BOOKS BY JEFF WHEELER

The Kingfountain Series

The Maid’s War (prequel)

The Queen’s Poisoner

The Thief’s Daughter

The King’s Traitor

The Hollow Crown

The Silent Shield

The Forsaken Throne

The Covenant of Muirwood Trilogy

The Banished of Muirwood

The Ciphers of Muirwood

The Void of Muirwood

The Lost Abbey (novella)

The Legends of Muirwood Trilogy

The Wretched of Muirwood

The Blight of Muirwood

The Scourge of Muirwood

Whispers from Mirrowen Trilogy

Fireblood

Dryad-Born

Poisonwell

Landmoor Series

Landmoor

Silverkin

Title Page

Copyright Page

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2017 by Jeff Wheeler

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by 47North, Seattle

Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781611097535

ISBN-10: 1611097533

Cover design by Shasti O’Leary Soudant

Dedication

To the Das family

CONTENTS

CONTENTS

MAP

CHARACTERS MONARCHIES

I don’t know…

PART I Wizr

CHAPTER ONE Chandleer Oasis

CHAPTER TWO Lord of the Distant Isles

CHAPTER THREE Zenana

CHAPTER FOUR Elwis

I think the…

CHAPTER FIVE Disciple

CHAPTER SIX Deep Fathoms Beckons

CHAPTER SEVEN Dundrennan

CHAPTER EIGHT The Ring Table

My mind is…

CHAPTER NINE Turandokht

CHAPTER TEN Upon the Feast of St. Benedick

CHAPTER ELEVEN Mortain Falls

PART II Knights

CHAPTER TWELVE Genevar

I must get…

CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Breaking

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Defending Ploemeur

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Wreckage

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Revenge

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN The Fault Staff

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN The Greatest Power

CHAPTER NINETEEN The Forbidden Court

I’ve discovered my…

CHAPTER TWENTY Zenana

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE The High Tower

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Threat and Mate

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Midnight

I made it…

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Scattered

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE The King’s Defense

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Trapping the Boar

I joined the…

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Dundrennan

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Prisoner

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Lost

CHAPTER THIRTY Rage

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE Battle of the Kings

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO Vengeance

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE The King’s Champion

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR Submission

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE The Uncrowned King

The war in…

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX Reunited

EPILOGUE Into the Deep Fathoms

AUTHOR’S NOTE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MAP

CHARACTERS MONARCHIES

CHARACTERS

MONARCHIES

Ceredigion: Andrew and Genevieve (House of Argentine): the embattled young rulers of Ceredigion are in a desperate situation. The army of Kingfountain was crushed at the Battle of Guilme, and the king’s chief strategist and champion, Owen Kiskaddon, disappeared mysteriously right before it began. Nearly a year has passed since that fateful day, without any word from the lost duke. The ruler Gahalatine vowed to invade Kingfountain again one year after the battle, and the time draws near.

Brythonica and Westmarch: Sinia (House of Montfort) and Owen (House of Kiskaddon): the disappearance of Sinia’s husband has impacted her deeply. More secluded and reserved, she has pulled away from everyone who loves her best, including her own children. She is the king’s advisor, his Wizr, but has been long absent from the palace of Kingfountain in her solitude. Her son, Gannon, has taken his father’s title as the new duke of Westmarch. She has a new apprentice, Morwenna Argentine, whom she has been training in the lore of the Fountain-blessed.

North Cumbria: Fallon (House of Llewellyn): Fallon survived the Battle of Guilme. His rejected proposal of marriage to Tryneowy Kiskaddon has left him embittered and scarred but full of purpose. He is determined to win the vacant seat at the Ring Table known as the Siege Perilous and become the king’s new champion.

Brugia: Elwis (House of Asturias): after his father’s death at the Battle of Guilme, Elwis is a changed man, no longer full of the resentment and angst of the past. His renewed loyalty to the crown is reflected in his increased power in the court of Kingfountain. His kingdom is still vulnerable and lies in the path of Gahalatine’s mighty armada. The enemy still holds the city of Guilme as a strategic foothold. There are rumors at court that Elwis has turned away marriage prospects from many rich and powerful heiresses. They say his eye is favorable to the Lady of Averanche.

Averanche: Tryneowy (House of Kiskaddon): only the queen knows Trynne’s secret identity as the elusive Painted Knight, but the Lady of Averanche has openly turned her city into the main training ground for young women who wish to study the arts of war. Those who have taken up sword and shield to defend Kingfountain are known as Oath Maidens. Many knights of the realm resent that they will need to compete against female warriors in the upcoming Gauntlet of Kingfountain, but Trynne cares nothing for this rivalry. Her focus is on doing her queen’s bidding, finding her missing father, and preparing for the return of Gahalatine.

