“Oprend was right about you, you are dazzling,” the man whispered in Wynn’s ear, his warm breath brushing against her face, the men that lined the walls murmured in agreement, “and it is good to see you without blood pouring down your face,” he continued, smirking. Wynn glared back at him, her eyes cold, she promised herself she would not be afraid. Who was this man that held such power, a man of the army she knew, but what position? She studied his emotions through the fog and knew instantly. The General, the most feared man in the land, who controlled the army and brought fear to the hearts of all who encountered him. A shiver ran down her spine and she prayed he had not noticed it.
From his position behind the bar – the soldiers stood in front of him so he was completely hidden from view – Bryon could see everything in the gaps between the bodies. He had been moved shortly after the beating which had left his left eye swollen and his nose a worrying shape and now was wishing more than anything that binds that held him to his chair were not so adequately tied. The chords cut deep into his wrists, burning and slicing in equal measure. He had looked up when Wynn was flung into the semi darkness of the tavern, saddened to his core; he had prayed she would escape. He watched the General walk over to Wynn and heard him speak to her. ‘“And it is good to see you without blood pouring down your face.”’ The words almost made Byron scream in rage, almost, but he was not stupid, he knew his silence was the only thing keeping him alive for now, and he wished more than anything to be alive, for the chance to free Wynn.
He kept quiet now as he watched the General grin and rub his hands together. Wynn stood upright, hands bound; facing the General with more courage than Byron could ever have mustered himself. The moonlight bathed everyone in its silvery glow; it created monsters out of the men, but an angel out of Wynn. It shone against the blackness of her hair, outlining her silhouette. Byron noticed the long thin cut on her cheek, realising this was what the General had been talking about, and felt anger bristle at the Master for causing Wynn such pain. He was glad he had been murdered, if Wynn had not done it he was sure he would have.
As he watched he tried to get Wynn’s attention by look alone, willing with everything he had for her to turn her head and look between the bodies of the army men and see him behind the bar, but she was looking around her, taking in every inch of the tavern and its men. The General circled her, ran his hands through her hair, but all the while her eyes remained blank. He eventually stopped in front of her and ran his finger along her healing cut, she shuddered, a look of complete distain washing over her face.
“It is such a shame, you would have made an excellent courtesan,” the General sighed, as though mourning a great loss.
The soldiers around him bristled and the room grew tense with suppressed excitement, Wynn could feel the men’s lust, their eyes exploring her, she wanted to shrink away and hide but she knew the moment she showed weakness they would overpower her. She knew they remembered the night she had sung and now she held the reputation of murderer; the men were cautious of her, even if they did not show it. It was as though she was torn between nausea and the desire to hurt the General. He was exactly like the Master, his wandering eyes and emotions that screamed disgustingly to Wynn.
Byron twisted his hands frantically from behind the bar, knowing that the rope would not be so easily untied but unable to do nothing. He swore under his breath and continued turning his hands around and apart from each other, trying to wrench his wrists free of the pain that constricted him. He focused entirely on his binds; he needed the perfect moment...
Wynn closed her eyes and allowed herself to fully feel the flood of emotions that had bombarded her the moment she stepped in the tavern. The men felt nothing but curiosity, loyalty to the General and lust, and she found herself easily ignoring it now, there was something different among them, a feeling of desperation, as she focused on it, it overwhelmed her senses and she realised with a turn of her stomach that Byron was behind the counter, hidden by the soldiers, too a captive. And he was in pain, so much that she was shocked he had not fainted. He was frantically trying to break free of the ropes that bound him, his only thought her freedom.
“Boys,” the General smiled cruelly, interrupting Wynn’s concentration, “get me a chair.”
A chair was handed to the General almost instantly; he forced Wynn to sit on it and untied her arms. The darkness of the tavern and the coldness of the night made the General far more frightening as he loomed over Wynn. The chair was hard and cold against her skin and her body ached. But she refused to give in; she carried on sensing everyone around her, discovering their weaknesses. The smell of the men disgusted her. They were no more than beasts with carnal desires and appetites to match.
The General circled Wynn, his eyes boring into her shaking frame. She felt anger build inside her that no one could stop him or his army, that they ruled completely unchallenged. As her anger built she felt her hands tingle as though they had been plunged into freezing cold water. She clenched them in fear of what would happen, Arabella’s previous thoughts rung in her head, ‘erratic and unpredictable,’ her magic was dangerous. She forced her breathing to slow but the General was speaking, whispering threats and desires and her anger was building.
At that same moment Byron made a decision, he knew the General would not just be satisfied with capturing Wynn, he would want a reward, and that was something he could not allow to happen. Bound and weak he stood suddenly up, taking the chair with him and headed towards the soldiers, a murderous intent circling his emotions.
Wynn’s eyes widened as she sensed Byron’s intent, he would be easily overpowered in his bound state. She thought quickly, Arabella had been clear that her magic was dangerous, but only because emotions could hinder and distract, if she concentrated, concentrated harder than she ever had on Byron and only Byron, her half-formed plan may work. She waited then, ignoring everything but Byron, focusing her entire being on his actions timing it just right.
