It was not her, she had never shouted and snapped and hissed at people; she had never attacked scores of magical creatures whilst being wholly consumed by rage. The memory of murdering the beasts, the feeling of the knife in her hand, slicing, stabbing, killing, was a hard one to bear because she was not entirely sure how it made her feel. She wanted to be outraged at herself and saddened at her actions, but she could not deny that feeling of pleasure that rippled through her at the fact she had been strong enough to do it.
Wynn swung her legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed the star pendant on her necklace absentmindedly, as she did when she was sad or stressed. The room was bright with golden morning light and everything was clean and fresh and yet it still looked unlived it, and could not but remind her of the previous night. After Taien had left her time had been filled with tears, she had wept for hours and even now she was unsure why. She did not know who to believe anymore. She had trusted Taien; he had known what a life of servitude was; now that was destroyed. And yet she couldn’t understand why it bothered her so much. She had no tie to him, he was not a friend, and she had known him only for a short space of time but his lies cut her deeper than she could cope with.
Sighing she got up and waited for her cloudy, thought filled head to clear. Clothes had been folded neatly beside the bed and she begrudgingly put them on, knowing they had been left by Taien. She wished to bathe first but did not fancy wandering around the castle in her nightclothes and so dressed wearily. When she was clothed Wynn felt her belt, completely expecting the Dagger of Night to be still be sheathed upon it, but her fingers danced over an empty space and found just a plain belt. She began to panic; she had dropped it when the creature attacked. Where was it? Who had it now? She ran out of the door, ignoring anyone she passed, and ignoring her thumping headache, running down stairs until she found a corridor she recognised, from there she made her way to her room. The door was still locked tightly. She let out a sigh of relief as she unlocked the door and entered. Her bed was still neatly made, and her pack still sitting on the floor. She walked over to it and emptied the contents until she found the bundle that should contain the dagger. Slowly, her heart in her mouth she unwound it and found the dagger whole and safe, except there were now splatters of blood from her fight the night before on the blade.
Wynn leant back on her heels and stared at the dagger, running her finger gently over the blade. The blood was dried onto it. She had summoned the blade to fight the creatures, it had been instinctive, she had followed an urge that she now in the light of the morning could not understand. Maybe I finally understood what Wolf had meant; Wynn thought carefully, thinking back to what Wolf had said, “This dagger, it is nothing but a channel, have you not realised! Does it work as 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. Only your magic can do that.”
It was logical. She had called the Dagger of Night to channel her magic and aid her but why? Arabella had fought and killed a Hybrid before without the Dagger of Night, so why had it been Wynn’s first thought? It was as though someone had pushed the thought into her mind. She shivered and pushed the Dagger back down to the bottom of her pack. She could not face holding it or looking at it when it evoked such strange emotions in her.
She stood up, left the room and locked her door again with magic before walking through the corridors, no destination in mind. Everyone avoided her and she was glad, she was in no mood to talk to anyone right now and she was sure they all had their own opinions about what had happened and not all of it was pleasant. She caught waves of fear, shock she was alive and sparse admiration of her efforts. Wynn did not care what they felt, everyone in her eyes was an enemy, if they were part of the Seminary they were no friend of hers. It was with these dark thoughts that Irik appeared around the corner and hailed her. He walked over to her, his face pale.
“Wynn...” he began.
Wynn held up her hand to still him, she had no time for apologies from someone who she no longer respected, “Irik,” she said, her voice a very careful monotone, “I did not complete your fight but I still have questions and I wish for you to answer them. My time here has been hard and I think you owe me this much at least.”
His face was shocked and he unfolded his tattooed arms as though to try and reassure her, but her carefully blank face and emotions told him that it was not worth the effort, he nodded slowly and beckoned for her to follow him; she obeyed, watching the floor as she walked, he led her down corridors but they held no interest to Wynn. She trailed behind him trying desperately not to let her worries cloud her vision and therefore be read and felt easily by Irik. It was easier said than done. She felt her stomach unconsciously, noting a hardness that was not muscle, as though there was something underneath the skin. The thought reminded Wynn of a parasite, something feasting on her flesh and stealing her life. She shivered and removed her hand, her stomach rolling with nausea.
