The Kingmaker Prophecy

by Gemma Perfect

  With a final push from her already exhausted mind she sends the smoky demon straight at Zanna and as she does, it whirls around her like a tornado, a spine-chilling scream coming from its wispy mouth.

  Human screams join the wail from the demon’s mouth and only Halfreda is silent as she stands up and directs more energy at the wraith, only stopping when she feels a pull on her arm.

  She turns to face the teacher and as their eyes lock, the demon disappears. Zanna has fainted to the floor and Halfreda cannot help the smile that makes her lips twitch, even as she lowers her eyes from the teacher’s condemnation.

  Menna rushes to Zanna’s side, and scoops her head into her lap. Mal feels her forehead and the teacher takes something from his pocket and holds it under her nose. Zanna wakes with a splutter, and a cry and Halfreda sits back beside the fire. Everyone is calm now and quiet; the strange tension that follows an unsettling episode filling the air in place of the demon.

  “Are you alright, Zanna?”

  Zanna turns and points at Kinsey, her voice verging on the hysterical – a change from her usual robotic tone of voice. “You did that!”

  The teacher kneels in front of her, holding her face, making Zanna look at him and not Kinsey. “Zanna, it wasn’t Kinsey. It really wasn’t.”

  Menna leads Zanna away from the fire before things get worse and slowly, conversation starts again; everyone shaken up and quiet.

  The teacher brings Halfreda ale and a small, dense, square of sugary fudge. “You’ll do yourself a mischief engaging in things like that.” His voice is quiet, but Halfreda is sure he’s not too cross with her. “May I ask why we were entertained in such a way?”

  “Because she’s horrible. She was being so nasty to Kinsey. Kinsey’s only a baby.”

  “I agree with both of your points but I’m not sure that was helpful or appropriate. Have you ever summoned a spirit before?”

  Halfreda shakes her head, overcome with an unnatural tiredness. She sits before she falls and the teacher gives her more fudge. “That was extremely dangerous, Halfreda. Without knowing what you are doing, that could have had terrible consequences. How did you even know what to do?”

  “I just did what I thought was right, what I thought would work.”

  The teacher considers her, his expression unreadable.

  “Are you cross with me?”

  “Not cross. Bemused, I think. Why would you ignore your powers for so long, barely be convinced to tap into them, and then conjure a spirit into physical form the next day, with no preparation or experience?”

  Halfreda shakes her head; put like that it sounds ridiculous. “I have no idea.”

  “Besides, deserving or otherwise, who are you to dole out justice?”

  With no answer to give, Halfreda keeps her mouth closed: point taken.

  7

  When the teacher leaves Halfreda’s side, Nerida takes his place.

  “Was that anything to do with you?”

  “It was.”

  “It was incredible!”

  “Ssh. The teacher is cross with me.”

  “I’m sure he is. It was amazing.”

  “But dangerous and stupid.”

  “Maybe. But it worked out well. You scared Zanna – and I’m guessing that was the point?”

  Halfreda takes her arm and leads her away from the fire, to the edge of the vegetable garden. “I had a vision. Earlier, with the teacher – I saw Zanna stealing from Mal.”

  Nerida covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh, no.”

  “I don’t know if she’s done it, or just thinking about it, but I can’t stand to look at her. Then when she was being so horrible to Kinsey – I had to do something.”

  “I’m glad you did. It was scary, though. I don’t know how you did it.”

  “Neither do I really. I’ve never done anything like it before. Probably won’t again, either.”

  “Oh, Halfreda, you have such power.”

  “And the teacher wants me to use it to kill innocent little girls.”

  Shaking her head, Nerida follows Halfreda. As much as she envies her powers, she doesn’t envy the position she’s been put in. None of them would want to ignore the teacher’s advice, but if Halfreda moves to the castle, she will have to kill the Kingmakers. There’s nothing else to be done.

  They come across Kinsey sitting outside the room she shares with Zanna, leaning against the door, a forlorn look on her face.

  “Are you alright, Kinsey?”

