“Dance to its lullaby,
Sing to its song.
Forget what brought you here,
Know you are strong.
Twilight is upon us,
And the stars shine.
So stay for a while
Here you are mine.
The moon shines down
An angel in disguise,
In its silver rays you may drown,
Death in paradise.”
She flung her head of out the bath, gasping for air. She felt invigorated; the combination of the song and the water felt as though it was washing her troubles away. And yet something irritated her, nagged at her like an itch she could not scratch. She saw in her mind her magic, how she had seen it crossing the plains between Herth and Berhandril, the golden essence mixing with something black and inky and alien. What did it mean? And why did she sometimes, erratically and inexplicably, feel herself growing angry and depressed? In those moments it was as though she was not herself, like a red mist had descended over her eyes and mind and rage was all she could think about. Wynn thought about what Wolf had said “‘you fear the dark inside you but there cannot be darkness without light, you cannot distinguish between them without the other to show you. Do you fear the night because it is dark? No you fear the night because it blinds your eyes and dulls your senses, but how can we be sure that the darkness is truly evil without a light to shine through it?’” But this darkness did not feel born inside her, it felt wrong and frightening.
Wynn lay in the bath for hours, contemplating what the blackness that was combining with her magic could be, but could find no answer. Eventually she gave up, realising she was dwelling on something that had had no effect on her other than a brief lapse in mood. Pushing it from her mind she relaxed slightly. Eventually, when the bath had grown cold, Wynn got out and dried herself with the cloth. She dressed and walked down the corridor and into her room. There sat the book, untouched on the floor. She had forgotten about it. She picked it up and set it on her bed. Now she needed to learn how to read to know what it said. She placed her hand on the book but nothing happened. Laughing, wondering what she had expected, she closed the book and set it back on the floor, then crawled back into bed.
Wynn woke to the sound of birds singing outside. It was a pleasant way to wake and she found herself smiling despite the thoughts that had plagued her the night before. She got out of bed, still dressed and walked out into the corridor. It was deserted but to be sure she searched for a few moments through the corridors and still found no one. She wondered at the silence, where were all the students? Eventually she was drawn to the Great Hall for all the thoughts and emotions seemed centred there. She knocked on the door once she had reached it and it swung open.
Inside stood Irik and Nethali, and behind them all the students of Berhandril, numbering over three hundred. They stopped what they had been doing and lowered their heads humbly, some twitching as though to bow as she entered. She waited to feel sick at the number of turbulent emotions in the room, but instead they washed over her calmly, none screaming for attention, she found she could focus quite easily on the situation at hand. She scoped the room and spotted Arabella leaning against the wall, apart from the crowd, watching their reactions to her friend with amusement.
“What is going on?” Wynn questioned seriously, folding her arms. Arabella smiled softly at her, communicating that she was not going to be attacked... yet. Wynn wished to talk privately with her and almost sent out her magic to communicate mentally, but Irik had stepped forward, his arms open to show he meant no harm.
“I would like to apologise Wynn,” he said solemnly, “for my student’s behaviour, for Nethali’s and for mine. I did not know of their intentions and would have prevented what happened if I had. It seems you have not had the best introduction to our way of life.”
Wynn smiled sarcastically, not bothering to hide her newfound distain for the Magus and Mages here at the Seminary, as well as the students and their whole way of life, she and turned her gaze to Nethali, “Are you disappointed in me?”
Nethali smiled wryly, “You are strong but you were not tested enough. It was arrogant of me to assume I could defeat you. I can only apologise for my behaviour, and for the students who attacked you and kidnapped you. It was wrong, but you must understand that I had to be sure. You are claiming to be the Foreseen, who will lead us against Aerona and I wanted to see with my own eyes how strong you are.”
“That was nothing of my true power,” Wynn said darkly and was pleased when Nethali’s eyes widened and she nodded respectfully. Wynn felt suddenly and inexplicably angry, she was sure the students and professors felt it, but did not care, how dare they doubt her? She eyed the students, a thrill of pleasure running through her when they could not hold her gaze, or when their emotions became suddenly terrified. They are right to fear me, Wynn thought.
“Would you consent to a test that you knew of and understood?” Irik said slowly, afraid of upsetting her further but excited that they might have a definitive way to prove if she really was the Foreseen.
Wynn smiled dryly, “I accept your challenge on the basis that Arabella fights alongside me,” she glanced over to Arabella, who nodded her head, “and that you explain anything I wish answered.”
Irik smiled and agreed, “Tonight, magic and combat, you and Arabella against our most experienced students. Then we can begin your lessons.”
Wynn nodded and left without excusing herself. Arabella smiled at her friend’s newfound confidence.
Wynn left the hall silently, avoiding the gaze of the servants. She feared Taien would appear and question her about last night and she had no answer to give him. He would not understand about magic just as she would have not understood if things had been explained to her back at Oprend Manor, it would frighten him and she was in no mood to deal with such a thing.
