Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing)

by Shannon M Yarnold

  “I have dreamt of you Wynn,” Medea whispered, “every dream you are running, your black hair fanning out behind you, your emerald eyes glinting in the darkness, your necklace golden on your chest.”

  The words stung Wynn unexpectedly, like someone had captured the essence of her life, of her past and future and thrown it in her face. All she had done all her life was run, from the vile soldiers of Woodstone, from the Master, and now from the Fallen and Aerona.

  “What do you know of my necklace?” Wynn asked softly, her hand reaching up to touch it protectively. It was warm to the touch and Wynn stroked the star pendant lovingly.

  “Your mother gave it to you,” Medea replied, “your mother was a fine and powerful woman. The most beautiful person, inside and out.”

  Wynn stiffened, “You knew my mother?”

  Medea sighed sadly, “Many years ago, far before your time, magic was taught by supreme Mages and Magus throughout the Nations. Your mother was a pupil of mine, a talented and loving woman, she was one of my proudest achievements and I loved to hear how she had built a life for herself in Inlo, this was before the army began to control The Wall so stringently, once inside she could not leave and our communications ceased. I was saddened to hear of her murder. It is one of my many pains, and now I am all alone in this home, I have no students to teach. Fifty summers ago the only Seminary in the Inner Nation was destroyed by the King’s order. The current King’s father.”

  “Seminary?” Jareth interrupted.

  “A place of learning,” Medea explained to the travellers, realising none of them would have attended such a thing as a place of education. Wynn digested what Medea had told her. Medea had known her mother, loved her mother dearly it seemed, and had taught her how to use her gift. She felt new tendrils of respect grow for the woman before her, anyone who her mother had loved and been loved by was someone she too could admire. Cook had said the same thing too, that her mother had been beautiful, inside and out.

  “Why would the King’s father do that?” Griffin interjected, breaking Wynn’s musings. Wynn found herself too wondering. Magic had been forbidden for as long as she could remember but it seemed that only fifty summers ago it was legal, practised, normal even. In her mother’s lifetime she had gone from renowned Magus to completely outlawed, a thing feared.

  “For the very same reason Aerona after him tried, and succeeded, to destroy every trace of magic from the history books; fear. He feared those with magic would rebel and take control over the lands. His fears were unfounded, only a small percent wished for domination, and they were kept in line by those who wished for peace. But still he destroyed it, and every record of magic, and those with magic were cast out. They spread out across the lands.”

  Arabella’s eyes widened as she realised the possibilities, “You mean there are more Magus and Mages in the lands... alive?”

  Medea nodded slowly, “They are waiting for the final battle to destroy Aerona and all those who support her. They have known for many years that her corrupted magic would be stopped by the hands of one.”

  Wynn swallowed. Here it was again, the Foreseeing. It was one thing hearing it from Arabella, who Wynn could feel was not lying, and who she knew truly believed that Wynn was the one who was Seen, but hearing Medea say it brought a new clarity to her life. Now it was not just a hunch that Arabella had had; now it was real. She could not dispute this woman, who spoke too quickly and had a strange tone to her voice and accent to her words. The power and knowledge that radiated from her could still the haughtiest of kings.

  Yet it was easy, still, to dismiss the notion. The idea of Wynn amassing enough power to defeat anyone, let alone Aerona, was laughable. A fragment of the nightmare flashed before her eyes, ‘As the room became pitch black and silence crept over the cottage, Aerona shook as she rose and walked towards Wynn.’ It was at that point that the dream always ended and Wynn woke in a fit of terror, a scream escaping her quivering lips. Aerona had haunted her dreams for nearly eighteen summers; Wynn had inadvertently nursed the horror of the dream, imagining Aerona as the epitome of her fear. Finding out Aerona was alive and intent on murdering her had been just the first of many revelations that rocked Wynn’s perception of life. Now, hearing Medea claim Wynn was the Foreseen, a being foretold to rid the land of evil, was like the final slap in the face. Either Wynn would crumble under the force of that contact or it would force her to retaliate. Both options were undesirable.

