Sighing Wynn walked over to her pack in the corner of the tent, brushing aside the clothes given to her by Wolf and opened her pack. She ate some food, hungry out of boredom, it tasted like dust in her mouth and she washed it down with a swig from her water bottle. Once she had finished she continued to pull everything out of the pack until she found the Dagger of Night wrapped in her spare shirt. She unfolded it and set it on the ground, feeling suddenly anxious to touch it. She had wrapped it up in her shirt, afraid that Wolf would object to the strange weapon. Now as she stared at it she was glad it had remained hidden.
The Dagger of Night continued to swirl with darkness, made of shadows yet whole to the touch. A quick glance at the dagger would reveal it to be quite plain but as Wynn inspected it now the dagger’s deadly beauty was astonishing. The blade, though completely black shined in the light if it was tilted and that shine told the user that it was truly a blade and something to wield with caution. The swirling of the darkness, with light grey wisps through it reminded Wynn of smoke as it twisted and writhed in the air. She thought of the many times she had blown out a candle and watched the smoke drift off into the air, dancing its last dance, to be lost forever. That same writhing beauty was captured in the Dagger of Night.
It was mesmerising to watch; slowly Wynn picked up the Dagger of Night and held it firmly in her grasp. It felt light in her grip and she could imagine that made it far more deadly than a conventional dagger, for the wielder did not need to exert as much force for the blade to slice through the air and meet its target. She sat back onto her heels, simply holding it. But soon that feeling was not enough and she had the strangest and strongest desire to see what would happen if she sent her own magic into the dagger. Cautiously she sent her magic into the dagger and as it connected with the glaring energy of the weapon the tent in which she had been crouched instantly dissolved and was replaced with a world of darkness.
Wynn was not lost in the darkness for long before images began to flash before her eyes. A group of men and women, huddling together in a blacksmith’s, while the blacksmith himself hammered a golden object on an anvil, flickered consistently. Wynn was scared to move in case she interrupted the images. It was as though the dagger was relaying a memory, one of brilliant poignancy that needed to be seen, so she stood silently, trying desperately not to breathe as the image continued to play in front of her. The men and women of the memory suddenly began to chant and the words exploded against the darkness so that they echoed around Wynn. She listened but could not understand them; they spoke in the ancient language and Wynn knew then that what she saw was the making of the Dagger of Night; the men and women were Magus and Mages and they were infusing the dagger with magic.
As she watched she began to feel lighter and lighter. Dreamily she lifted her palm close to her face and saw her skin writhe and become black. Somewhere, deep inside herself she felt her heart leap into her mouth in fear. Here in this world of darkness she felt small and insignificant. She stood still, surrounded by the choking blackness for what felt like years, time meant nothing here, she was not in time, or out of it, time itself did not exist and so she could not trace its passing. But slowly – it felt slow to Wynn but it could have been a matter of seconds – she was slowly disappearing, becoming nothing more than a shadow. A long moment after she realised the world of the dagger was dangerous and she was disappearing, she found the will to think. Where is my magic, the store inside me that makes me formidable? She wondered. In this world Wynn was nothing and everything. She was changing, morphing until she was unsure of her name, her life. She felt the blackness begin to infuse with her skin, clawing its way deeper into her body. She tried weakly to refuse; to shield herself, but the dark continued slowly wrapping itself inside her. Where am I? Wynn thought slowly, her mind filled with the thick night, clouding her judgement. Who am I? And suddenly she managed to laugh, she had been asking herself that question since she was a child and now that she was here in the world of darkness and had lost her name and identity she asked herself again. I am a Magus, a sister, a daughter, a friend, nothing more and nothing less, Wynn thought determinedly and her skin began to writhe and regain its pale pink hue.
Once her skin and being had regained normality Wynn felt sure enough to look around the world once more. With her senses she could hear creatures padding their way around her, or flying above her head, their wings beating loudly in the eerie silence, all the creatures snarled menacingly at the new arrival, but did not approach her.
Wynn thought back to Medea, “The Dagger of Night will give you the respect of those that dwell in the shadows; they will do your bidding.” And Wynn understood, the creatures would never attack her whilst she wielded the dagger, these creatures locked inside this dark abyss were some of the formidable creatures Medea had spoken of. I will not truly understand myself until I have felt the good and evil within me and within this life, a voice said suddenly in her ear and she realised she was speaking to herself. She nodded at what the voice had said. I have felt the evil in this life, she thought sadly, but refused to recall the events of the past, she feared without understanding why, that to think such thoughts in this place would be dangerous. The evil in myself, she thought slowly, I am not evil, my actions maybe... but they were done with good intentions. Surely that was not what she had meant.
From far off she heard a small voice calling her back, Wynn realised she should reply but her voice was lost in the dark and she found speaking aloud was impossible.
“Wynn!” The voice shouted again.
Wynn listened carefully and followed the direction of the voice and suddenly fell back into her world. She dropped the dagger and hastily covered it up with her spare shirt and spun to look at the owner of the voice. Wolf stood at the entrance of the tent, her brow furrowed questioningly.
