Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing)

by Shannon M Yarnold

  “Men!” He cried, “Our journey has been a hard one, and I shudder when I think of what it used to be like, when the army was nothing more than a pretence. Now we are strong and you have served me, the General and Lord Oprend well these two decades. But alas I have news, for ill or well I do not know yet but the plentiful times that we have so enjoyed are drawing to a close; the General has informed me that things will soon be different; we will be invading Terra again, for the final time. It is Oprend's attempt at complete control and we will serve him well. Without him we would not have our beautiful wives, an endless supply of ale and the freedom to do whatever the hell we want!” The men cheered in response and held their glasses high, ale spilling in their enthusiasm. “I have only one other thing to relay, the General has ordered the capture of someone who wronged him. We do not know her name, or what she looks like now, but our orders are iron clad, find her and obtain her. All we have to go on is her age, eighteen summers this year, and the fact she was born with blonde hair and blue eyes. She is important to the General and he wants her found, if we use the right sources I am confident we will find her.”

  The tavern went silent and the men listening intently. This was the kind of order they were used to, find and obtain, no questions were asked and obedience was mandatory. It had always been like this, even back in the beginning when the army was nothing more than a prop, holding no real power. Lord Oprend still used them, mostly as muscle, but a few had worked as his spies and together they had worked hard to become the terrifying force they were now, controllers of freewill, self-proclaimed Gods. They had recruited hard in the first few years and their army was in the thousands, spread now across the whole of Inlo. In Woodstone only one hundred or so were housed, and they were glad of the privilege. To be part of the army was to be protected and men clamoured to be a soldier, but of course the General only recruited the best, and those who were not worthy, or who became deserters or traitors were sent away to The Rune, never to be seen again.

  The night they came fully into power, named That Night secretly by the inhabitants of Woodstone, was the time the army took over Woodstone. It was a time of political strife and confusion, the whole of the lands were feeling the strain of a hard few summers, crops had yielded little and livestock bore few young. Every land and town within it almost all depended on imports of materials and food, it was a hard time to live and Oprend was glad. It worked out perfectly for him, for he had planned it for years, his invasion of Cairon, the capital of Terra, the largest land in the Nation. The conquer of Cairon and therefore Terra would mean control of the whole populace and Oprend craved that more than anything.

  Cairon over the years had become famous for its army, two hundred thousand strong and all loyal to the King. At that time his rule was complete, all Lords reported to him and failure to do so was punishable by either a fine or whipping. No Lords disobeyed and the Nation was happy and prosperous with the omnipresent King. Yet Lord Oprend despised him and the power he wielded, and so he recruited his army far past what would ever be needed for such a small town and he trained them hard. None could ever have guessed the Master he reported to, who had given him the power to raise such a force of soldiers and so finally when That Night came; it was not just men who forced the walls of Cairon.

  In the years after they became known as the Fallen, men and women whose lives were taken from them, who were nothing but shells, who felt no pain and did not bleed. They forced themselves on Cairon, thousands of them, an army larger than any man had ever seen, dragging their rotting limbs and killing all that stood in their path. Cairon's army fought, but how could they ever win against a beast that could not die? Cairon fell, as Oprend intended and as soon as the borders were weakened he sent his army in under the presence of helping rebuild the city and took control. The King was weakened by the invasion and Oprend took advantage of his damage to hold him captive in his castle and place his soldiers in charge. It was a well thought out plan and the death of the King's wife a few days before, coupled with the kidnap of his daughter only helped Oprend's plan.

  Oprend's army stayed in Cairon, expanding their forces throughout Terra until every town had some semblance of the army enforcing it. So it had been for seventeen summers.

  “She could be anywhere, this girl that the General seeks;” the man continued on, “Lord Oprend has the rest of the men looking throughout Inlo, as it would have been impossible for her to have left, and has recruited the help of the other Lords, so our job is to look through Woodstone. We will find this girl, and obtain her. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. Now go, report back here at morning light for further instructions.”

  The men got up noisily, laughing and joking with each other and departed, leaving the Lieutenant-General sitting on the bar. He looked around at the upturned chairs and spilt drinks ambivalently. He remembered what the tavern had been like before That Night. He faintly remembered the owner too, he had been fond of him he recalled, as fond as a soldier could be of a peasant, and there was a woman that always came in, Elina, he remembered, a diamond among weeds. She had married a traitor and given birth to a daughter; the Lieutenant-General had always thought that she was far too good for Andor. He had been glad when Andor was murdered; it meant Elina was a free woman; he would have even taken on Elina’s baby, what was her name?

  “Reminiscing?” A cold voice said as though inside the man’s head, interrupting his thoughts. The Lieutenant-General jumped off the bar and spun around, searching for the owner of the voice, knowing full well that there had been no one in the tavern apart from him and his men. The torchlight quivered and the man felt suddenly deathly afraid, as though his life was threatened.

