The King's Traitor (The Kingfountain Series Book 3) (32 page)

He felt a blade slice into his arm and realized he was surrounded by enemies. The sting could not be felt over the rush of panic. Owen twirled and swept his blade around. When it struck the knight who had attacked him, he felt the invocation of the sword’s magic. The knight flew backward, leaving his arm in the muck at Owen’s feet. Another knight dressed in a boar tunic charged Owen, but Owen deflected the attack and then used his magic to find the man’s weakness. The sword’s magic was building up again, preparing for another thunderous blast that would repel his attackers.

They came at him in droves, but Owen beat them back, the sword blasting them away like a catapult. His breath came thick and heavy. He was wounded in a dozen places, but the magic of the scabbard kept him alive and on his feet. Bodies of dead kingsmen were scattered around him in a wide arc. Where were his own men? He was in the thickest part of the fight.

The sight of the king filled him with despair, for he sensed the piece on the Wizr board moving.

Owen clenched the blade tightly, summoning its power. But his strength was failing, and Firebos felt heavy in his hand. His cracked lips pulled back into a snarl as Severn approached, a sword in one hand, a dagger in the other. The two men circled each other, but each step Owen took made his head spin, his knees tremble. It felt as if a huge mountain were suspended over him. Was this what Roux had felt the night of his death?

“You thought to beat me!” Severn said with fury. “You thought to wear this crown! Take it from me, boy! If you can!”

Owen knew this was his chance . . . and he also knew that he was doomed to fail. Somehow the king had discovered the power of the Wizr set. Owen could sense the whorl of magic around him, making him heavier and heavier. The pieces had already been moved, and not in his favor.

He let out a grunt of rage and rushed at the king, hefting Firebos high over his head and bringing it down toward the king’s shoulder. But it was like swinging against a huge boulder. The instant the weapon hit the king, the magic repulsed against Owen. The surge of magic would have killed another man. But while his arm went numb, it was the soldiers rushing up behind him who were flattened by the blast. His entire body and arm hurt, and suddenly the king’s dagger plunged into his ribs. He felt the steel slide into his flesh, and his legs turned to water.

Firebos fell from his numb fingers into the snow, where it was instantly covered in hoarfrost.

Owen slumped forward against the king’s body, pain traveling through him in spasms. He saw the fury and hatred melt away from the king’s face as he collapsed into the bloody snow. The world spun recklessly.

The king knelt by his body, staring at him with a strange look of grief and surprise.

“It worked,” Severn said with awe. “The magic worked! I’ll not fail after all!”

Owen lay still, his strength in tatters.

The king picked up Firebos and held it aloft. A clap of thunder broke in the sky. “Victory!” he shouted. “Victory!”

A cry of triumph came from the soldiers wearing the White Boar.

The sickening realization of defeat washed through Owen. He saw the dagger pommel sticking out from his armor. No blood came from it. The scabbard on his belt was the only thing keeping him alive.

The king turned and looked down at Owen with pity. “Take him to my tent,” the king said. “Have my surgeon tend him.”

“My lord!” one of them uttered, aghast. “He’s a traitor! Slay him!”

“He’ll meet a traitor’s death,” Severn said grimly, “
after
we’ve buried this rebellion.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The Black King

“Well, my lord,” the surgeon said, drying his hands on a bloodied rag. “I can’t account for the duke surviving. These wounds would have killed another man. I’ve done all I could.”

The king sat on a wooden camp chair, brooding over the Wizr board and its arrangement of pieces. There were four braziers in the tent, sending up plumes of purplish smoke and warding away the deep winter chill.

“He’s no
ordinary
man,” Severn said with an edge of jealousy in his voice. “And he’s no longer my duke.”

“Forgive me,” the surgeon said in apology, “but I have other wounded I must attend to, my lord. If you’ll dismiss me.”

“Go,” Severn said with a wave of his hand.

Owen had been treated on the king’s own pallet. He slowly sat up, feeling the stitches groan in protest. The empty scabbard, still strapped snugly to his waist, continued its secret work of healing.

“Would you like some wine, my lord?” Lady Kathryn asked, bringing Severn a flagon. He nodded gratefully and took it from her, their fingers grazing. The king’s mouth softened slightly as he looked up into her hazel eyes. Then she returned to the chest where she had been sitting and lowered herself next to Drew, who was staring helplessly at Owen. The boy looked frightened, confused, and miserable. It was the look of a boy whose hopes were being dashed before his eyes. Little did he realize what the king was capable of.

Owen felt the same way, but at least the boy was still hale. Along with the pain of his wounds, his heart throbbed with the torment of failure. He had tried twice to bring down Severn, and he’d failed in both attempts. He’d felt sure the Fountain would grant him its favor, and yet his plans lay dashed to pieces like so much broken crockery.

