Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing)

by Shannon M Yarnold

  “What are we doing here?” Wynn said stiffly. She would not forget Irik’s attack easily, he was strange and it seemed, even from only one meeting, that he was prone to great changes in temperament. Strong too, unbelievably strong, both magically and in combat; Wynn knew enough to gauge it in him, and Nethali too.

  “Just come,” Arabella urged, ignoring Wynn’s worry and dragging her through the door and into the room. It was not much different than last night, instead that sunlight now flooded through the broken roof highlighting how vast it really was, with no shadows to hide in. Irik and Nethali stood formally in the centre of the room, three dozen or so people behind them. Wynn walked hesitantly forward and stopped a few paces before them.

  She inspected them, determined not to cow under their gaze. Irik was tall and muscled, his shaven head severe. Wynn had only ever seen The General in Woodstone sporting such a style. The tattoos that lined his arms were thick and black, lines and swirls that told no story, no words or pictures but were striking against his skin. He was intimidating and Wynn could not help but be terrified of him.

  Nethali was softer, standing beside her lover, but equally as daunting. Her red hair was soft and wavy, golden streaks running through it. Her face was hard now, but Wynn knew it was beautiful. Her brown eyes watched knowingly and her full lips were pressed tightly together. Her black dress was tight to her body, completely different to any style Wynn had ever seen. Its long sleeves hugged her arms and a belt clung to her waist. A woman in Woodstone would never wear such a revealing outfit, which showed their shape and curves. It would only ask for trouble and all the women knew what it meant to gain the attention of the soldiers. Nethali was clearly undeterred and flaunted her shape. There must be no such fear here, Wynn mused.

  “I would like to apologise for last night,” Irik began, bowing to Wynn, Wynn, startled, did not bow back, but Irik carried on undeterred, “it was completely unnecessary for me punish you just for mentioning Widow Medea. You must understand that she was one of our professors and we all thought she was dead, she tutored us for over a decade and then mysteriously vanished over thirty summers ago, we feared for her life until recently we received consistent news that she had been captured by Aerona. When you mentioned her I wrongly assumed thought you were Aerona’s spies who had somehow broken the ancient magic protecting our castle, come to capture us. I can only apologise again and hope you understand that in these times vigilance is of the utmost importance and that appearances can be deceptive.”

  Wynn nodded awkwardly, unsure how to respond. It was a reasonable argument; would she have acted any differently given the circumstances? Yet it felt different on the receiving end of an attack and that made her reluctant to forgive.

  “Arabella has explained your talents,” Irik continued, “we will teach you how to use your magic and how to defend yourself. If you really are the Foreseen then it would be an honour to train you.”

  Wynn stared at the ground, this is what she wanted, what she had travelled all this way for, but after last night she was unsure what to say. She took the opportunity to again try and feel the emotions of Irik, Nethali, and the three dozen people behind them who she assumed were some of the other professors, but found them still securely hidden, just as the flame of the gifted was hidden from her. She felt trapped, on the one hand here were rebels of the law, practising and teaching magic despite the penalty, and may be the only ones in the land able to teach her; but she knew nothing about them apart from they had wild temperaments and were at best unpredictable. What could she do? She had to accept.

  Nethali and Irik did not comment as they felt Wynn’s changing emotions, and Wynn ignored them completely, she thought freely as she had always done, at the moment she did not feel in danger and she was not about to rush such a decision. She would be wary, Arabella had taught her that much, trusting too quickly was never wise – Rueben’s betrayal throbbed in her mind – and she would not be hurt again. Wynn could fight a little; Arabella and Wolf’s training revolved in her mind, and if anything happened she could defend herself... Wynn smirked sardonically; she could defend herself while she waited for Arabella to help her. She needed to be confident and skilled enough to protect herself. Relying on Arabella was inconvenient and embarrassing.

  She would accept the offer from these people and be vigilant while they proved themselves to her. Slowly her thoughts found a destination.

  “I thank you for your offer and accept it gratefully,” she eventually replied, smiling weakly at her new tutors. Irik clapped his hands together and smiled, before indicating at the people behind him and walking out the door, the three dozen professors following. Nethali, who had remained where she was, walked over to Wynn and Arabella, in the daylight she looked just as radiant, her red hair dancing down her back, her golden bangles clashing together to create a soft tinkling sound.

  “If you follow me I’ll take you to the bathhouse,” she said sweetly, her voice just as beautiful as she. Wynn was taken in by it, but saw her eyes were still hard and her mouth tight. It was a show, this sweet voice and vulnerability. Wynn nodded stiffly – realising then just how dirty she was after months of hard trekking across Inlo, Herth and Berhandril – and followed her silently. Arabella walked with them, then branched off explaining she wished to explore. Wynn looked after her, jealous that she had such a good sense of direction and had already figured her way around the castle. Nethali and Wynn walked in silence until they reached the bathhouse, where Nethali motioned for her to enter, then left with a small smile upon her lips.