  The young girl shakes her head. “Not really. Zanna is in there. Menna gave her a tonic of some sort or another to make her sleep. But I don’t want to go in there.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Nerida says, placing her hand on Kinsey’s shoulder.

  “Why don’t you gather your blankets and come in to our room. You could sleep on the floor between our beds. It won’t be the most comfortable but...”

  Kinsey nods, getting to her feet, relief covering her features. “Really?”

  “Of course. She was so mean to you earlier.”

  “I know – but I didn’t attack her with that demon, I promise-”

  Halfreda looks awkward. “That was me, Kinsey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get the blame, I just wanted to stop her being so horrible all the time.”

  “She is horrible, isn’t she?”

  “She is. Come on, we’ll help you.”

  Luckily, Zanna sleeps through the three of them gathering Kinsey’s nightdress and bedding, and the three girls are soon tucked up in their beds.

  “Thank you.” Kinsey’s voice is small, just like she is and Halfreda is glad that she did what she did. She is proud of herself.

  She lays in bed, and soon the other two are asleep. She listens to the snuffling sound of them sleeping and shuts her eyes. She relaxes her body, wriggling her hands and feet. Was she stupid to do what she did earlier, summoning a demon to her side? Probably. She has never done anything so bold before; she has never accepted her powers so brazenly, encouraged them and flaunted them.

  She grins, thinking about Zanna fainting onto the floor. It was so satisfying, dangerous and foolish but so good – and easy.

  So easy. You’d think summoning a demon to your side and giving it a physical form might be a little more difficult, even if it was just to stop a novice such as herself from doing it. But it had been simple.

  She thought it, and it happened.

  She sits up, reaching for the ale she keeps by the side of her bed. The room is tiny, just two beds, two small tables and a chest at the end of each bed for their clothes. Suddenly, she feels claustrophobic. It’s only because of the warmth from the three of them, she’s sure.

  She pulls on her cloak and slips out of the room, treading carefully and closing the door quietly.

  Could she really be the most powerful witch in the whole Realm? The wise woman of the castle? Was that her future?

  There are too many questions, ideas and thoughts filling her head. She cannot breathe. She’s too hot.

  Struggling to even see straight she uses the wall to guide her, hands flat against the bricks, sweat pooling at the small of her back.

  The room rushes around her, everything is fuzzy and then she faints.

  She becomes aware of the world around her again, slowly.

  The first thing she hears is the teacher’s voice, soft and melodic. “Well, that was interesting.”

  “Interesting? I wouldn’t call it interesting. It was terrifying.” Menna’s voice is hoarse with worry.

  “Visions often are. Watching someone familiar act in such an unfamiliar way is disconcerting to say the least. The way they move and sound is so different to their normal selves, it’s eerie.”

  “That’s the right word. Eerie. But what she was saying. Do you think she’s right?”

  “Hard to say. She’s talented. We saw that earlier.”

  “Talented – but stable?”

  “I think so. Despite the drinking. She’s just young to have suc
h powerful gifts. It’s why she’s here, so I can help her, guide her.”

  “True. I’m not happy, though.”

  “There’s nothing we can do. If what she says comes to pass, then there’s nothing we can say or do to stop it.”

  “We could try.”

  “Impossible and you know it. It could be an illness or a terrible accident. Nothing we can do. We won’t inform Zanna of what’s been said. It would traumatise her. Although I don’t like her, I would never do that to her.”

  “Agreed.”

  “What about Halfreda? Will you tell her about it, what she said, what she saw?”

  The teacher touches his palm to Halfreda’s forehead. “If I am right, Menna, she has heard everything we have just said.”

  Halfreda opens one eye. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I feel...” She swoons slightly, even though she hasn’t moved.

  “Menna, fetch her a tonic, please?”

  Menna nods and bustles away to the kitchen.

  The teacher helps Halfreda to sit up, supporting her against the wall, straightening her cloak.

  “That was quite the vision. Do you remember any of it?”