Byron launched himself at the nearest soldier, pushing him to the ground with his shoulder, his movement restricted because of the chair he was still bound to. The rest of the soldiers and the General spun around to see what had caused the commotion and Wynn took her chance, she waved her hand at Byron, focusing on the ropes and chair that restrained him and they exploded from Byron, the shards missing him entirely and finding the backs of nearby soldiers, freeing his hands. Byron looked at her then, in confusion and admiration, but did not linger. With practised hands he grabbed the dagger of the closest soldier and fought his way through the throng. He had stabbed five men before the General could react.
In the midst of the chaos Wynn heard Byron scream for her to run, she wanted nothing more than to help him but took the chance that Byron had given her and ran out of the tavern. The men who had stood guard outside recovered faster from the chaos and advanced on her. Devotion to the General filled her, forced upon her from the emotions of the soldiers that threatened to surround her. She closed her eyes and pushed against them in her mind, her palms facing outward towards them, imagining knocking them from their feet. The sound of yelling and glass breaking filled her ears and she opened her eyes to see all seven of the men that had been advancing on her lying motionless in broken window panes of the cottages that surrounded them. Blood poured down the stone walls.
Wynn wanted to stare, to try and understand what had happened, revulsion at their death hung in her throat and bile rose, but she swallowed and forced it down, she would not let Byron’s distraction be wasted.
She concentrated on each one of the travellers, using her mind to hold them. She found Rueben in a cottage nearby and wrapped her conscious around him too. She then thought of the plains, wishing herself and the travellers there. The journey lasted a few seconds; her skin tingled from the force of moving through the air. She landed disjointedly onto the ground, face first. Slowly she forced herself to open her eyes. Vast barren plains stretched for miles, dark in the night, the moon casting a faint
shimmer over the sand.
Wynn realised she had taken them to the plains that surrounded Woodstone. The town was a speck in the distance and she knew it would take at least a day for the army to organise themselves and get to where they were. She wanted to yell in triumph but her body would not do it, beside her Theodore, Griffin and Jareth were wakening groggily. Arabella had freed her hands – leaving them bloodied and raw - and was ripping the bag from her head with utter relief. Braelyn was struggling from her binds but could not make the same effort Arabella had to release herself. Wynn wanted to run to them, to ask if they were well, but sleep pulled at her, drawing her in. Her eyes closed and she fell deep into a troubled slumber.
The sun beat down fiercely on Wynn’s face, she screwed her eyes against the glare but the bright yellow light found its way determinedly into her conscious. The heat was immediately stifling and she found she could not remember where she was or why she had dust up her nose and in her mouth.
“She’s awake,” a distant voice called. Wynn could not make out who it was. She felt utterly helpless, her body was heavy and sweltering and she could not make it move, no matter how much she willed it. A hot wind fluttered her clothes and dust was blown around her, she moved her face and more dust went up her nose. Someone lifted her up gently and put her in a sitting position. Coughing she cleared the dust from her face, lifting her eyes upward. The glare of the sun made silhouettes out of those standing around her.
“Where am I?” She croaked, her tongue seemed swollen, it hurt to talk and she tasted blood. I bit it when I landed, Wynn remembered. She then became aware of her body; her wrists were red and cut from binds, her lips cracked from the heat. Someone knelt down in front of her, someone with blonde hair. It blew in the wind, around the person’s face.
“Wynn, its Braelyn. We’re in the plains,” her voice was soft, comforting. Wynn frowned, and suddenly the night replayed in her mind, their capture, their escape, Byron’s sacrifice and Rueben’s betrayal.
“I remember,” Wynn said simply, she could not bring herself to say more. Brushing the hair from her eyes she shakily stood up. The heat of the plains created mirages out of the travellers, she had to concentrate hard on their forms, and when she did she saw they were watching her, their eyes wide, the expressions unreadable; Wynn was glad then that she was able to feel exactly what they were feeling, awe mostly, that she had saved them, and relief she was alive. She caught snippets of their thoughts, as all were thinking too quickly of too many things for her to hear them all coherently.
“...how did she do it...?”
“...she is strong, maybe stronger than Arabella...”
“...she looks so tired...”
“...maybe she is the Foreseen...”
Wynn ignored their thoughts, they were thinking things that she had no answers to or could not face, how had she done it? She made her eyes move on and they rested finally on Rueben. He sat on the ground a few feet away, his head lowered; a tiny pool of blood lay around him, soaked into the cracked ground. She was surprised that she was not angry or upset at the sight; she felt nothing for the boy that had betrayed them.
“What happened to him?” She asked, rubbing her eyes, the beating certainly had not occurred in the presence of the soldiers.
“He was taught a lesson,” Griffin said bluntly, his voice hard. Wynn nodded despondently as she saw flashes from Griffin, he was remembering Rueben’s ‘lesson’, and looked at the rest of the travellers. Having ascertained that Wynn was alive and well they had drifted off, Jareth was cracking his knuckles menacingly, his emotions cutting. Arabella was some distance away making the dust around her move, practising her magic, her limitations last night echoing in her mind. Theodore had moved towards Rueben and was kneeling beside him, talking quietly, Rueben refused to answer.