  Wynn ignored the woman; she did not like her, and entered the bathhouse. It was fresh and clean, containing one large bath in the centre of the room and a window opposite. Along the walls cupboards full of buckets, cloths for drying, soap and spare clothes sat. Wynn inspected them briefly, pulling out the clothes before settling with a good sturdy pair of trousers and a soft cotton shirt. She stripped and set her old clothes on the floor. Wynn stared at the bath for a moment, unsure how to fill it, back at Oprend Manor she filled a bucket of water at the pump, then heated it over the fire before filling the bath with it. She considered drawing the water from the air but realised that would result in horrible, dry air which would be hard to breathe. She looked around the room once more and saw an irregularity in the wall.

  She walked over to it and pressed it, the strip of stone pushed back and to the side revealing a pump in the wall. She smiled and took a bucket from the cupboard and pumped it full of water, repeating it five times before the bath was full. From there she could heat the water adequately with magic. She sunk into the bath gratefully, the water lapping up around her neck and chin. With a bar of soap she washed her hair and body, revelling in the feeling of being clean, comfortable and warm. When she was finished she got out of the bath, drying herself roughly with a cloth from the cupboard, got dressed again in the new clothes, leaving her old clothes on the side for a servant to collect. She felt guilty for doing it, for once that was her job, but she did not want to walk around the castle with old clothes in her hands. She wished she had a quill, and paper, and knew how to write for she would have left a note apologising.

  Wynn left the bathhouse, trying to forget her clothes in the bathhouse and began to explore the castle. She found she was on the ground floor, as was her bedroom and the private bathhouse. The castle followed a square layout, a few doors entering into a second courtyard in the centre of the structure. All the rooms followed the square layout – save the Great Hall that sat at the north of the structure – the furthest point away from the entrance of the castle and was as large as seven rooms put together and just as tall. There were three sets of stairs, each leading to rooms full of armour, desks, bedrooms and bathhouses. She discovered through her wanderings that the servants’ quarters was the small building just by the outer wall she had seen the night before. The kitchen too was on the bottom floor and she realised that the door she had seen led outside to the courtyard where there was a vegetable plot, pig
pens and a chicken coop.

  As she walked she encountered many students, it was unavoidable as they were all coming out of their lessons and walking to the next ones, all dressed in similar clothes to her. They gave her a wide berth and she was glad, for she had never been comfortable with her peers, as most had never suffered as she had and so did not know how to act around her, they could not empathise and many did not even bother to try. When she peered out of the windows into the courtyard she saw at least fifty students duelling with a range of weapons. The rest of the students were now dotted around the rooms, being instructed by one of the three dozen people she had seen that first night and this morning. None welcomed her and she kept her head down.

  Wynn had lost all sense of direction and time when she bumped into the man that had shown her into the castle the night before and given her breakfast this morning. He smiled welcomingly at her, holding several trays of dirty dishes and he raised them in greeting.

  “Hello little raven” he grinned. Wynn smiled back at him uncertainly, him... she could not keep calling him that, what was his name?

  “Raven?” Wynn questioned.

  “We don’t get many round here with hair as black as yours,” he smiled, Wynn listened to his accent, it was a mixture she was sure of two different lands. He had brown hair, with tanned skin and deep brown eyes flecked with green. He was clearly older than she but not by much. “I thought it was appropriate,” he finished speaking with a wink. Wynn found herself blushing and turned to look down the corridor in an attempt to hide it.

  The man chuckled, “A clear disadvantage of having skin as pale as yours.”

  Wynn smiled warily not sure if she liked this form of light banter, “What’s your name?”She asked, hoping to turn the conversation to the man.

  “Taien,” he said, smiling, and jerked his head for her to follow. She fell in step with him quickly and they headed towards the kitchen. He knocked on the door, balancing the trays on his knees with a skill that impressed even Wynn, and waited until Salina opened it. She pulled him in, took the trays and kissed him teasingly on the cheek as though he was a small boy. He pushed her away laughing and stood waiting for a full tray of food. Wynn stood awkwardly at the doorway, unsure whether to enter and wondering who he was serving.

  “I see you brought the little twig,” Salina said brightly, gesturing for her to enter. Wynn entered hesitantly, finding Salina and Taien’s friendship awkward. She felt out of place, as if she was intruding. She supposed it was like her and Cook’s relationship back at Oprend Manor, or what it had been. The kitchen smelt of thyme and garlic and Wynn sniffed at it.

  “Aye,” Taien said thoughtfully, answering Salina, “she keeps following me,” he turned to wink at Wynn just as she opened her mouth to object, not understanding it was said in jest. Salina laughed a deep throaty laugh and handed Taien a meal on a tray. He nodded his head as a goodbye and motioned for Wynn to follow him out of the kitchen; quickly Wynn curtseyed to Salina and followed Taien.

  “Are you a servant?” Wynn said after a while of comfortable silence.

  “Aye,” Taien said slowly, as though hesitant to admit it.

  Wynn nodded, “I’m a maid... I was a maid,” she corrected herself, her stomach flipping at the use of past tense. She was a maid, but no more, now she was Free.

  Taien stopped and looked at her, “I did not picture that.”

  “What did you picture?” Wynn questioned, falling back in step with him.

  “Well, I thought you were noble, maybe the daughter of a lord?”