Chandigarl: Gahalatine (Emperor of the East Kingdoms and Lord of the Distant Isles): this charismatic ruler succeeded in usurping the empire from the grip of his father, his overreaching uncles, and the Wizrs who supported them. He has coalesced power throughout the realms on his side of the world and seeks to increase his hegemony by conquering Kingfountain as soon as the terms of his temporary truce expire.

I don’t know…

I don’t know who I am or how I came to be in this dungeon. My face is covered by a mask of black velvet. My jailor has said I’m too hideous to look at. It is dark and the cell is cramped. The only light comes from a brazier or something burning behind the door of my lonely cell. Two doors guard my prison—my cell door and the one leading to this moldering dungeon. My jailor comes to see me but once a day, when he brings me food and that awful sweet-smelling drink that I know is poisoned. I don’t know how I know it’s poisoned. I don’t remember anything. Not my name. Not my childhood. All is lost to me.

Yet I know the door is made of iron and that the bottom hinges on the outer door are rustier than those on the inner door. I hear everything, from the scuttling of roaches and rats to the groans and cries of other prisoners. There are not so many of us. I feel loneliness and despair that I’ve lived in this cell for so long. I cannot remember anything before this smothering hood or these chains. My jailor says if I take off the hood, I will be executed. He says if I try to escape, I will be executed. I think I am mad or have done some terrible crime. The only things that soothe me are the pieces of broken stone on the floor. I stack them up in rows and then knock them down. I feel compelled to do this. If I keep doing it, maybe I will remember something. Or maybe I am truly mad.

PART I Wizr

PART I

Wizr

CHAPTER ONE Chandleer Oasis

CHAPTER ONE

Chandleer Oasis

Traveling the ley lines was like plummeting over a waterfall. It sent Tryneowy Kiskaddon’s heart racing whenever she stepped into a fountain in one corner of the kingdom, only to almost instantaneously appear somewhere else. In the past, that mode of travel had given her a strong sense of queasiness that would not dispel for hours, but she’d practiced enough that she no longer grew sick to her stomach. No, what was disorienting Trynne was the fact that she’d left Averanche in the morning and arrived at her destination close to sunset.

She had appeared inside a fountain at the front of a palatial manor. As the mist dissolved around her and she heard the bubbling of the waters, she was struck by an oppressive heat that nearly took her breath away. The location was foreign to her, and her eyes filled with wonder as she stepped to the edge of the stone lip of the fountain. She didn’t want to leave the protection of it yet, just in case her summons there had been a carefully laid trap.

With four equally sized quadrants, the fountain was designed to resemble a flower. There were glowing stones in the water—so curious to behold—which gave the water a strange aspect. She didn’t know what made the light, but she knew Chandleer Oasis was part of the Marusthali Desert, located along the major ley line going east and west. Her mother possessed a book of maps, which Trynne had studied all her life, imagining herself in places she’d only heard of by name.

This place was not on it.

She had never been so far from home, but she relished the adventure.

The fountain was in the middle of a paved courtyard. There was a thatch-roofed hut just in front of her. Extending from its side was a pyramid-shaped roof that was bolstered by sturdy stone pillars affixed with stones glowing as brightly as the ones in the water. Beyond the hut was the manor with its many spires and turrets. The courtyard itself was surrounded by a semicircle of pillars supporting timbers and beams and a latticework covered in a variety of grapevines and wisteria, all providing shade over the area. The nearby hedges were meticulously trimmed into square-shaped blocks.

When Trynne swiveled around, she saw a long path flanked by bizarre giant trees she had only seen before in her mother’s books. They were very tall but narrow, like giant maypoles, and their bark bore a strange thatch-weave pattern. The tops of the trees burst into gigantic vibrant-green fronds.

The sound of sandaled feet slapping on stones caught her attention, and she turned again to see a dark-skinned man coming toward her from the shaded pavilion. The doors of the huge manor were being held open by other dark-skinned men wearing turbans.

The man approaching her wore a knee-length tunic the color of whey porridge. It was loose and breathy but embroidered with elegant stitches and patterns. He had a genial smile and bowed his head repeatedly as he approached, his hands pressed together in front of him, his fingers splayed.

