Gahalatine pursed his lips. “I know that. But where is he now? I thought to capture him and win his allegiance. He is a great man, worthy of both respect and honor. He vanished from the midst of the raiding party before my Wizrs could capture him. I thought he must have come here to defend you, but here you are, defenseless. I’ve been holding my champion in reserve to face him.” He gestured to the armored man next to him.
“You are Gahalatine?” King Drew asked.
The man nodded. “I am. I sent one of my advisors, Rucrius, to the palace of Kingfountain to issue my warning.” He gestured to the Wizr they had met, but the look he gave Rucrius puzzled and surprised Trynne. Was it disapproval? “I seek to conquer your domain by right of conquest. But there is some trickery afoot.” His eyes burned with anger. He raised a fist into the air and the blue stone on his crown glowed. His voice was broadcast across the fields again, but the thunderous words sounded more distant than before.
“Return to your posts. The battle is halted.” The order was intended for his men, not for them.
Gahalatine lowered his arm. He looked sternly at King Drew. “If you did not summon Lord Kiskaddon to defend you, then I fear some mischief has befallen him. I had hoped to persuade him to serve me, for I hear that Fountain magic cannot work on him. He cannot be compelled against his will. His was your greatest piece on the Wizr board before I ordered it broken. Although I could defeat you at this moment, it would stain my triumph in dishonor. We will withdraw back to the city we have captured. I permit you to bury your dead. You have my oath that no harm will befall your people for the next twelve months. You were clearly not prepared for this conflict. That is not my fault, of course, but I grant you one year to prepare yourselves. Then we will come again, and I will take the hollow crown from you. Seek out your lost champion. Or find a new one. Until then, farewell, noble king.”
The shock of their defeat had permeated the army. Half of the army of Kingfountain lay dead on the field of battle. In contrast, it was one of the most beautiful days imaginable. The sun shone down from above, and a pleasant breeze cooled the air, but it spread the stench of death everywhere.
Trynne wandered listlessly, unable to comprehend the devastation that had befallen them. Never had such an army been so totally overwhelmed. Not since Azinkeep. The shame of the outcome was mirrored in every soldier’s countenance. She overheard the soldiers talk as she moved around. Some said that Lord Owen had fled the fields a coward. Others growled angrily that he had been captured by the enemy king and made into a slave.
In the murk of despair, she spied Captain Staeli trudging up the hillside. His chain hood was askew, his face befouled from the battle. He held a glaive, taken from one of his enemies, the tail dragging in the grass.
“Captain,” Trynne breathed out, seeing the look of devastation in the man’s eyes. He caught sight of her and then sighed with relief.
“So many dead,” he said with great sadness.
“What happened, Captain?” Trynne demanded. “You were there. What happened to my father? Did you see him fall?”
Staeli shook his head. “He didn’t fall. He . . . vanished. We were riding toward the enemy’s lines. All was perfectly quiet and still. It was to be a surprise attack. We waited at the river’s edge for all the forces to arrive. He said he would part the river for us, and we could walk to the other side and attack. It happened at just that moment, as we were getting ready to cross. A clap of thunder came from above the fog. I looked up, surprised. When I turned back, his horse was there, but he was gone. He had vanished. That’s when they attacked us.” Staeli shook his head sorrowfully. “We were surrounded in moments and cut off from the rest of the army. Grand Duke Maxwell came to rescue us and he was cut down. He’s dead, my lady. I saw his son fighting over the corpse, mad with rage. That lad . . . he’s fearsome. We were all surrounded and fighting back-to-back. Then . . .” He stopped, shrugging. “Then we heard Gahalatine’s voice halting the battle. They stopped killing us immediately. They are disciplined. Frightfully so. When a man’s blood is up, it’s hard to stop. They could have slaughtered us all, but they obeyed their king.”
As Captain Staeli spoke, Trynne’s eyes widened with horror.
“I might know where he is,” she said, fighting a surge of worry. “You didn’t see my father with a silver dish? He wasn’t the one who poured the water?” It was a great secret, but she knew that storms could be summoned by pouring water from the silver bowl onto the plinth in the grove or anywhere else in the realm. Only the king, her parents, and Myrddin knew that, other than herself.