“What were you doing?” She asked. Wynn went to shrug, to brush off the question but something about Wolf inspired trust. She motioned for her to come closer and Wolf crouched beside Wynn.
“I cannot explain in words, for I do not entirely understand it myself, I hold with me a dagger, forged long ago, fused with the strongest of magic. I fear it as much as I fear Her and yet I feel I must wield it. Where I was... I was inside its world, if that is what it can be called. It is a place full of darkness; no light can pierce such black. I was lost, drawn by a force that I cannot understand, and wandering, I certainly felt no inclination to return here. Your voice welcomed me home.”
Wolf looked at her for a long time, studying her face; she leant back and sat down, crossing her legs. Wynn kept her gaze firmly on Wolf; she did not want to seem weak. Absence of fear was foolhardy, and she was not ashamed to admit that what lay ahead terrified her, but she wanted Wolf to know that she was not a coward, she would fight to the death if need be to free her friends from Aerona’s evil grasp. Wynn tried not to listen to Wolf’s thoughts, but they bombarded her mind and her emotions demanded to be felt. She was feeling so many different things at once that for a while Wynn could not figure out whether she was angry or sad. Slowly the emotions became coherent and Wolf’s thoughts were understandable, and Wynn found their close proximity unbearable.
“You are hard to read,” Wolf began and Wynn knew she spoke the truth, she had been feeling this from Wolf for the past few minutes, “I posses magic, and feel its burden as my tribe depends on me to protect them and yet it is meagre compared to what I sense in you, what any Mage or Magus with a flicker of magic can sense. I cannot understand you. One thing is clear however, I cannot doubt your intentions but you have a dark side, it is something that if I were wise I would fear and yet I do not. Why? I cannot say, your powers are at best unpredictable, you cannot fight but I would put all faith in you... may I see this dagger?”
Wynn smiled crookedly and unwrapped the Dagger of Night from her spare shirt and held it up to Wolf. Wolf held out her hand to touch it, then shrank back and merely inspected it. Wynn could see a range of emotions pass over her face and she watched t
he tattoos move as her face contorted. At first Wolf was confused and Wynn felt the confusion keenly, this was no earthly weapon, it was entirely made by the hand of man, and so Wolf did not understand it. Her weapons, daggers and bows and arrows were made in the forest with materials of nature. The blade from the iron they found, the wooden hilt from the trees and the bows and arrows from branches.
Then came awe, no one could deny that the Dagger of Night had a raw beauty, the darkest shade of black, forever swirling. Wynn was glad that Wolf admired it just as much as she had, for a while it seemed that only she could see its beauty, and respect its awesome power. Wolf was no fool; she was awed by the dagger, but not humbled by it, she knew that for all its magic, it still was just a weapon, one that could be cast aside as easily as breathing, and forgotten about. Wynn was not surprised then when Wolf asked: “You feel you need this weapon?”
Wynn thought about the question, knowing here at this moment she was not just answering Wolf, but her own doubts. Why did she need this unearthly weapon of shadows? Would a simple weapon of iron not do the same job? Taking a deep breath she answered, “I do not know exactly why I carry it. I wish I could answer you. A knowing deep inside me says that it is key to my journey. In some respects I feel powerless without it.” Wynn was surprised that she sounded sad, she had not realised how attached she was to the weapon.
Wolf did not miss Wynn’s evident sadness either and scoffed forcefully. Wynn did not have time to wonder at the reaction, or study Wolf’s emotions before Wolf was shouting at her.
“You!” Wolf gestured, “You are to defend me! You cannot even see past your faults to see how much you have accomplished. How can you say you are powerless? The day you are powerless marks the end of our life as we know it. This dagger,” her eyes snapped to it and back to Wynn, “It is nothing but a channel, have you not realised! Does it work as a dagger? Yes, but you do not want a simple dagger. You want something that will rip the dark creatures from their home and serve under you. You want something to magnify your magic, not the be all and end all of your powers! The moment you rely on this dagger, is the moment you will perish.”
A deep and uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Wolf’s clear voice and harshly spoken words rung around Wynn’s mind as though it was empty, bouncing from the walls until she felt as though her head would crack. Wynn did not bother to try and ignore Wolf’s emotions, as she would have done normally for anyone she met, and what filled her was a mixture of shock and anger. Shock from Wynn at what Wolf had said, so many depended on her and she was putting all of her trust on a dangerous weapon with an infamous history. Anger from Wolf that the girl heralded as the Foreseen was weak, ill experienced and frightened. Wynn shifted in her cross legged position and watched the floor; the dirt that the tent was placed on seemed far more interesting than anything in the world. She knew Wolf was right, she was weak and terrified, but that did not make her a bad person. Would Wolf be so brave, so confident if it was her destiny to defeat Aerona? Would she be so headstrong if she had had to suffer for so long, through so many different variations of pain? Wynn thought the questions forcefully, and felt a subtle softening in Wolf’s emotions.
“I am sorry,” Wolf said quietly, “I do not understand the burden you must carry and cannot and must not sit here and judge.”
Wolf stood abruptly, her face a blank mask, “Do you feel you can continue training?”