  Yet Wynn was intrigued, how many times in her life had she wished to know more, to understand? Here was the chance to ask a Seer. Wynn may not believe her predictions of Wynn’s destiny, but she would amass as much information as possible before dismissing it completely. “What have you dreamt of me?” She asked the Seer, hoping her voice was even.

  Medea ran her fingers through her grey hair. Streaks of black ran through it like fire. Her eyes were small and cat like, but she had an unquestionable grace in her actions that made her look younger. Her wrinkles and hair contrasted with her intelligent eyes.

  “I have dreamt of your death and of your victory, I have dreamt of this exact moment; you standing before me, the image of you mother, with more power than she could ever have controlled,” Medea looked up at her and took a small breath, “and of a sibling; a sibling strong and noble but with a dark and dangerous future ahead of them.”

  Wynn frowned, “A sibling? I have no family.”

  Medea looked up at her sadly, crossing her hands and then leaning upon then, whilst she gazed at Wynn, “You do.”

  “I fear you are mistaken,” Wynn said slowly, fearful of upsetting the powerful woman. She would not know that Wynn had spent her entire life alone in Oprend Manor; she could not have known the heartbreaking loneliness that would have been broken by a sibling.

  “I am not mistaken!” Medea said briskly, “Your mother had a baby boy three summers before you, a mistake to be sure but a baby none the less.”

  Wynn’s mouth became dry. A sibling, a brother of her own flesh and blood, it was yet another slap, another blow to her preconceived idea of life. Wynn swallowed painfully and blurted out hoarsely, “Who is he, is he alive?”

  “He is the son of Inlo’s General, and at this moment he is being taken to The Rune. A fine, strapping lad, with a noble heart, a son your mother would have been very proud of. She named him Byron and Byron he is still.”

  Wynn’s heart almost stopped at the mention of Byron. It was impossible. She thought of every conversation she had had with him, reassessing everything they had ever said to each other. She thought of the unquestionable bond she had instantly felt with him. Her brother, her heart filled with love and the dark void she had felt inside her lessened just a bit. She was not alone, she had her friends and she had a brother. Her amazed thoughts ran dead and her stomach went cold as she considered: if they were siblings and the General was Byron’s father...

  “Who is my father?” She had never thought of a father, she had no need to consider the man that had made her; it would not have changed her life or her future. But the thought of her father being Woodstone’s General made her want to claw at her skin and retch.

  Medea smiled understandingly, “Oh you are siblings only through your mother’s blood. Three summers before you were born your mother had a relationship with Woodstone’s General. You have to understand this was over twenty summers ago, long before Woodstone became the heart of Inlo and Lord Oprend its King. During the relationship Byron was conceived, and the General was proud to have Elina on his arm, they lived happily for three years, but Elina soon discovered what he was truly like, what he was planning for Woodstone, and broke off their relationship. She met a man soon after, Andor, a soldier under the General. You were conceived a few months after, during which Andor gave Byron back to the General, as he could not stand the thought of the General’s seed in the same house as you and your mother... Your father was murdered.”

  Wynn choked back a sob. Both her parents were murdered. Their lives ended fo
r what? Jealousy and a misreading of an old, dust covered Foreseeing. And Byron, all these years she had been separated from him, her brother, her half-brother. If they both had known would her life have been easier? Could he have whisked her away from the heartache of working at Oprend Manor? Wynn did not, for one second, doubt Medea’s words. Maybe, before she had killed the Master and felt the raw power of magic in her veins, she would have scoffed at the idea of a brother, at the revelations Medea produced. But everything was different. Wynn had felt the indescribable pull of love for Byron and did not dispute for one moment that they shared a connection. It was not that which stilled her frantic thoughts, ‘I have dreamt of your death and of your victory.’ It was clear Medea was serious when she spoke of the Foreseeing and Wynn filling the role. Wynn would, it seemed, be in serious danger the moment she reached her eighteenth summer.

  “My death?” Wynn whispered. It was less than three weeks since she had killed the Master. The thought of the dagger she had used made her palm throb. The feeling of the hilt as the blade pushed through his flesh like butter and plunged into his heart...