Clearly they were safe for the time being; Wynn wandered off a few feet away from the travellers and looked out at the horizon. She stretched, noting how her body ached. Her dress shifted as she lifted her arms and she felt a strange weight in her apron. She looked down and fished out the book she had stolen from Lord Oprend. In the light of day it looked smaller, less of a victory against the Master and more of a mystery. It did not represent what it had, but it still was a precious as the day she had taken it. She stroked the leather distractedly, wondering how it had not fallen from her pocket during the night.
Thinking of the book only opened the channels to start thinking of the Master. So much had happened in such a small amount of time. Wynn’s mind raced, repeating everything, reliving it. She had murdered the Master, run away from the Manor, been captured by the army, been saved by Byron by sacrificing himself, and she had used magic to move her and the travellers from Woodstone to the plains. The enormity of it all would not sink in and she remained for the moment in denial, that it was all a bad dream and she would wake from this nightmare in her bed at Oprend Manor, and have to serve the Master as normal.
She felt an intense relief, as if a pressure had been removed from her chest. Wynn looked around at the plains, realising it was the furthest she had ever been from Woodstone. Had it always been this hot in Woodstone? Surely not, frost was coating itself over the town and winter was setting in. It was like she was stepping out of a dream into reality, Woodstone had wounded her in so many ways, crushed her until she was sure she was dying, tearing away all her family and leaving her completely alone, but she had escaped, she had stepped from the nightmare, from the coldness of servitude and was free to feel the heat of the world.
She felt a mixture of emotions, and was unsure how to act upon them. She was unquestionably relieved that she was alive and free from the binds that once held her; her birthplace had held such suffering. It dawned on her that although she was now wanted by the army, by probably the whole of Inlo, she now was free. Free. The very word made her smile, she wanted to scream it, to dance with joy, her freedom meant more than anyone would know. Free of the Master and his seductions, free from a life of back breaking work, free to choose how she would live. And yet, however much this new future terrified her, and however happy she was at leaving Woodstone behind and joining the ranks of the free, she could not ignore the magic pulsing through her body like a heartbeat.
Wynn did not hear Braelyn walk up to her, “Wynn, you saved our lives,” she said softly. Wynn jumped and looked at her, torn from her thoughts, and then at all of travellers. They had all stopped what they were doing and were looking up at Wynn, all solemnly nodding in agreement. Wynn shrunk away from their awed expressions, not able to meet their eyes. She certainly did not deserve it; she had acted instinctively, completely ignoring Arabella’s stark warnings. If anything she had put them all in danger.
“I don’t know what I did; it just happened,” Wynn replied quietly, she shifted the direction of the conversation, “Byron was the one who created the distraction.”
At the sound of his name Wynn’s stomach clenched, she had no idea whether he was alive. She had never felt such a bond with a man, it was in no way sexual or loving, she saw no man that way, it was as though they had suffered similar fates, and were tied together in an inexplicable way. She vowed she would search the lands to find him again. The travellers all walked together again, meeting back beside Rueben unconsciously, the need to be close evident in all their emotions. Arabella stood beside Wynn.
“He’s alive,” she said, squinting in the sunlight, “Byron. For now at least.”
Wynn’s heart fluttered, he was alive. She ignored the fact that Arabella was answering her thoughts, instead of what she had said aloud, she would have to get used to that, at least around those with the gift.
“We have a lot of work to do. Now is not the time for explanations, you have what? Less than two months before you inherit your powers? Time is of the essence, if you don’t know how to control your magic by then, it’s more than us who will suffer,” Arabella continued.
Wynn nodded, feeling all at once Arabella’s pride that Wynn had saved them; jealous
ly that it was not her magic that had defeated the army, and distrust. Wynn realised it would take a very long time for Arabella to trust her and even like her. She was a very guarded and private person and it made the fact that Wynn could sense her emotions even more uncomfortable.
“The capital, Kingly, is the closest town from here,” Griffin said, “we are now Inlo’s most notorious criminals and I am sure the General will recruit soldiers from all the towns in Inlo to ensure our capture. We will need to move fast.”
With a grunt Griffin yanked Rueben to his feet. Rueben swayed uneasily, his head still down and a few drops of blood fell from his face to the scarlet ground beneath him. Wynn wondered again briefly at his condition, but realised from the other traveller’s animosity that asking would incite more anger, Rueben did not look like he could take another beating. Instead she impulsively reached her mind out to him. Instantly she felt his pain, she had never willingly asked to feel what another felt, the feeling was stronger than normal; she had to use all of her strength not to cry out in agony and not to sway as Rueben did as his afflictions became hers. Once inside his mind she searched his memory and found that when they had landed, Griffin and the others had beaten him to within an inch of his life for betraying them. His memories matched those that she had felt from Griffin.
Wynn pulled away from Rueben, tired from the use of magic and focused back on the present. Griffin was forcing him to stand on his own, and informing him that he would be walking unaided to Kingly.
Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) Page 15