  Halfreda shakes her head. “It might come back to me. Sometimes they do. How many have I had since I’ve been here?”

  “This will be number eight.”

  “I only remember two of them.”

  “It’s not unusual. Also, you may remember something from the vision but not remember that it was from the vision. It might feel like a conversation you’ve had, a book you’ve read or a play you’ve seen. It might feel familiar to you, though you won’t know why. None of this is exact, Halfreda. But you heard what I said about this one?”

  “I wasn’t trying to be deceitful. I just felt dizzy.”

  “I didn’t think you were eavesdropping or being deceitful. I don’t have many visions but when I have them, I know that coming out of them is like coming out of a long, deep, strange sleep – a sleep with vivid dreams that feel real. Also, you probably hurt yourself when you fell, and you thrashed around a fair bit, so you’ve probably got some bruises to come.”

  “Was it scary to hear? What did I say exactly?”

  “You said a lot: some of it in a language I didn’t recognise, some chanting, some incantations I knew. Then you spoke, in our language, but a voice I didn’t know – it was not your own – you spoke of Zanna.” He pauses. “You foretold of her death.”

  Halfreda turns white, covering her face with both hands, crying. “That’s dreadful. I’ve never done that before, have I? I don’t want to have this power, this responsibility, this knowledge. It’s awful.”

  She sobs silently until Menna comes with her drink. “This will make you feel better.”

  Halfreda takes the drink but sees the expression on Menna’s face, the look in her eyes: fear, apprehension, distrust, and she cries harder.

  8

  Nerida wakes Halfreda the next morning, but she buries her head under her blankets. She does not want to face the day and she especially does not want to face Zanna.

  What sort of gift is that? Telling of someone’s death. It makes her feel culpable, responsible for the death. Is she? Does she dislike her so much that she brought the vision to pass? She needs to speak to the teacher, and so reluctantly, she climbs out of bed.

  Kinsey is smiling up at her and together the three of them head for breakfast. Zanna is there, sitting alone, and when Halfreda meets her eyes she feels a shudder run through her, bile rising in her throat. Have I sentenced you to death? As the thought crosses her mind Halfreda pushes it away. She will not think of death, but she will speak to the teacher.

  There is an uneasy feeling throughout breakfast, with only Menna, Mal and the teacher chatting to the passing visitors, and the few that are staying in the round house. The four girls are quiet, barely looking up from their food.

  Once they have eaten all that they are going to, the teacher tells Zanna to help Menna in the kitchen. He tells Nerida and Kinsey to collect ingredients from the woods and he sends them off with a list and a basket each. Then he draws Halfreda to his side.

  “I imagine you would like to talk to me?”

  “I need to.” She buries her head in her hands, crying quietly. With anguish etched over her features she looks up at him. “Did I do this? To Zanna? Has my dislike done this to her-”

  “Halfreda, we all die, however well liked we are, or however much we are disliked.”

  “So, it’s not my fault?”

  “No. You have a powerful magic, but I cannot see that you have cursed her in some way. It may be that you had the vision, specifically you, because there is that connection between you, but you are not the cause. I told you I was unable to see a future for her. Maybe you have just confirmed why.”

  “So why do I feel so awful? Foretelling of a death feels more than just stating the obvious that we will all die.”

  “It is. A foretelling is more; she will not die peacefully in her old age, a happy and contented old woman. We know that much. Again, it may be that her death will be unusual and that’s why you had a vision of it. Hundreds of people die daily, especially the older amongst us, the frail, the very young, the ill, there is nothing interesting about that. A vision is usually something worth having, worth knowing.”

  “But why me? Why do I need to know?”

  “It could be a warning. Maybe it’s a vision of something that will happen, but it could change...” The teacher looks thoughtful, a frown on his face, as he mulls things over.

  “Should I tell her then?”

  “Maybe I should. I know more of the details of the vision than you, and she won’t enjoy you telling her anything.”

  Halfreda nods.