  “Ah, death, the great bridge between life and the unknown. It fascinates me death, does it you? What happens in that moment? We cannot ever know,” Medea sighed forlornly, “yet all must take the journey. Death is not what we should fear, death is merely the end, it is how we die that should terrify us. There are things much worse than passing. Luckily for you, you do not need to worry of such things. The necklace you wear, enchanted by your mother, will protect you. You cannot die until the magic dissipates, on your eighteenth summer.”

  Wynn nodded, confused, she could not die? But the truth of Medea’s words were stark and Wynn was not going to argue. She could testify to the horrors of life and how many a time she had wished for the simple release of death. The one thing which ended all pain and sorrow with a finality that could not be denied, no, Medea was right, death was not fearful. Yet it did not answer her question.

  Medea smiled coyly and in that moment Wynn saw the raw power in Medea’s actions, saw the knowledge she held, “There are many possibilities once you step foot out of this door.”

  Of course, Wynn thought, “How do I know what decision is the right one?” Wynn feared stepping out of Medea’s broken home and not knowing where to go. The compulsion to visit Medea had been sudden and now she had fulfilled it, it had gone. Her future was a blank page, a path never walked before; her mouth was dry as she considered it.

  “A man can be shown a thousand paths but only he can choose the one he walks,” Medea said softly, “I can direct you, but I cannot tell you what to do. Your future changes because you yourself have not decided how to walk it.”

  Wynn stared at her and nodded slowly, she had assumed that Medea’s power of Seeing gave her unlimited knowledge of the world, but having experienced Medea’s life she realised Seeing was an erratic and almost uncontrollable gift. Medea could give only snippets of information for she herself only Saw flashes. Medea spoke the truth, of course she did, but it did not ease the panic flaring in Wynn’s chest. She felt suddenly and powerfully alone, with no idea what to do. So much was expected of her but none offered any direction. Only Wynn could choose which direction she took once she left The Widow’s house, it may have been true, but some advice, however small would help. She could be shown a way but it was her choice whether to take it, yet she felt she did not even have a choice anymore. No one had asked if she wanted the responsibility of the Foreseeing...

  “Do I look familiar?” Medea smiled and Wynn’s eyes snapped back to The Widow’s face, assuming she was speaking to her, but Medea was looking at Arabella. Arabella nodded dumbly and she replayed in her mind when she had read the Tarot cards for Wynn, and what she had found, “The High Priestess. It is the card of knowledge, instinctual, supernatural, secret knowledge. She holds important information that she is at liberty to disclose, if she so wishes. The moon crown on her head shows her willingness to illuminate what you otherwise might not see, reveal the secrets you need to know in order to make a decision.”

  Wynn gasped in shock, once again the Tarot cards had predicted correctly. She regarded Medea carefully; ignoring the unspoken questions of the travelers, here sat the tarot card The High Priestess. She had no moon crown upon her head, but Wynn knew the cards were not a definite prediction, and either way Medea matched the description. Arabella’s awe for the woman increased tenfold and Wynn felt her decision to come here instantly justified. Wynn glanced at Arabella and they shared a moment of disbelief.

  Medea, however, had moved her attention to Braelyn. She stood stiffly next to Wynn and beside Griffin, almost taking shelter between them. Her long, blonde hair felt down to her waist and in the golden light of the candle looked the finest silk, her blue eyes stayed on the ground. Medea’s mouth curled into a smile, “Braelyn, I too have dreamt of you.”

  Braelyn’s head snapped to look at The Widow and her eyes widened.

  Medea gestured into the air, “You have a part to play in this, in the times to come, however impossible that seems.” Medea leant forward, “You have your mother’s eyes, and her complexion. You remind me greatly of her, I did not know her, but she was renowned throughout the lands, when peace reigned and sadness was never known. She died many summers ago in childbirth. You are your mother’s daughter... and the rightful heir to the throne.”