What was this, this thing that had captured her? For she was painfully aware that she was becoming less and less aware of her actions, rarely able to go a day without a black and red rage encompassing her. It was an all consuming thing, like a blanket over her mind and a drug to her common sense. In those moments of fury nothing mattered but the strength in her limbs and her ability to harm. But what could she do? How could she fight something she could not see and how could she explain to anyone that it was as though she was possessed? None would believe her, certainly no one from the Seminary, she had had a less than friendly reception from the students and professors and doubted they would care one iota about her.
Irik stopped then and opened an unremarkable door, leading her into the room silently. They were in a room on the ground level, near the Great Hall, there were no windows and Wynn wondered whether this was the final resort if the castle was attacked, a place where the inhabitants could hide without fear of being harmed. The door was thick and protected heavily by magic; Irik himself had struggled opening and closing it. Wynn shivered involuntarily in the chill of the room. It was large, able to easily fit the whole of the Seminary in its four walls. Yet they sat in a small corner at a table, lit only with candlelight; four huge candles, their flames doing little to highlight the darkness. Wynn glanced around her fearfully.
What was to say that the change in her was not due to an enemy with the gift? Anyone could be influencing her with their magic and unless they entered her mind she would be oblivious to their touch. Surely someone would warn her? Arabella would not have let someone follow them and would know if someone wished Wynn harm. It could be Aerona’s spies; Wynn pondered, but why infect her when they could easily kill her? It seemed a convoluted way to eradicate her. It led her to believe that if anyone was intent to harm her it was someone inside the Seminary. Well, there were many suspects.
Wynn glanced then at Irik and he cringed, having followed Wynn’s thoughts. The candles sat on the table to the left of him flickered, highlighting his gaunt face. His shaved head and serious expression had transformed in Wynn’s eyes, she did not find him intimidating now. Did that infuriate him; did he want people to fear him? At every thought Irik seemed to crumple further, Wynn watched him with a sense of satisfaction. A feeling wholly alien to her, when the old Wynn would be horrified that Irik was clearly in pain. Wynn looked around her again at the thick black, surprised she had found it frightening. The dark held infinite possibilities.
Irik shuffled and Wynn blinked, feeling suddenly like she had just woken from a dream. She frowned at Irik and hugged herself, the candles offered little heat in the large room and the cold crept over her like a frost. Her shirt and laced trousers offering a thin protection.
Irik rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, “I greatly underestimated you Wynn.” His words sliced through the silence, and Wynn felt them echo around her. She could not help but gulp, the tension in the room was a mixture of sadness and fear and she was glad she could not feel his emotions or hear
his thoughts. He looked desolate enough and she did not wish to share it. She had her own thoughts to think and emotions to feel, a rage that bubbled and which took an effort to control, a fear that she still had so much to learn and a sadness which came from her years of pain and her most recent betrayal. She knew he felt everything because every time a vicious thought floated through her mind he would wince, and she was glad.
Irik lowered his eyes, “I should have known from the moment I met you, you were physically weak but inside you something burnt brighter than... than I have ever seen. I was foolish... foolish, I just hope it is not too late. I do not know what to say, words do not seem enough.”
Wynn eyes narrowed with worry and she felt suddenly like she might cry. What was he saying? Irik stood suddenly, knocking his chair over and walked over to Wynn. She swallowed the lump in her throat and too stood to face him, the top of her head reaching his nose. He raised his palm and she hesitantly did the same until both their palms were touching, not exactly sure what was happening. As soon as their skin touched she was thrown into Irik’s conscious, his life surrounded every inch of her vision, of her mind. She was him, his past and his present, she thought what he thought and felt what he felt. She loved Nethali as keenly as Irik did, she understood every decision, every action he had ever taken.
