The dockworkers lifted a ramp, and the soldiers aboard affixed it to the edge of the ship. Trynne caught a flash of golden hair—her mother, approaching the gangplank. Just seeing her made Trynne’s whole being thrum with relief, but the feeling was quickly muted by the burden Trynne carried.
Sinia spoke in undecipherable tones to Captain Pyne for a moment and then headed toward the ramp.
Trynne saw someone with her mother. She blinked, not able to understand. There was a child holding her hand. A boy with tawny hair and a wide smile. Trynne’s vision was blurred by tears and she wiped them away fast, afraid it was an illusion. But she could not be deceived by illusions. She saw the lad clearly.
It was Gannon.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Dryad Tree
Trynne sobbed as she hugged her brother, kneeling on the sharp wooden planks of the dock, feeling his hands patting her shoulders comfortingly. Her heart felt so swollen she thought it would burst, and her breath came in soft hiccups. She gazed at her parents, seeing them together, Sinia holding Owen tightly, cheek pressed against his chest, her tears flowing freely. There was no way to describe how Trynne felt. They were a family again.
Trynne closed her eyes, savoring the relief, the confusion—she couldn’t understand how this was possible outside of a dream. She feared she’d awaken and it would be gone. But she felt Gannon, smelled the scent of the sea on his skin. He was alive. She kissed his cheeks until he wrinkled his nose and started to shove her away.
Looking back from her brother, she saw something dangling from her mother’s girdle. She sensed it was hidden and concealed by magic, but her eyes could see it—the illusion would not work on her. It was a key, a strange, ancient-looking key that was made of rusting iron and hung from a braided rope tied around her mother’s waist. She felt the strange power it radiated. What was it?
Her mother caught her gaze. Then her fingers wrapped around Trynne’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I will explain everything to you, Tryneowy. All that I can. Later. First, we must bring back your father’s memories.”
King Drew approached, staring at Sinia in awe. “You can do this?” he asked, his eyes brightening with hope.
“Yes, my lord. I know now how they were taken—and how they can be returned.” She inclined her head to him. “I also know where Firebos is being concealed. And my husband’s scabbard.” She patted Owen’s chest. “It too shall be restored. All things will be made right again.” Her countenance fell a bit as she shifted her gaze back to Trynne. “All that can be.”
Once again, they were back at the grove, but this time with Trynne’s mother and brother. The noise from the cheering crowds was gone, replaced by the sweet chirping of the woodland birds and the steady pattering of the waterfall. Gannon ambled around the oak tree’s roots, and Trynne felt a nervous gust of fear. She folded her arms, shuddering, still amazed to see her brother hale once again.
“I have so many questions . . .” Trynne said, turning to her mother. Sinia was walking hand in hand with Owen toward the plinth.
King Drew clasped his hands behind his back, standing near Trynne and brooding over the strange scene. “As do I,” he said.
“Why do I have a feeling you have already seen this moment in a vision?”
Sinia smiled at the comment and nodded to him. “When I departed Kingfountain, I said that I was being summoned back home. Back to the Deep Fathoms.”
“I recall that moment quite well,” said Drew forlornly. “Everything started to fall apart afterward.”
Sinia turned and gazed up at the crooked tree branches of the mighty oak. “I know, my lord, but there were things we needed to know. Things that I could not learn in Ploemeur.” She released Owen’s hand and turned to face them. “My birth was a secret, even to me. I was found on the beach by my parents. A water sprite. A gift from the Fountain to save Brythonica from drowning. What I say here, inside this hallowed grove, must remain a secret.” She looked calm and peaceful, serene, transformed from when Trynne had seen her last. “We sailed westward and had many adventures. Far away, across the farthest sea, is an island. A trail of stone boulders, cut with stone faces, led me there. Next to the island there’s an underwater chasm deeper than the deepest gorge. It sinks into the very heart of the sea, and all the currents of the ocean are drawn into it. It is a gateway to the Deep Fathoms.”
She paused, gazing down at the stone plinth. “We sailed into its depths. Inside the Deep Fathoms, I met my true parents.” She looked up then, her expression one of tenderness and devotion. “My father rules the Deep Fathoms. In his previous life, on another world, his body was horribly scarred and he had lost his memories. My mother is a Dryad. This,” she said, gesturing to the oak, “is a Dryad tree. They are spirit creatures, like water sprites, but of the earth instead of the sea.” She turned and faced the tree, bowing her head respectfully. “The Dryad in this tree is my sister,” she said, her words full of loving feeling. “I never knew why I felt so at home here. Why this place was sacred to me as a child. I could always feel its whispers beckoning to me.” She turned her head to face them. “A Dryad’s power is over memories. She can snatch them away with the blink of her eyes. Her kiss restores them. My sister is bound to serve the master of the ring, so she has been in bondage to Morwenna. Now that the ring has been restored to its proper owner, she will restore Owen’s memories and those of the others whose memories she has taken. The lore of the Dryads is an ancient secret.