  The traveller’s eyes spun to Braelyn who stood perfectly still, her eyes widening even further with shock. Heir to the throne... now it was Braelyn’s turn to grip Wynn’s arm and her hold was vice like. Wynn felt her shrink back into herself, as though she would disappear from Medea’s penetrating stare. Wynn wrapped her arm around her and listened to everything Braelyn was not voicing aloud. She was screaming inside herself in shock and fear but underneath it all, behind all the rage and surprise, the small girl who longs for her mother’s arms to shelter her from the world was crying out for the mother she never knew. There was not a second of denial in Braelyn’s mind; she accepted what Medea said instantly. The Widow held such power, such authority that the travellers viewed her with reverence.

  “I do not understand,” Braelyn whispered. Her hope was painful, she was desperate not to be disappointed and she clung to Wynn as though that connection would save her.

  Medea smiled at Braelyn softly, “Your late mother was Queen Calantha and your father is the current ruler of Terra, King Dianis. You are heir to the throne and a Princess. You were stolen at birth by Inlo’s ruler Lord Oprend and saved by Lord Oprend’s cook, he ordered the orphaned children to be sent away and so you were passed between families until you were old enough to work...”

  “Are you sure?” Braelyn said hoarsely. It matched her earliest memories, different colours, smells, strange hands hugging her, passing her around, whispering comforts that she was too young to understand. Medea followed Braelyn’s thoughts and simply nodded in response. It was all Braelyn needed, the confirmation of who she was, who her family had been. For so long she had been alone in the world and now suddenly she had kin and a past. Relief that she had found her family swirled through Braelyn and sadness that because of the greed of Lord Oprend her father had suffered for seventeen summers without her. Wynn knew it true, did she not dream of Braelyn every night? The strange baby who lay asleep in Lady Oprend’s arms, the same baby Cook had stolen and inadvertently saved. The pieces continued to fit perfectly, their lives twisted together unquestionably.

  “I need to go to him,” Braelyn said suddenly, pulling herself away from Wynn so she could look at her. Wynn nodded slowly, of course she should, but he was in Terra, so far away. Yet that path was right for Braelyn, Wynn could feel it in her heart, she had never believed in Lady Fate but now her eye was cast over Braelyn it made complete and perfect sense that Braelyn return home to Terra.

  “Is there any way we can send her to her father?” Wynn asked Medea, thinking of how she had transported them here and wondering if she could do it again. Fatigue pulled on her bo
dy like a weight, would using that amount of magic and energy be fatal? She could not die...

  “Of course, are you not a Magus?” Medea said sternly interrupting Wynn. Wynn replayed her life; her years at Lord Oprend’s Manor had taught her that she was nothing. A servant. She was expendable and it was only through sheer luck that she had not been killed or worse... Her thoughts twisted in her brain, of her new found family and of her life at Oprend Manor... Wynn shuddered at the thought of the men which had graced Lord Oprend’s doors. No more than beasts. She had owned nothing save a cotton dress... except the book which lay snugly in the leather bag across her body.

  “The book?” Medea said suddenly.

  “What book?”

  “The book that you stole from Lord Oprend.”

  Wynn frowned and stared at Medea. She did not steal it, the word stung, but of course she had stolen it and taken it away from the Manor and had it here against her body, desperate not to leave it behind. Slowly and reluctantly Wynn took the book from the satchel and handed it to Medea, the bag felt odd and light without its weight.

  Medea frowned as she read the title, Wynn tried in vain to study Medea’s expression, since she had no other way to determine what she was thinking and feeling, but Medea’s face had gone pointedly blank. The silence was complete in Medea’s little house. The candles flickered and the wind forced the boards to creak noisily. The tension was thick and Wynn swallowed nervously, as though waiting for a huge revelation.

  “You don’t know what this is? Do you?” Medea said.

  “No,” Wynn admitted, “I cannot read.” And she had never shown it to any of the travellers, Jareth could have read it for her, or Arabella, but she had not wished to give it to them.

  “This... this is a book of black magic. No other copies exist supposedly, it certainly would be extremely difficult to find one now. All were burned fifty summers ago when magic became forbidden.”