The sudden anger had subsided and she forgot about it, it was just a reaction to the situation she told herself. She reached her room and searched through the drawers. She had had no need to rummage through them before but now as she looked through them she found a small mirror. It was not completely smooth but she could see her reflection well enough. She looked at her skin, darkened slightly from her prolonged stay in the heat of the sun, and her hair reaching down to her waist. It was still black as night and tightly curled, and shined in the morning sun. Sighing she thought of all the questions she would ask of Irik. She needed answers desperately.
How could she harness her powers? Could Aerona’s army be stopped? Could Aerona herself be stopped? She bit her lip angrily as she set the mirror down, walked over to her pack and threw out its contents until she found the Dagger of Night wrapped in her spare clothes, completely unchanged since she had entered its world and despite her travels. She had used it only once whilst venturing through the vast woods that had stood in between Herth and Berhandril against Aerona’s creature and it had not worked as she intended it to. She knew she should fear the dagger, even Medea and Wolf had seemed wary of the weapon but instinctively she knew that it’s strength would be vital in stopping Aerona. She considered showing it to Irik, but decided against it. Trust works both ways, she decided, he shall need to prove himself before I entrust him with this knowledge.
She packed it away again, then stood up and made her way to the kitchen, her stomach growling with hunger. There Salina was stirring a pot which hung over the fire. The kitchen smelt of thyme and rosemary and reminded Wynn of her times spent in the kitchen at Oprend Manor with Cook. She found herself smiling when Salina spotted her; she bowed hurriedly, as she would have if Cook had caught her daydreaming.
“Why do you bow to me?” Salina asked as she dropped the roughly carved wooden spoon into the pot, she cursed and fished it out, then turned to Wynn for an answer.
Wynn did not know how to explain herself; it had always been the way. Cook was the head of the kitchen and although Wynn worked in all rooms of the house she still felt that Cook was her
mistress and as such deserved her respect. Since Salina was the cook here at the Seminary she deserved that same respect, “You are the head of the kitchen, I ...” Wynn trailed off.
“But you are a guest here at the Seminary of Berhandril, you should not lower yourself,” Salina said insistently.
“You make the meals I eat, that everyone eats, you deserve respect,” Wynn mumbled, the words not quite as persuading as they had sounded in her head.
Salina laughed a hoarse laugh. Wynn shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, slightly uncomfortable that Salina was laughing at her and her reasoning, but also enjoying having made her laugh in the first place.
“Oh I like you Wynn,” she chortled, “but you must understand that I am beneath you, if anything I should bow to you.”
Wynn driven by a sudden impulse – and the need to replace the void that leaving Cook had left – walked over to her and hugged her. Salina’s eyes widened in shock but she hugged her back. After a while she pushed her away but held Wynn by her shoulders, “You are different than the other guests here.”
Wynn nodded her head solemnly, she had always been different. Salina grinned and walked over to the pot she had been stirring. Taking a rag she grabbed a bowl from the side and poured some of the contents of the pot into it; a thick stew, with large chunks of meat, potato and vegetables floating in it.
“Take it please,” Salina instructed, “I know you have not eaten properly for a few days and you are far too thin for my liking.” She held out the bowl until Wynn took it, watching her approvingly as Wynn shovelled it down. When she had finished she handed the bowl back to Salina, bowed and then left.
Wynn smiled as she walked, liking the feeling of being full. It was something she rarely experienced and now she had the opportunity she decided she would eat far more often. As she brushed her hands through her hair and watched her feet pad quietly over the grey stone, she walked straight into Taien; and fell ungracefully over. Taien held his hand out and she grasped it gratefully. Once on her feet she stepped back and brushed herself down, suddenly very conscious at how clumsy she seemed. He smiled and nodded a goodbye.
Wynn sighed; glad Taien had not questioned her about Nethali. She walked back to her room touching first the scab on her nose, then her necklace which now offered no protection, but still was the only thing she had of her mother. When she reached her room her mind clouded with the fight she had promised Irik. She felt calm. Again, as she had done before battling Nethali she cast her mind out and imagined a sunset. The beauty and complete vastness of the event allowed her to realise just who she was. She was nothing and everything, another girl, a Magus.
“I am the light and the dark,” she whispered to herself and the words echoed around the room.
Nightfall came far quicker than Wynn expected. She watched the sun set through her window, the vivid colours splashing her white room like a canvas. She imprinted the image onto her mind; humbled at the sight. She sat there until night had won its battle with the setting sun, before walking over to her pack and drawing out the outfit Wolf had given her. She put it on slowly, feeling a new sense of self as she did. She took the little mirror she had found in the drawers and looked at her reflection. She had never been vain; looking in the mirror was a routine she had picked up at Oprend Manor. Through her travels she had not wanted to see her reflection but now as she held the mirror in front of her she longed to be different. She ran her hand through her long black hair. It was who she was, all she had ever been. Impulsively she went to her pack and drew out a spare dagger and with one swift movement she cut her hair off above her shoulder.
Her head felt instantly lighter, and she stood open mouthed at her hair which had fallen to the floor. She looked in the mirror, with the Manti outfit Wolf had given her and her new hair she was a new person. She was not Wynn anymore, she was the Foreseen. She stared expressionlessly at her reflection, unsure whether she liked the new person she was becoming. Her thoughts had become cutting, her mood dark. With gritted teeth she ran her fingers through her hair which, even short was unruly and curly, and locked the room tightly with magic as she left.
