbing.
Suddenly Morwenna staggered backward and the wave collapsed, losing its energy too soon. Sweat dripped from Myrddin’s nose.
“I can’t hold her forever, sister,” he said coaxingly to Trynne. “It is you who must defeat her. Not I.”
“I know your weakness, old man!” Morwenna scoffed. “I know why you keep to the shadows. I’ve read The Hidden Vulgate. I read how Nimu? enslaved you with a kystrel. How she tricked you into that cave and sealed it with the Fault Staff. Men have ever yielded to desire above all else. You’re afraid of me, Maderos. You’ve always been afraid of how I can make you feel.”
Trynne felt power behind her words, power that was unseen, yet just as dangerous and deadly as the storms Morwenna was summoning.
“I have the kystrel’s taint,” Morwenna purred. “Don’t you wish to see it?”
Trynne felt Myrddin’s shield waver. He closed his eyes, gripping his crooked staff with both hands, pressing it into the sand deeply, as if he were driving it into the heart of the earth. His face was dripping with sweat, but his cheeks were calm. His shoulders drooped.