“Worthy guest, you are most welcome,” the man said in a heavy accent she’d never heard before, bowing his head yet again. He had a trimmed mustache and goatee and thinning hair on the top of his head. When he reached the edge of the fountain, he dropped to his knees and bowed before her, placing his hands on the ground and prostrating himself as if she were an object of worship.

“Please,” Trynne said, feeling instantly uncomfortable. “Please stand. I didn’t know you would speak my language.”

The bearded man quickly rose to his feet, looking abashed. “I did not mean to displease you.”

His reaction only made her feel more out of place. The oppressive heat had made sweat pop out on her forehead and shoulder blades. The water of the fountain didn’t touch her skirts, but she would not have minded if it did.

“I’m not offended,” she said, shaking her head. “I am unfamiliar with your customs. Are you King Sunilik?”

The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh no, honored guest. I am but your humble servant, Samrao. Come with me, if you please, and I will take you to see him. He will be most honored that you came. If you would follow me?”

Trynne glanced again at the strangeness and beauty of the scene, but her head felt as if it were burning under the intense heat of the dusk. She could only imagine what the daylight hours felt like. She stepped over the edge of the railing, and the waters filled the gap she had left by standing in the pool.

She felt the presence of the Fountain all around her. Its magic thrived in this place, from the sleek vines and grape leaves to the polish on the stones at the edge of the fountain. There was a feeling of peace and serenity that made her less guarded and apprehensive.

As she followed the servant, he made a series of claps with his hands. Veiled maidens appeared from the doorway up ahead, each swaying an oversize palm frond. The air had been heavy and still, so the soft breeze came as a relief.

The interior of the palace bustled with servants and visitors who congregated inside to escape the daylight hours. The air was full of unfamiliar smells—spices and perfumes and the savory scent of dishes she’d never tasted. She followed Samrao across a polished tile floor that was made of marble with flecks of gold in the stone. The manor was not as large as Kingfountain, the royal castle in her realm, but it was impressive in its size and decoration.

Samrao paused to speak to another servant, who rushed ahead to announce them. As they moved through the manor, Trynne felt an increasing sense of self-consciousness. She was the only foreigner in the place. All the servants and citizens were dark skinned with black hair. Their form of attire was very different, the men wearing long tunics and boots and the women wearing brightly colored tunics with intricate patterns and covered by diaphanous veils. Trynne’s hair was much lighter, brown instead of black, with a slight curl to her tresses she could never tame. She had always been diminutive, but she was not weak. As the strangers looked at her, she wondered how many had noted the paralysis that afflicted part of her face.

The main entrance hall backed into a high-ceilinged area that boasted a wall of wood-slat windows. Servants with long hooked poles were adjusting the slats to open them up now that the sun was setting.

Queen Genevieve had received a personal message from the King of Chandleer that Gahalatine had announced his intention to invade the small desert kingdom. He had not asked for Kingfountain to defend him. But he had asked if his youngest daughter could be brought to the relative safety of Kingfountain. The king was a disciple of the Fountain, and the magic had moved him to make his request of the queen rather than of King Drew.

Genevieve had showed the message to Trynne, and both had felt it would be an interesting opportunity to gain more knowledge about their common enemy. And since Trynne was training the Oath Maidens, the young women who would help defend their kingdom, the king’s appeal had felt part of a larger design.

Two heavy wooden doors opened at the back of the hall, leading out to a veranda. It was there that she found King Sunilik waiting for her. Samrao gave a short bow and then slipped away.

Sunilik was not a tall man, only slightly taller than Trynne herself, and she was notably short among her peers. He was middle-aged and very fit and trim, with a touch of gray at his temples and thinning hair. He had a round face, and when he smiled at her, she noticed a gap in his front teeth. His expression changed into one of surprise.

“You are Lord Kiskaddon’s daughter?” he asked with interest. His smile grew even brighter as he stared at her. “I am humbled that the queen sent you. My dear young lady, you are most welcome.” He extended his hands in a tender gesture, and she took them, feeling their warmth. “I am a father of three daughters,” he said. “Each is a treasure to my wife and me.”

“You speak our language so well,” Trynne said, feeling the Fountain’s magic radiating from this man.

She glanced behind him and was dazzled by what she saw. The rear of the estate had a view of a jagged mountain that rose at a tilted angle before dropping precipitously down. There were no trees on the mountain, just red and brown rocks that reflected the fading sunlight in glints and colorful hues. More of the towering trees filled the rear of the palace, but they were eclipsed by the majesty of the pools and fountains spread out in front of her. The fountains were of different shapes and sizes, spilling and blasting beautiful plumes of water into the air. Walkways and bridges interconnected them.