  “Edward,” the voice whispered, echoing inside his own head. It was unmistakably female. He felt cold spikes inside his mind, probing in his most private areas as though he had been stripped naked and splashed with freezing water. Something, for it was unmistakably something and not his imagination, was deep inside him, forcing its way into his memories and thoughts, filling him with revulsion at the intrusion. He covered his face with his hands as his stomach lurched in disgust. His breathing was laborious and he was lost in his nausea until the sensation of a woman’s fingers brushing against his cheek made him shiver in delight and forget entirely the strange sensation in his mind.

  He had felt this way before he recalled, That Night, all those years ago, when he had been called to Lord Oprend’s Manor and a voice had put him and his men to sleep. They fell where they had stood; his last memory was the outline of a person, black against the darkness of the room. He had always put it down to his overactive imagination, for what else could it have been? That Night was the stepping stone of his career and to include magic would mar his achievements and so he had forced it from his mind. Yet now it was here once more, the same soft and lulling voice and the firm sense of finality.

  “You remember me,” the voice said, “you remember my power. It was I who caused the events of That Night. It was my hand that forced sleep to claim you and my will that murdered the men of Woodstone. Do you remember the corpses? Piled high, limb after limb, covered in blood, glistening in the moonlight,” the voice sounded happy for a moment, as it painted the image before Edward. Edward did not need his memory prompted, at the voice’s words he remembered That Night clearly. The New Year celebration cut short by Lord Oprend’s news that Terra had been invaded and his orders that every man of Woodstone must report to his Manor where he would give them their instructions and weapons. They never made it that far, when the inhabitants spoke of That Night he often heard them refer to a ghost, a harbinger of death, clad in black, who led the men, and then subsequently the women and children, to death. Edward began to understand; the more he remembered That Night the more he pieced the facts together. He really had seen a person That Night in Lord Oprend’s Manor for it was the same person that had effortlessly slaughtered Woodstone’s people.

  No one he cared about but he recalled now the broken and bleedin
g body of Elina Fillamenth, the town wise woman. Found in the light of the morning, her home burnt and her baby daughter crying in her cot. Wynn was taken straight to Oprend Manor, without a family she had become an orphan and with nowhere else for her to go she was taken to the Manor to become a maid and serve in exchange for food and a home. After that the army began rebuilding the town how they wished it to exist. Hard work for the poor and a life of pleasure for the rich, it was the building block of their ethos and General Ricedon prided himself on its continued reign. The army never questioned the General or Lord Oprend, they accepted that the men had been murdered and took control for themselves; it was the perfect way to distract them from the true events of That Night. Edward shivered, realising the enormity of the events that night, the baby girl that had been found in Elina Fillamenth’s home was the same young woman that Lord Oprend paraded as his lover. How had he been so blind?

  “It is so satisfying watching your idiotic mind piece together my plan, yes you are right. I came to Woodstone to murder Elina and I succeeded, it was only after that I realised I had killed the wrong person. As you know, Elina’s daughter was not killed that night. You were thinking about her just now which is just as well because she is central to what I am about to tell you. I am a Magus, Edward. Do not shake like a child, such things exist. Elina was also a Magus and that means that her little brat will be too. Any attempts on the child’s life have been impossible due to the necklace she wears around her neck. I myself tried but was repelled each and every time, I could not touch her let alone kill her with magic. Lord Oprend has become quite besotted with her and will reject plans to kill her, betraying the agreement him and I share. He will of course need to be taken care of. Elina’s daughter has not been a problem but her eighteenth birth-day looms and I fear that Lord Oprend has not broken her will enough for her to be consumed by her powers. This is why you are going to storm Lord Oprend’s Manor and take the girl.”

  Edward could only nod, the information kept slotting together, nearly two decades of his life had been based on a lie, not to mention his childhood. Magic was illegal, wrong, but most importantly it did not exist. He had exiled many a man and woman because they spoke of it or simply because they believed. Was he any different now to them? He closed his eyes and tried to force the voice from his mind, but couldn’t free himself. It had wrapped itself around every corner of his mind and any attempt to block it from his conscious, or think of something else was fruitless. He had never felt anything like this and it smacked of something dark and unnatural. Was he going mad? Hallucinating? The day was over now and the darkness reigned.

  “I am Lord Oprend’s Master,” the voice continued, “I am the one that can make the great Lord bow down. Do you think that man was capable of the feats known infamously throughout the Nation? He is nothing without me. I am his Master, I am your Master and soon I will be the world's Master.”

  Edward gulped but said nothing; it seemed too strange to talk to himself and the things the voice was saying confused him. Who was this woman who spoke inside his mind and claimed to give the orders to Lord Oprend?

  “That is not all, the girl General Ricedon has informed you to find, she is no ordinary girl and she has not scorned him, which is just the lie to tell your men. She is the King's long lost daughter and I want her found! I have worked too hard these past years for her to suddenly show up and claim the crown. Find her and bring her to me.”

  Edward’s mind felt swamped and he opened his mouth but as soon as the words had formed the voice had gone. Nothing remained of the cold chill on the edge of his conscious. He breathed a sigh of relief and slowly left the tavern.