Irik stood in the Great Hall, tapping his foot impatiently, beside him Nethali and seven students stood, each biting their lips in fear. Arabella stood some distance away inspecting her fingernails, her senses acute for Wynn’s arrival. Wynn opened the door without knocking and strode into the Great Hall. Irik was the first to spot her, his mouth opened in shock and despite himself he could not close it. Wynn was glad then she could not feel Irik’s emotions, she was sure they would be far from innocent. Beside Irik Nethali elbowed Irik viciously and he managed to close his mouth. The male students however could not hide their emotions and it was a few moments before Wynn was able to brush off their lustful whims.
Arabella chuckled as she reached Wynn and winked at her playfully. Wynn could not help but blush, she was not used to this kind of attention, the respectful kind, where people kept their thoughts and fancies to themselves, or as to themselves as they could, being Magus and Mages. Wynn lifted her hand as she saw Irik open his mouth. He closed it and frowned.
“Before we begin I would request John to step forward,” Wynn said coolly.
The hall broke out in whispers but no one stepped forward. Wynn heard Arabella grind her teeth next to her and knew she agreed with what Wynn planned to do. Time stretched but no one stepped forward, it did not matter, John’s emotions cried out in terror. Wynn looked in his direction and the people next to him turned to look at him so that eventually all were looking at him.
“Why do you wish to talk to him?” Irik frowned.
“Shall we ask him?” Wynn said, and motioned for him to walk forward. He half walked and was half pushed through the students until he was next to Irik and Nethali. He focused on the floor, terror running through him. He did not know what was coming and Wynn’s attack on him was fresh in his mind.
“Irik I would like you to meet John, he has tried to violate Arabella and wished to do so with myself, and has succeed with a few of the students.”
Irik’s face went from confused to furious. Wynn was glad in this instance that his temperament changed quickly for she wanted all of his rage to become focused on the vile creature before her. John was visibly trembling but his face was stern, as though cut from stone. His pride would not allow him to look terrified. Irik grabbed John’s collar and lifted it so the boy was on his tiptoes. John did not need to confess, every encounter flashed in his head, brought on by the stress of the situation and Irik saw it all. Irik’s hands shook and with terrific force he lifted John from the ground and threw him down so that he hit the ground with a smack.
Irik turned to Wynn, his expression unreadable, shame, anger, sadness, all mingled on his face and Wynn smiled softly at him.
“I do not know what to say Wynn and Arabella, I am so ashamed that this filth has not been caught, that he has lived under my tutelage for so long,” Irik’s voice was raspy with emotion.
“You have over three hundred students Irik,” Arabella said, “you will not be able to monitor all of them. The blame is not yours; do not take any of this bastard’s shame upon your shoulders.”
Arabella stepped forward, her daggers twirling in her hands. John stared up at her, sheer terror in his eyes. Arabella smiled impishly at him, her eyes flashing with glee. Wynn knew this side of Arabella, the one that was cold and cruel, the side that Gypsies were infamous for. Wynn did not know what was coming, Arabella was thinking only of her daggers and she was glad. If Arabella thought about it then John would know through her thoughts and she wanted him to fear every second.
The whole room watched Arabella saunter over to John and with a wave of her hand bind him to the floor so that he could not move. She knelt then and quicker than blinking stabbed one dagger through the hand that was pressed to the floor, palm down. He shrieked through the magic that held him and a tear fell from his eye. Arabella smirked and with the other dagger tilted it so that the blad
e was facing him; delicately she began to cut into his forehead. Wynn was unsure what was happening until Arabella stepped back and saw the word, ‘rapist’ carved into his head.
Irik nodded solemnly and waited until Arabella had released her magical hold before grabbing John and pulling him upright. He drew his sword and placed it to John’s neck. “I will not kill you, because I do not get to choose such a thing, I do not place myself as judge and executioner, but I do say this. You are banished from this castle; you will leave now and never come back. If I see you again Nethali has no such qualms about killing you.”
John nodded, blood pouring down his face and from his stabbed hand, and scrambled away. Fear was potent in the air. The students watched him, their faces a mixture of revulsion and shock.
Wynn turned to Irik, “Thank you for that, I had to see him gone from the Seminary. I am ready now to meet the terms of our agreement.”
Irik nodded, “I am glad you brought it to my attention, the people that have been affected may come to me at any point... but yes tonight is a night of destiny and we shall move forward. I thought we would begin by Arabella and yourself fighting with two of my best students.” He motioned behind Nethali and two boys stepped forward. Wynn recognised them as two of the boys that had ambushed her. She scowled, instantly furious and the boys could not hide a shiver of fear.
Irik gave them all a blunted dagger and everyone moved out of the way. Wynn could not help feel glad they had been stopped by Wolf, she was not a complete novice anymore, she could hold her own against an attacker and find a sense of peace that made her actions far quicker than her opponent. She could win this, she needed to, otherwise her journey here would be futile, Irik had already made it clear that only a victory equalled lessons.
Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) Page 40