“Tell me if I have this right,” Severn said musingly, staring at the Wizr board. “I’m the black king here. I just took the white knight. That was you.” His eyes glanced up at Owen and a mocking smile twitched on his lips. “The tower . . . this is Elysabeth
Victoria.
It’s Dundrennan.” He paused, stroking his clean-shaven cheeks. He still wore his battered armor. His knuckles were bruised, but Owen could see his coronation ring on the fist near his nose as he tapped his mouth, deep in thought. “This piece . . . this is Iago. Another white. And down here . . . the Wizr piece. This one has been moving slowly up the board. The white Wizr. That is the Duchess of Brythonica. See the row the piece moves across? If this board represents the kingdom, then these pawns are at Kingfountain, and she came from Ploemeur over here.” He gave Owen a shrewd look. “This isn’t a game. There is real magic here. My brother never told me how it worked or that it was more than just a game. I think I saw him use it only twice. It was a great secret. Now I know it.”

“You are correct, my lord,” Owen said, rubbing his hand along the fur blankets on the pallet. “The magic is real. And the warning I gave you is also real. You’ve broken the rules of the game, and your kingdom will be buried in snow because of it.”

“
Chah
,” the king grunted. A dark look came over his countenance. “You say that because you
lost
.”

“I fought against you because I
knew
it was going to happen.”

The king scowled. “Then why not tell me, Owen? Why the duplicity? You’re like every other person who’s betrayed me. This crown is a curse to whoever wears it.”

Owen shook his head. “It’s a curse because it was never
yours
to wear. There are patterns in history, events that repeat over and over. It began with the death of the first Argentine king, if not before. The king’s nephew, Andrew, was the rightful heir to the throne, but his uncle captured him and had him killed so he could claim the throne for himself. He was the one who started the pattern, but my lord, it must be broken. You
must
relinquish the crown to the rightful heir!”

“And who is that?” Severn asked with a look of utter incredulity. He glanced at the boy cowering by his mother. “Some whelp you’ve
chosen
to supplant me? The only Argentine left is my niece and her brats. I don’t believe in superstition. It will take more than a little snow to convince me.”

Owen clenched his teeth, trying to subdue his frustration. After a moment, he was calmer. Should he reveal Drew’s identity? Or would that risk the boy’s life unnecessarily? He felt nothing from the Fountain to encourage him. “Then what will it take, my lord? The death of every man, woman, and
child
in Ceredigion? I tell you, this storm will not relent until you do. It will bury every one of us.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What do I have to lose, my lord?” Owen pleaded. “You’ve beaten me. I’m a condemned man. But do not let your stubbornness destroy everyone. Forsake the crown. It’s a burden you’ve not wanted.”

Severn rose from the chair angrily. “It’s a burden that was thrust on me! My wife and child were threatened by Eredur’s black-hearted queen and her poisoner.”

“Ankarette never threatened you.”

“And how would you know that?” Severn snapped. “She came to Beestone to murder me before Ratcliffe killed her!”

Owen shook his head. “She came to Beestone to save
me
. She was my friend. My tutor. She’s the one who first taught me about my powers. My lord, I’ve been a traitor to you since I was eight years old, and you never knew it. But a traitor only because I kept secrets from you. The Queen’s Poisoner saved my life and taught me aught I know about duty and compassion.”

“She aided you!” Severn burst out in outrage. The revelation had clearly stunned him. “Ratcliffe was right? Why would she even care?”

“She gave her life so that I might survive. And for no reason other than that she cared about the life of a little boy.” Owen saw Drew from the corner of his eye, but he dared not look at him directly. He hoped the lad felt the meaning behind his words. “I tell you this now so that you might know the truth. You’ve not beaten me, my lord. It was never about
me
. If the game continues on thusly, everyone will die. Including you. The game must go on with the true king. With Andrew’s true heir.” Owen felt a swell of relief in his heart. The secret had finally wriggled loose. It was no longer a burden to him.

Severn started pacing. “And you’ve duped me all this while,” he said with growing passion. “You’ve tricked and manipulated me.”

Owen leaned forward. “Ankarette had a great gift of discernment, and she helped me see the truth about you. She knew you were not the one who murdered your nephews, for she heard your confession to the queen dowager. She was there, my lord, though you did not know it. I’ve served you because you weren’t like the tales everyone told. But you’ve changed, my lord. You’ve become the
very thing
people always feared you were. How can I be loyal to that? How can I stand by while you plan to butcher the children of the realm?” This was another warning to Kathryn and Drew. If Owen could not escape, perhaps they could flee. “Can’t you see you’ve broken every rule? The king is now a law unto himself. That is the danger of the crown. It convinced you that you were above it all.”

Severn shook his head as he paced with a limp. Owen risked a quick glance at Kathryn and saw the paleness in her cheeks, her look of ardent fear. “You cannot understand what it is like,” he ground out. “You cannot know, you with your fair face and long stride. You are young and still not totally corrupted by the world. You do not know what it’s like to be hissed at. To have your own servants mock you behind your back. You don’t know what it’s like to be
hated
, Owen. No one
loves
me. You want me to spare the kingdom? I don’t believe all this fluff you’ve said is true. But even if it were, what has this kingdom ever done for
me
? If I cannot rule it, then no one shall. I’d rather leave it a graveyard.”