It was like nothing she had ever felt before, it was so much more than her gift, the constant feeling of another’s emotions and thoughts, this was complete immersion in another’s body. She felt raw and emotional and rude, like she was spying on his very soul. He had invited her in; past the shield he had created for himself, and into his body to feel everything about him, to show her his true self. He was honest and kind, and only lied when it was necessary, his love of Nethali and the Seminary his only reason for anything underhand or unjust. It was a side Wynn had never seen, that hardly any had ever seen and she understood why he had done it. He loved Nethali and the Seminary more than anything and Wynn had threatened them, he did what he had had to do, could Wynn begrudge him that?
She also saw how Irik viewed her, sceptically at first, and with scorn. He was ashamed of that, but Wynn brushed past it, accustomed to such an emotion. He had then viewed her with growing respect, and now this, complete understanding. He believed she was the Foreseen and the guilt of not trusting her hung over him. It burned through his thoughts and tasted potent on Wynn’s tongue. She wanted to comfort him, but was not ready for such a thing, he may be ashamed but it did not change what had happened.
Wynn shook herself and withdrew from Irik and tentatively allowed him to enter her mind and her body. She was unsure why she allowed it, after all she owed him nothing, but it seemed right after what she had experienced from him. So she allowed her life to revolve around him, everything that had ever happened, every emotion, all her years of pain and fear, every beating, every terrifying moment with the soldiers. The heartbreaking loneliness and need for a companion to heal her heart and help her through. The loss of her family, meeting the travellers and the events that followed; the deaths of Theodore and Rueben, the separation of Braelyn, Griffin and Jareth, the journey to reach the Seminary and finally her battle with the creatures. She heard Irik choke back a sob but still did not stop, she wanted him to know what it felt to be her.
Many moments passed, and eventually Irik took his hand away and looked at Wynn. His eyes had changed she thought, and she knew he was looking at her with a newfound respect. Until now she was the powerful untutored Magus that had reached him by luck, now she was a formidable opponent, one that needed as much guidance as was possible in such a short amount of time.
“I – I...” Irik took a breath and closed his eyes, “Time is against us. Spies have informed me that Aerona’s armies are mobilising. They will march towards Terra, and once that has been invaded, Inlo will be next. Soon all the major towns will be under Aerona’s command and the chance of surviving, let alone defeating her will become too slim.”
“I understand,” Wynn said, “but first you must answer my questions.”
Irik inclined his head.
Wynn’s first inclination was to ask why the students at that had ambushed her and indeed most of the other students and professors hated her, but after hearing the news that Terra would soon be invaded it seemed so trivial. Irik however caught her feelings and smiled weakly at her.
“The students here are from high born families, it is very rare that a peasant or servant is sent here as the magic is so diluted from centuries old trysts. It is a well kept secret that high born are often magically gifted as Mages and Magus disguise themselves to avoid detection, choosing a life of nobility. For who would choose to live a beggars life when you can live comfortably and wealthily? The students here are all from high born families and are closed minded. I apologise again for their behaviour, and for the behaviour of some of the professors, although I think you proved to them not to underestimate you.”
Wynn smiled and nodded, it seemed she would always been judged for her background, she could not change it, only survive it. She moved on, “Can Aerona’s army of Fallen be stopped?”
Irik stiffened and looked at his hands, “My heart wants to tell you yes but I cannot fill you with false hope. I have never encountered them myself but knew the tales and now your memories of them. They are an abomination, who could do such a thing; rip the souls from death and force them into decaying body? It is such that they are already dead and I have not thought of a way that they could be defeated. The only way that will not stop them, but may make them serve you is the Dagger of Night.”
Wynn stiffened, “I am sorry I didn’t –”
Irik held up his hand, “It was your choice not to tell me, and at the moment I know how hard it is for you to trust anyone, I understand. What would I have done with the information anyway, had I known? With the Dagger of Night I believe you can stop them.”