  Wynn laughed out loud at the prospect and turned her head to Taien. He chuckled embarrassingly, “I guess not then.”

  “I was a maid in Inlo,” Wynn explained. Taien raised his eyebrows but did not continue the subject for which Wynn was glad. She did not want to spoil the moment with such a depressing subject. She found it surprisingly easy to be with Taien and wondered if it was because he was a servant. He looked too pleasant to be a servant, too carefree.

  “Who are you serving?” She asked, glancing at the meal. A thick stew steamed gently in a bowl, freshly baked bread beside it. He glanced at her and Wynn wondered at his expression, suddenly wary. It was gone then, quickly, replaced by a smile.

  “Irik, he is in between lessons and has not had time for lunch; I am headed to his study, he usually eats there.”

  Wynn slowed down unconsciously; she did not wish to accompany Taien to Irik’s office. She would have time enough to meet her new teacher and would deal with it when it came. Taien glanced back at her, for she had stopped and turned around.

  “You are not coming?”

  Wynn shook her head, unable to speak and watched as Taien smiled and turned back around, walking away. Wynn almost asked to come with him, almost, but could not bring herself to be near Irik. It was difficult to have nothing to do, too much time to fill; although she was sure once her lessons with Irik began she would wish she had free time, and time away from him.

  As she wandered she thought of Taien, he was like no one she had ever met; he was carefree, and happy. It was so refreshing, he did not mock her, or belittle her and had made no move to violate her. No man here had, and there had been plenty of opportunities. It was strange to be able to walk around men and not have to fear them.

  At that moment a group of girls rounded the corner, they were huddled together, giggling but stopped dead when they saw Wynn. She tried to smile at them but it was more of a grimace. The girls eyes widened, and a combination of interest and scorn mingled with Wynn’s emotions. She had been scorned many a time and was not surprised. She stared squarely at the girls, refusing to be intimidated by them. They outnumbered her, six to one, but Wynn stood tall and walked forward. They stared at her, moving out of her way and as she walked away she heard their whispered conversation.

  “That cannot be the Foreseen; I could beat her with my hands tied behind my back.”

  “It must be the other girl, she looks dangerous, John tried it with her this morning and do you know what she did? Never seen anything like it, he grabbed her wrist and she looked at him like she could kill him with her eyes. Faster than anything she grabbed his arm and forced it behind his back, a knife in her other hand held to his neck.”

  The other girls gasped and Wynn could not help smiling as the girl remembered the encounter. How could someone be so stupid to try it with Arabella? She was glad Arabella had frightened him and his gang of friends. The only problem was her own safety. The girls assessment of her rang in her ears, she looked weak and vulnerable and in no way the Foreseen. It was not surprising; she had in no way acted like it, she could not save Theodore or Rueben, or stop Byron from being captured. Her stomach was thick with guilt. She shook her head and found her way back to her room and threw herself onto her bed.

  Wynn could not begrudge Nethali her doubt that she was the Foreseen when she had been so weak in the past, but it still stung her pride and confidence. She looked around the room and found her pack; inside was the small rebec Medea had given her. She took it out and ran the bow over the string randomly. She had never played a rebec before, but whatever note she sounded, no matter how wrong she knew it was the sound was always pure and sweet. Wynn began to sing a song Cook had sung to her as a child:

  “Sleep my darling,

  And dream of me

  When the moon shines

  Your smile I see

  And when you are alone

  Know you are free

  Have no cares

  Know no pain

  Be safe my love

  And dream of me

  Happiness is all I wish

  For the one that dreams of me”

  Wynn looked down at her hands, watching them shake, and wept, wept for all those who had died, all those she could not have saved. She fell asleep where she lay, exhausted, tears still streaming down her face.

  ***

  Byron tentatively touched his ribs. He could tell they were almost healed for gone was the searin
g, eye watering pain and now all that remained was a dull but insistent ache. The General had allowed him more food and water now his stomach had settled and his health depended on it. His ribs were checked daily by what seemed to be the ship’s physician, Byron had his suspicions about the man’s right to be called a physician, for every time he inspected Byron’s ribs he had poked just a little too hard and swayed a little too much for a sober, educated man. His breath more often than not smelt of strong spirits or cheaply produced metheglin.

  Bryon knew now, and had known for a while, that his death would not be aboard this ship, he was treated too well for a man marked for death. The General would not waste his food, or time, on keeping him alive when he could just as easily slit his throat and throw him overboard. His life for now was safe, and he had become so indifferent to his treatment that boredom wracked his mind. He had taken to inspecting his cell-like room until it became so familiar he knew every crack in the wood, every splinter, every leak. His left arm was still shackled to the wall, but he had free reign of his right arm. Not that he could do anything, the shackle was steel, and through close inspection he found it was tightly screwed to the wall, and no amount of tugging would free it. Instead he felt the floor beneath him, receiving more than one splinter, and the wood behind him, searching for a slit that would mean his freedom. He never found one and so spent his days half awake, sleeping to pass the time and regain his strength. He was fed twice a day, salted beef, dry biscuits and a mug of ale.