  “Leave it with me. I will consult with Mal and decide. Generally, telling someone that their death has been foretold is a terrible idea – it makes them jumpy, makes them disregard safety. They get foolhardy and stupid. But there may be something here...she is young and...” He tails off again. “Halfreda. Stay away from her today. Please. Leave it to me.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Go to Nerida and Kinsey, or back to bed. Just don’t go near Zanna.”

  Halfreda heads through the woods, hears chattering and laughter and veers in the other direction. She shouldn’t be around people. For all the teacher tells her she is special and has wonderful gifts; there must be something wrong with her. It can’t be normal for someone to foresee the death of another. It isn’t normal and she knows it.

  She heads to the river; where she always goes when she needs peace. She sits on the bank and watches the water tripping over the small rocks, and pushing its way between the rushes.

  If she could slip into the water and float away, she would.

  She feels a spirit near her and closes her eyes; she doesn’t want to talk today. She doesn’t want to allow spirits to enter her consciousness. She doesn’t want another vision or a magical encounter. She wants to close her eyes and pretend to be normal – pretend that she doesn’t have these useless gifts.

  Maybe she needs to speak to the teacher again tonight, after the evening meal, and tell him that she’s changed her mind; that she wants to go home.

  She shakes her head. That’s not really what she wants. She likes being here with Nerida and Kinsey. She is learning from the teacher and Menna and Mal. The strangers that visit the round house become friends and teachers also, however short a time they stay for.

  She likes the comfort of knowing that the teacher sees her future, knows she will be happy and useful.

  But this vision of Zanna, this unwelcome foresight of someone’s death is something she doesn’t want. Doesn’t need. She is already too new to this, too new to her acceptance of her gift. She doesn’t want to accept this strange new reality where she sees the death of her friends or family. Who will want to be in her company if they are fearful that she will make some sombre or macabre announcement as soon as she looks at them?

&n
bsp; The teacher was right to send her away from the others.

  She rests her arms across her face, even with her eyes closed the sun is too bright.

  A shadow falls over the rest of her, and she knows it is Zanna before she opens her eyes.

  “I know it was you who set that spirit demon on me yesterday.” Zanna’s voice is hard and cold.

  Halfreda keeps her arm across her face, her eyes closed. She shakes her head. “The teacher told me to stay away from you.” There is no anger in her voice, no inflection at all.

  Zanna steps closer to her. The hairs on Halfreda’s arms prickle.

  “I blamed Kinsey, but now I know it was you. I overheard the teacher talking to Menna.”

  Halfreda opens her eyes and seeing Zanna towering over her, hastens to stand, shuffling away from her and taking a deep breath. “I am sorry for that, truly. I felt annoyed at the way you were arguing with Kinsey and I wanted to get back at you. I was foolish. I had no idea how to handle it. I’m sorry.”

  Zanna snorts and steps closer again to Halfreda.

  Halfreda hears the teacher’s words and sees the look on Menna’s face again; the fear, the distrust. She cannot be near Zanna, not now that she has this knowledge about her. It wouldn’t be fair.

  “Please Zanna.”

  “Please Zanna.” Zanna mimics Halfreda, an angry sneer on her face. “You didn’t worry about me last night. That demon could have killed me. Possessed me. Who knows? How dare you play with somebody like that?”

  Halfreda holds her hands up in a placatory manner. “I am sorry. I know you won’t believe me and you don’t like me, but I am sorry. Please let’s go back to the round house-”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Let the teacher take your side again. You should have heard him talk to Menna about you. He’s just so impressed with you, it’s sickening. You’re not the only one around here with abilities or powers. He doesn’t see any of us because of you.”

  Halfreda decides to run. Zanna will not listen to her; does not want to hear what she is saying, and Halfreda cannot stand to be near her.

  Not only is she feeling Zanna’s anger towards her, but Halfreda is feeling a tingling through her whole body at being so close to her, knowing what she knows. She feels her breath start to catch, become shallower. She feels a sweat break out in the small of her back, and she feels like a bad thing is coming towards her, rushing at her.