“And those over there are puffins. The bills are so orange.”
“And what about that one? With the long, pointed beak?”
“A curlew. Their beaks are as long as swords.” His memory had always impressed Trynne. Her heart filled with love for the little boy who was as happy and carefree as their father hadn’t been in his own youth. Owen’s absence made the child melancholy at times, but he knew how deeply he was loved, and Trynne was grateful that he had never grown tired of holding their mother’s hand.
The salty smell of the ocean, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, and the cry of the seagulls overhead—all of it flooded her with memories of other times she’d visited with her mother. It was Sinia’s favorite place, but though it was beautiful, it was also a reminder of the inexorable power of the Deep Fathoms. The tiny beads of polished glass they trampled in the sand were relics of Leoneyis, a kingdom that had been swallowed by the sea. Her mother had often described to her visions she’d seen of Leoneyis at its prime—the enormous palace full of huge glass windows and glass chandeliers, dangling prisms that spun rainbows everywhere when the sunlight struck them. Yet the great wealth of the king had corrupted his heart. In time, he had forsaken the Fountain and destroyed all the Oath Maidens, ultimately depriving his kingdom of everything. Only those who had gathered in the sanctuary of St. Penryn had been spared the tidal flood that had destroyed the realm.
They walked for some distance along the shore, hidden by the huge rocks and land that formed the edge of the coast past the beach. Only at the harbor was the water deep enough to permit boats during high and low tide. Any fleet that tried to bottle in Ploemeur would end up being dashed against the rocks if it anchored too close.
Trynne’s mother had taught her the magical defenses of the city multiple times. Yet Sinia had insisted on bringing both of her children to check on them one last time.
The first of the caves could only be reached during low tide. At high tide, the low entrance was submerged, concealing it from others. The jagged stone cliff was green with moss that dripped constantly as if shedding tears. Small gnats floated in the air, and the loamy smell of decaying vegetation filled Trynne’s nose as they walked up the crisp sand to the cave. Gannon dashed ahead impetuously, grinning with excitement as he rushed into the dark entrance. The hissing surf came nigh to the mouth of the cave.
There were guards posted at the beach to prevent people from stealing the beads of polished glass, which were sold in pieces of jewelry. Guards patrolled it at night as well. But their purpose was not only to guard the ancient glass; they also guarded the caves along the shore.
Sinia ducked her head and followed Gannon into the cave, grazing the sharp rocks with her hand as if she were petting an animal. Trynne was shorter than her mother and barely needed to dip her chin to get past the opening. Gannon’s laughter echoed through the confined darkness.
“Le-ah-eer,” Sinia whispered, invoking the word of power for light.
The interior of the cave began to glow. The light emanated from various stones, but the sources were hidden beneath skeins of moss and lichen. Gannon scrambled up onto a taller rock and dug his fingers through the moss to try to see it better, grinning at the magic on display.
The ground was full of sand and shells that crunched beneath their boots. It was tall enough for even Sinia to stand straight up, but the cave was pretty small. Roots from trees up on the cliffs dug into the cave, but none so deep as to penetrate the stone. Fresh water dripped from the walls, tinkling and splashing in little waterfalls to join the sand and empty into the beach.
“This is where one of you must always come,” Sinia said. The words had been spoken quietly, almost in a whisper, but they echoed off the close walls of the cave, sounding firmer, more somber. Gannon’s expression turned serious and he turned to face her, listening carefully. They had both heard this speech many times, but it felt more solemn now.
Sinia’s eyes shone in the radiance of the glowing green moss.
“Since I was very young—your age, Gannon—I have always come to these caves to invoke the magic that protects Brythonica. We will go to each of them. It doesn’t take long to come here and utter the word of power. In fact, it is sufficient to even think the word. These stones can hear you. As I’ve shown you, beneath the moss are faces carved into the rock—”
“They don’t look like faces,” Gannon interrupted.
She was not upset by it. “Not anymore, my son. We don’t know who carved them, only that they are very old. The sea has rubbed away at the stone for centuries and more. Maybe one day the protections will fail because time itself has robbed them of their faces.” She looked up at the walls with an air of reverence. “All it takes is a thought, and the protections are extended for another season. I have never forgotten my duty, nor lapsed in it in all the time since I was a little girl. Sometimes very small things have terribly large consequences.” She bowed her head, breathing in through her nose. Then she looked up at Trynne. “I am leaving with the tide. I have never before been away from Brythonica for an entire season, but this time I might be. You both know how to extend the protections. I don’t mind if Gannon does it. But Trynne, you need to ensure that it is done. Please do not let your other duties and responsibilities crowd your mind enough for you to forget.” Sinia shook her head. “You must do this, Tryneowy. I give the charge to you until Gannon is of age.” She reached out and ran her fingers through Gannon’s hair. But her eyes were riveted on Trynne.