Wynn nodded but her shoulders slumped, so many lives once again rested upon her and the pressure threatened to crush her. Not only did she have to Master her magic but now she had to learn how to control an ancient and dangerous weapon. She wished she could voice her concerns but she still, stubbornly, could not bring herself to confide in Irik, she felt small and sad.
Irik got up and put his hand on her shoulder, “The smallest man can make the biggest difference.”
She smiled weakly, “I hope so.”
Taien walked around the library, his head down, his hands in his pockets, mumbling incoherently. Irik sat at a table nearby watching his friend pace, his face a mask of concern. Taien was young by Mage standards, at twenty three summers old. Irik had known him for five summers, ever since he had arrived at the Seminary, desperate to teach the students. He had trained hard, and excelled at whatever task he was given and yet for as long as Irik had known him Taien’s eyes spoke of unspeakable tragedy in his past and wisdom that betrayed his young years. And though Irik would never mention it, for it was none of his business and it did not hinder Taien’s teaching, he had always wondered what had happened to age a young man beyond his years. Irik himself was over sixty summers old, but his appearance was deceptive. Mage’s and Magus lived far longer than their powerless counterparts, so old age did not creep upon them so quickly.
Irik knew now what was upsetting Taien, and was glad he had the opportunity to help his friend. Taien had not liked having to deceive Wynn by pretending to be a servant and now Wynn was furious with him.
“I am sorry for what I asked of you,” Irik said aloud once again, he had been saying it over and over for hours.
Taien waved his hand and continued to pace, “I am fine Irik, do not concern yourself, I am not important. What matters is that I have felt more of Aerona’s creatures, near our borders. They will eventually break the charms placed around the Seminary and we will have to fight.”
“What are you suggesting?” Irik asked, his voice strained.
“If Wynn dies trying to protect us then there is no hope of stopping Aerona,” Taien wa
s now still, holding his head in his hands, “A few days ago,” he said through his hands, “did you ever think the most powerful Magus to ever have lived would appear at our door, sodden from the rain, untutored?”
Irik laughed softly at the rhetorical question, “It is strange the way Lady Fate works.”
Taien scoffed, “It is more than strange, Wynn is fragile. Did you know she had nightmares that make her scream each night? I sense a conflict inside her. She changes from foul tempered to sweet. The person that battled Aerona’s creatures was not Wynn. I fear for her sanity, I believe the magic she wields is controlling her. Can you not sense it? Something lives, grows and waits inside her.”
Irik stood up and put his hand on Taien’s shoulder, “What are you saying my friend?”
“I believe I should take her to my homeland, away from the fighting until she is ready. If she dies all is lost. It will be a long journey but I am prepared to protect her until we reach my home, there the finest tutors and Mages will help her unlock her magic and teach her how to use it. She would have been safe here, but the magic that protects us is old and dying and the attack of such a vast number of creatures will crumble it.”
Irik nodded slowly and reluctantly. He wished to argue with Taien, to keep Wynn here at Berhandril. Despite himself he had grown to care for her in a way only a childless man could. He saw her as the daughter he had so long wished for. Mages of Berhandril and Herth had ever changing temperaments and he often switched moods quickly, but what he had seen in Wynn was something very different. He did not want to admit that he had seen and felt Wynn’s mind and soul change. It was slow and had been almost undetectable but ever since Wynn had fought Aerona’s creatures three days past he had felt it every more urgently. When he and Wynn had exchanged emotions and memories, as a basis of trust, he had seen something inside her was corrupted. He could not place it exactly or say what it was, but something was taking hold. He tried to imagine it in his head and the only way he could describe it was to imagine a blank piece of parchment as Wynn’s soul. Onto that blank and pure scroll, a bottle of ink had been spilt and was slowly soaking into the parchment, creeping up until it was almost covered. He shivered at the thought.
Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) Page 44