Wynn could not hide a small smile; Wolf was like Arabella in so many ways. What was it that drew Wynn to people that found it hard to show any kind of emotion? A flaw in her character perhaps, she did not dwell on it, and instead nodded solemnly, standing up and following Wolf outside into the crisp air of morning.
Wynn stared at her attacker through the sweat that dripped down her forehead. He stared back, daggers raised in warning, waiting. Wynn knew she was at an advantage with the stream of emotions, urges and thoughts that ran from the man into her, but she was determined not to use her magic, even the ability that she could not control, so she focused entirely on the feeling of the daggers in her hands. The man shifted infinitesimally and Wynn smiled gloatingly at him. At Wynn’s expression he scowled furiously and lunged at her, the staring match over.
Wynn stepped to the side and he ran past her, missing her by inches. The leaves and the undergrowth crackled in protest under his feet. He spun round and lunged again, dagger pointed straight at her. Wynn felt her heart begin to flutter in panic, but pushed that panic down and became serene. As she did the man’s lunge seemed to slow and it seemed to Wynn as though she had all the time in the world to plan what to do about it. She decided quickly and waited for him to reach her. The dagger glinted in the light and she knew the attack was meant to strike her in the neck, a wound that would kill.
Undeterred she waited until he was close enough then struck his hand with her left palm, jolting it, then grabbed it, twisting his arm around so that his weapon was now in her hand. He howled in shock and pain, his emotions suddenly only focusing on the agony. Wynn forced herself not to feel pity for the man; she kicked him in back of the knee and wrapped her arms around his neck. He sank to the ground in defeat. Wynn had finally disarmed and stolen an opponent’s weapon.
Wolf stepped out from the trees clapping. Wynn felt her heart fill with the unspoken praise and the unspoken pride in Wolf’s emotions. Wolf clapped her on the back and walked off leaving Wynn and the young man she had fought. Wynn knelt down to help the man but he refused to give her his hand.
“You are feeling a dent in your pride?” Wynn asked him and he shot her a glance of distain. She smiled weakly and took his hand, pulling him up with a grunt.
“You are much better at fighting now,” he replied eventually.
“I owe it to Wolf.”
“You have that same look that Wolf has when she fights, a look of complete peace which completely contradicts the flush of excitement when fighting an enemy or the rush of blood lust. I do not understand it.”
Wynn nodded. It had been a week since she had been thrown into the world of the Dagger of Night. Wolf had sat her down after that and treated her with a newfound respect, a respect even greater than when she had heard her sing. This new respect was partly from fear of the destructible power of the dagger, but Wynn did not question or resent anything that made the strange and exotic leader of the tribe admire her. They had sat deep in the woods, away from the camp, away from the noise and daily bustle. Arabella was fighting once more and did not even notice they were missing.
“What do you know of fighting?” Wolf had asked. Wynn thought for a moment. Fighting was destructive, painful, a way to cause great bodily harm to an enemy. Her mind drifted to the acts of evil she had seen from Woodstone’s army. It seemed as though she had not seen it herself but had heard it from a stranger. Her life was infinitely different from the small, frail maid that had watched those acts with horror. What was she now? Afraid certainly, but not of murder. She had killed many. At the time it had been of pure fury or fear that she had struck out and ended the life of another. She had a dark side she was certain, and it was this dark side that took over when she killed.
She felt Wolf watch her thoughts and answered her only through habit, Wolf did not really need the spoken words, but Wynn had never liked only communicating through emotions and thoughts, “It is a necessity of life.”
At this, and the thoughts and memories she had seen, Wolf had smiled, “You are right, an inescapable fact of this life, there will always be war, always be conflict between the sides. It is our nature.”
Wynn smiled sadly, “I thank the heavens that we are not in a war now.”
Wolf looked at her pointedly, “You believe that?”
“Of course, we are not at war.”
“Surely you of all people can feel the pull the land. It is distorting under Her powers. War is imminent. I believe, with a warrior’s instinct that it has already begun. You have seen nothing of the other lands in this world, your life was only Inlo and
there everything is censored, everything is a lie. War is coming whether you train hard or train fast, all we can do is hope to quell it.”
“Then you must teach me now,” Wynn said sternly.
Wolf smiled, “When you fight, you are fighting to defend yourself or those you love. When you fight for those you love you will find an inner peace. It cannot be taught, only discovered, I can point you in the right direction. I would not be teaching you this if I could not vouch for your goodness, despite the darkness that I sense inside you I know without doubt you fight for love and peace and happiness. Very few of my people can say that is all they fight for, you have seen the men, their tallies of fights won, it is an ancient tradition and through it my men fight for victory, and though all have the skills to fight for their homes they have forgotten what fighting truly means. To protect the ones you love.”
Wynn nodded and felt with surprise the small pressure on her temples that indicated Wolf had sent her conscious into her mind. Wynn waited for Wolf’s voice to ring through her thoughts.
“Did you feel me?” Wolf asked when it was clear Wynn was not surprised of Wolf’s presence in her mind. Wolf tried hide the shock in her voice but it was impossible to lie and hide your emotions when conversing mentally and Wynn felt it keenly.
Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) Page 34