  3

  Wynn sat on the corner of her bed. Her hair hung lankly around her face and her skin was covered in a sheet of sweat. She pressed a cloth to her cheek desperately, her hands shaking. Beside her the new maid sat, taking the cloth once it had soaked through with blood and replacing it with a fresh one. This happened often and the new maid – who had insisted on aiding her – washed each one in a bucket beside her, laying them out to dry. Wynn stared at the wall unblinkingly, lost in a world of pain and nausea, her cheek stung so much that tears constantly fell down her face and it was a will not to weep. In all of her life she had never felt such pain, raw, deep and unmanageable. She did not know what to do with herself, whether to lie down, to keep moving or just curl up in a ball and succumb to the agony. Next to her the girl eased the blood soaked cloth from her grip and handed her a fresh one. Wynn took it automatically, feeling nothing but the searing pain on her cheek. No sadness, no anger, nothing but blinding pain.

  Wynn had not had the will to send the girl away. To move her face an inch hurt beyond comprehension and she had not the energy to speak and so beg the girl to leave. It was private this injury, this pain, and Wynn longed to deal with it alone, to be able to cry and curse her life and maybe sink into the darkness that lingered on the edge of her vision. The new maid prevented any of that, with her here Wynn could not give up. Wynn did not remember how she got to her room, which meant the girl had taken her here, another reason she could not just send her away. The moment Wynn had stepped out of the Master’s room her vision had blurred and her body had crumpled to the floor. She could recall nothing after that but waking up in her room, a cloth pressed firmly to her cheek.

  She did not know how long her wound had bled for, and from a knowledge gained from years of scrapes, falls and beatings, knew that a wound this deep would take a large amount of time to heal; but she also knew that unless she stopped bleeding she would die. It did not terrify her, the thoughts of death. There was nothing to fear when living was such agony. Wynn realised she had loosened her grasp on the cloth and pressed it harder to her ruined cheek, feeling the blood dribble down her cheek, down her neck and onto her clothes. She had not changed out of her uniform and they were soaked in blood, fresh and old. She knew she looked a macabre sight and wished she had the energy to change but knew any unnecessary movements would not help her failing health.

  It was dark outside; the Master had long since retired for the evening, his mysterious friend leaving out the back entrance. The moonlight shone through the window and the branches that scratched the window cast frightening shadows on the door. The room was lit by a candle on the floor and Wynn found herself staring at it again, thinking nothing and feeling nothing, watching the flame dance to an unknown and unheard tune.

  It was then that her hand trembled and she realised the sopping material of the cloth was proving too heavy to continue holding. Beside her she could feel the maid’s worry for her. Wynn blearily handed the cloth to her and turned her eyes to her. The numbness that had overtaken her since she had woken up was leaving and the world was suddenly sharp and red tinged. Wynn could not understand this extra sense, this curse, for it was indescribably a curse. She was beginning to feel again and with this feeling her head suddenly throbbed and her stomach lurched. Wynn could feel the maid's worry as though it was inside her, as if she worried, but it was not overpowering this sensing. It was insistent and present but Wynn could feel for herself, could think her own thoughts, the only difference now was that she could sense the maid's as well.

  “She looks so pale,” the girl thought, her eyes cast down at the bowl of bloodied water.

  Wynn gulped and brushed the hair from her face. The girl had not spoken, her lips had not moved and yet Wynn had heard her. This extra feeling mingled in with her own suffering, heightening it and forcing her to face it head on. At first, in those few desperate and confusing minutes she had tried to simply to ignore it, to shut off the part of her brain that caused this frightening heightened perception. When that proved futile she had wondered if she was actually asleep, dreaming, or hallucinating and what was happening was not true. Yet the pain in her cheek was proof enough that everything was very much real.

  How could this be happening? A sense that by all accounts she should not have, it was not natural to hear another's thoughts or to know how the
y are feeling. Wynn felt like she was drowning and cast her eyes around the room, noting everything had become blurry. It was too much... too much. Wynn fell back onto the bed and everything went black.

  As the light filled the room Elina crawled to her baby and whispered with her final breath, “I grant you this gift, this necklace you wear shall protect you until you inherit your magic. Never forget who you are my darling daughter.” Elina collapsed to the floor, her heart stuttering to a stop as the room became pitch black and silence crept over the cottage. Aerona shook as she rose and walked towards Wynn, her bony hand reaching out to grab her, but light flared around the cot and Aerona was repelled. As the light faded and darkness closed Aerona’s eyes flared blood red in anger. She sent her magic at the cot, intent to destroy the barrier that protected the baby, but the light flared once more and Aerona knew it was futile. With a flick of her cloak she turned on her heel and strode from the cottage...

  Wynn felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. She kept her eyes closed, trying to shake the horror of her dream. It always ended the same way, it should have made it easier to cope with, surely now after seventeen summers she would realise her life was not truly in danger. Yet every morning was the same, except now there was someone in her room, touching her. For the briefest moment she thought Aerona had reached out from her dream but the touch was soft and as Wynn woke further she realised where she was. Inside her mind a vision of colours swam in front of her eyes, the back of her eyelids as the background, she watched the colours distractedly; hoping this time what she saw really was an illusion, brought about by stress. The pain from her cheek was returning, a blinding ache that went right down to her bones. She tried to speak but her mouth felt dry as though she had eaten sand. The hand shook her again and she mumbled in response, wishing to be left alone.