“I can see you enjoy the fruit of our aqueducts,” King Sunilik said with a smile, releasing her hands. He turned and extended his arm. “I did not build this, my lady. I am but the humble steward who inherited a kingdom that was formed centuries ago. This palace was developed by my grandfather, who visited the court of Kingfountain in your realm.” He bowed his head humbly to her.

She shifted her gaze back to the oasis, marveling at the sight of the huge body of clean water amidst the parched desert wasteland. The Fountain could be felt in the trickling of the waters, but she realized it was also flowing from the man beside her. Intuition told her he was doing it deliberately to reveal himself to her.

“You are Fountain-blessed,” she said.

Again, he bowed his head. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I have no chance of defeating Gahalatine,” he said in a resigned tone. “I had hoped Chandleer Oasis would be too insignificant for him to consider. But he is running out of nations to conquer. And when one of his Wizrs arrived and emptied out our pools”—he said it with a shrug, but Trynne could sense the anger lurking behind the words—“I knew we would be overrun. He will give the oasis to one of his other leaders, someone from his spoke of influence. It will be a place where his people come to relax after their conquests. I have worked hard to maintain the oasis and protect its people. But Gahalatine will strip my position from me. That is what he does. I’ve heard too many of the stories to disbelieve it. And the strange thing is that since he, too, is Fountain-blessed, I will probably thank him for taking this away from me.”

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice, not that he could be blamed for it. Trynne, too, had heard about Gahalatine’s unique gift from the Fountain. It gave him such power of leadership that he had gathered to him a mighty host of kings who “wanted” to serve him.

“You said you had three daughters,” Trynne said. “What of the other two?”

King Sunilik beamed proudly. “My eldest is already married and they have a child, my granddaughter. My second is far from the oasis, studying to be a healer. I will need someone to care for me when I reach old age, so I thought it wise to invest in her learning.” He gave her a grin and a wink, but then his manner turned more serious. “It is my youngest, Sureya, who concerns me. The Fountain has whispered to me that I must send her away. I expected it would take a month for me to hear back from the queen. I wasn’t sure Chandleer would even exist as it does by then. It calms my troubled soul to see you here so soon. Will you bring Sureya to safety? I have taught her about my gifts from the Fountain and how they are replenished. She may have the aptitude for it. She is only sixteen.”

“So am I,” Trynne whispered. King Sunilik’s concern for his daughter reminded her of her own father—despite the many demands on his time, he had always made time for her—and her heart ached. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a year.

“Then I feel better already, for you both will understand each other,” he said with his gap-toothed smile.

“How did you know who I was?” Trynne asked him. “Did the Fountain tell you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I have long wished to meet the legendary Owen Kiskaddon, so I learned all that I could about him. One of the things that I learned was that his eldest child, his daughter”—he said the word almost reverently—“had been attacked violently as a child. It was your expression that gave you away, dear one. The side of your face that is paralyzed.” He gestured with his own hand across his left cheek. “If I hadn’t heard the stories, I would hardly have noticed it. But my gift from the Fountain is a keen memory.” He then tapped the side of his forehead playfully. “It has even been called prodigious. I knew that fact about you, saw a small evidence of it when you smiled in wonder, and the memory surfaced. If I have offended, I apologize sincerely.”

Trynne let herself smile despite knowing it was lopsided. Though it had mortified her as a child, she had made an uneasy peace with it. Many suitors were seeking her hand in marriage, and while some were rude and stared at her, most considered her unusual smile an insignificant matter compared with the vast size of her inheritance.

“I’m not offended, King Sunilik,” Trynne said. “And I will gladly take Sureya with me. How long ago did you receive the threat from Gahalatine?”

“Long enough that I’ve been dreading it more each day,” he replied, turning back to the view of the mountains. “My soldiers are hidden in the desert and have been watching for signs of his advance. We will have ample warning before they arrive. That mountain behind us provides great protection.”

Trynne looked back at the rugged, sloping shape. The sky had grown purple overhead, and the stars were winking into view one by one. Only a strip of orange painted by the sun’s fire lit the eastern horizon. When she squinted at the mountain in the dusk, she had the queer sensation that she was being watched. Then she saw it.

There was someone standing on the tallest peak.

A feeling of dread blossomed in her stomach.

“You’ve grown more pale, if that were possible,” the king said in a half-joking manner.

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