Owen’s heart was bleak. “You will go to the Deep Fathoms with this on your conscience?” he demanded.

The king chuckled. “I’d welcome it,” he said snidely. Then he turned back to the board. “I know for myself that magic is real. I saw what you did with this blade,” he said, patting the hilt of Firebos, which was now in his scabbard. “It has shown my mind what it is capable of doing. With this sword and this game, I cannot be defeated. Let’s prove your words.” He stood and gazed down at the board. “The white Wizr is still several squares away. Let me crush the tower, and then I’ll face that scheming duchess from behind its walls with her betrothed as my hostage.” He smiled deviously. “A hostage once again. I think you’re right. This situation is very familiar, is it not? Captain!”

The tent flap opened and Severn’s tall, grizzled captain entered. “My lord?”

“I want Kiskaddon bound and guards set about this tent. No one comes in.” He spared a look at Kathryn and Drew. A pitiless look. “No one leaves until I return. When the castle falls, bring him over to watch it.”

“Aye, my lord,” the captain said gruffly. He produced some irons and quickly shackled Owen’s wrists together. But Owen had meant what he’d said—he did not care about his personal well-being, only about the fate of Ceredigion. His eyes were fixed on the board as Severn hovered over it and then reached down and moved the black king against the white tower.

Owen felt something shift in his mind, the strange magical sensation that accompanied the movement of one of the pieces on the Wizr board. He wanted to rush against the king and stop it from happening, but he could only stare helplessly as the king lowered the lid on the board and locked it in its case.

Stuffing the key into his pocket, he turned to Kathryn. “Wait for me here, Kathryn.” Then he turned to Owen once more. “I’ll give your regards to the Mortimer brat,” Severn said viciously as he left the tent.

Owen hung his head, seething and twisting his wrists against the iron cuffs. The tent was surrounded by soldiers wearing the symbol of the white boar. He could see them through the flaps as the king left.

What could he do but wait for Evie’s army to be destroyed? He felt impotent, furious, and filled with despair. His eyes found Kathryn, still sitting on the edge of the chest, stroking the boy’s flaxen hair with a feverish, protective air, her other arm wrapped around him. “You must set me free,” he whispered.

“To what purpose?” she answered pathetically. “You’re in the midst of Severn’s army, and you’re a known traitor. It is over, Owen. It is all undone.” Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at her son’s face.

She was right, he knew. And it was a torture worse than death to have to listen to Severn’s army attack the walls of the castle of his childhood, knowing all along that he was fated to win. But it frightened him even more to think of what would happen to the children of the realm after he achieved his victory.

And it was in that moment of utter despair that he heard the sound of lapping waters from the distance. His heart began to quicken with hope. It was a familiar sound, a comforting one.
Sinia
.

The tent flap rustled and a woman cloaked in mist entered. The mist dissolved away, revealing Sinia, a determined look on her face. Not a single snowflake stuck to her.

“Who are you?” Lady Kathryn asked, coming quickly to her feet. Drew stood as well, gazing at her in wonder.

“I am here to help you,” she answered with a knowing smile. She looked at Owen, her eyes full of emotion. “I came as quickly as I could.”

“How did you travel without a fountain?” Owen asked eagerly. He’d nearly given up hope.

“The fountains are the anchor points,” she said, “but I can travel anywhere along the line. We do not have time for explanations. First, you won’t need those anymore,” she said, gesturing at the chains securing his wrists. “
Anoichto
,” she whispered. The locks on the cuffs unfastened, and the chains dropped to the fur blanket with a rattling noise.

Owen rose, and she rushed into his arms. He hugged her fiercely, his heart swelling with relief. He looked down at her upturned face.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she whispered to him. “The agony you’ve felt. I can feel it keenly myself. You’re injured, and in pain.” She took his hands and squeezed them hard. “You must go. You must leave the camp immediately. I’m going to call down a storm to end this battle. Take Kathryn and Andrew and flee back to your army. I’ve magicked the guards outside. Get these two far away. Bring them to Brythonica. If you leave now, you should make it before the blizzard overwhelms you. My soldiers will help you escape.”

Owen looked at her in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“The game is ending,” she said. “Severn won’t relinquish the crown, and now he knows too much. He will invoke the curse deliberately.”

“Have you seen this in a vision?” Owen said in despair. “Is there nothing we can do to save the people?”

Sinia was so distraught, it looked like she was in physical pain. “I saw, in a vision, a field of white, with dead soldiers in the snow. There were ravens flying overhead. Owen, I cannot change what I saw. I don’t know what it means, but I know that to prevent the blizzard from destroying the kingdom, I must summon a storm to this place.”