“Just what is it you want?” she asked.
Blinking into her face, he further attempted to catch the color of her irises but soon realized the longer he stared, the more fury emanated from her. “Uh—er, forgive me…” He swallowed. Words, he needed words. “I… did not mean to stare. I am searching for someone.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, it isn’t me, I can promise you that.”
“I was thinking the same,” he admitted. “But your cloak...”
She peered down at the cloak cascading over her frame. “I can assure you, you won’t have it off me.”
Phillip felt himself blush under the accusation. He had never been accused of plotting any kind of misdeed. “You misunderstand me. I was told to come here. I am to fetch a young woman in a green cloak.” Drawing a little nearer, he endeavored to discover the hue of her eyes.
The young woman considered him, as if working to gauge just what game he played. It was clear she could not place him and his discomfiture was not helping. He certainly wouldn’t be like the rest of the men who dwelt in the ravines.
“And why do you come here, of all places, looking for a girl?” she queried, holding out her weapon to keep him from drawing any nearer.
He froze, having witnessed what she could do if she should label him a true threat. “The, uh… the prophet sent me,” he swiftly supplied. Surely, the prophet’s reputation would put this situation to rights. “She is to be his apprentice.”
“Apprentice, eh?” she replied. “Well, you’re not going to take any girl out of here to send off to your prophet, I’ll make certain of that.”
He blinked and realized he was getting nowhere. This girl was obviously accustomed to men of another sort. He had to be barking up the wrong tree. Even so, she might be able to lead him to the one he was supposed to find. Now dawn had passed, he was going to need all the help he could get.
Attempting to muster a congenial smile, he stole a large breath and held out his hand. “Can we not begin again? I am Phillip and I assure you I come here with no ill intent. May I… inquire your name?”
She glared at his hand. “Wynn.”
He startled as he looked her full in the eyes. “Wynn? But your eyes aren’t green.” Indeed, they were not green and her hair was that fiery torrent of red. That should have been the first item noted when describing her appearance. It was nearly entrancing how the various hues glistened and shifted under the piercing rays of daybreak. Even so, her name was Wynn and she possessed an emerald cloak, two items that very rightly concluded this was his girl. This being so, the task might possibly be even more difficult than he had initially conjectured.
It struck him how young she was. He had imagined someone much older, in the very least his own age. Instead, she appeared to be a few years younger than himself, a girl of sixteen or seventeen. But what was a girl of that age doing in the cliffs all alone?
She blinked at him and backed away, clearly thinking him disturbed thanks to his unthinking words. “I suppose I should be going now... I’ve somewhere to be.”
He attempted to backtrack. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just that the girl I was sent to find was to be named Wynn and wearing a green cloak and… you fit the description thus far.”
She looked him over once more, at first perplexed and then appalled. “Well, I’m not going anywhere with you, you pig. It’s men like you who forced me into learning to fight and don’t you go imagining I am unprepared to teach you a lesson, gentle manners and all.”
She had begun to back away as if to exit when she inadvertently bumped into Peggity, Phillip’s dappled mare, who had noticed the strange girl her master was speaking with and had grown curious. Also, there was a nice patch of something green at her feet. But as Wynn turned and muttered a surprised, “Oh!” the horse evidently concluded she liked this curious girl-thing with the yellow eyes of a cat as she began to lip at her arm, searching for treats.
It seemed Wynn could not help being drawn in by the exceptionally friendly creature. Caressing the horse’s cheek, she murmured with a tenderness Phillip had heard nothing of in the moments prior, “You’re a winsome animal, aren’t you?”
Peggity could not know what was said but she liked her tone and opened her upper lip to play at the long strands of the girl’s blazing mane.
In those moments with his horse, Wynn seemed to forget Phillip had caused her some alarm and commented quietly, “What an endearing horse you have—strong-looking.”
Pleased to have gained this new level of understanding thanks to his darling Peggity, Phillip tread carefully. “Reliable, too.”
At the sound of his voice, she turned and shot a quick glance his way. If he were capable of reading minds as often his prophet-friend seemed to, he would come to understand she had not been around many horses, but she recalled coming across those whose owners had not been gentle men—rather, were wild and cruel. Those animals, as a result, were nothing like this one. It stood to reason if this horse was any reflection of her rider’s character, perhaps the stranger was as mild as his easy smile intimated.
“Who is this prophet you speak of?” she finally asked.
“You’ve not heard of him?”
She raised her brows with a measure of impatience. “Clearly not.”
“Oh. Well, he is sometimes called ‘the wizard.’”
“A wizard?” She quirked her brow. “What sort of wizard?”
Now he had muddled it. “Er, well, he is not actually a wizard. It is only that some believe him to be. Nay, he is a prophet.”
She took a step away from the mare to look him squarely in the face. “But what precisely does that mean?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, he searched for a description of his friend. This was the first time he had ever needed to explain to someone just what the prophet was, so well-known was he, and he hoped she was not envisioning the dreadful wizards and warlocks one typically encountered. He further worried he would make the man sound like a common fortune-teller, most of which were merely glorified tricksters.
“He… performs many wonders… including and mainly seeing into people’s hearts, pasts and futures and speaking what has been, what currently is and what is to come—whatever the Great One chooses to reveal.”
She studied him, silently appearing to weigh what he had said. Indeed, when not angry with him, she might have been rather pretty but for the hardness about her eyes.
Finally, she replied, “It is clear you greatly esteem this man—this… prophet, as you call him. Men well-kept as you aren’t normally in for that sort of thing.” She paused, biting her lower lip and seeming to think the matter over once more. When her attention returned to him, she said, “If the man is genuine, perhaps he would tell my fortune—reveal if my life will always be what it has been thus far.”
By the expression in her eyes, Phillip conjectured she did not believe that was something worth living for.
“I might have been tempted to come with you…” she continued thoughtfully, “just out of curiosity. But I’m afraid I’ve somewhere to be just now. I must bid you farewell.”
She looked as if she would depart that moment if he did not find some way to delay.
“Wait!” was all he could think to shout.
The girl turned to him with a mixture of pity and irritation, waiting for what he would say.
“Er, uh... w-well… where do you have to be?”
She huffed. “Not that it is any of your affair, but I’ve heard about a position in the kitchens of Valdren Castle.”
This was something of a pickle. She had plans to work in the castle and did not understand that she was called elsewhere. This appointment would be a waste of her time. But that wasn’t something he felt up to explaining. “Are you… truly set on this situation?”
She raised a severe brow at him. “I am at that. I’ve been working odd jobs my whole life for good enough references to gain even the slightest chance at a steady occupation. I’m not going to miss my cha
nce."
That was something he felt unable to dispute. Even so, the prophet had said to use any means necessary and seeing that he was not only unwilling to force this girl to accompany him, but was, moreover, reluctant considering her talent with the sword, he must attempt to persuade her with words. Unfortunately, he was finding it as difficult to speak with her as with any other woman aside from his own mother and sisters and the female elders of the community. Indeed, he found women somewhat frightening. This one was a force to be reckoned with. How was he to speak convincingly when she was more alarming than any girl he had met in his life? Nevertheless, this errand was not only for his best friend, but for the Great One himself. He must press on.
“But do you not see that the prophet of this land is already offering you a position?” he tried.
She froze a moment, then chuckled. “You mean I am meant to ‘see into people’s hearts, pasts and futures?’ I’m afraid I find that rather doubtful. Nay, I assure you I am far more qualified for the position in the kitchens, if even for that.” With that, she refastened her cloak and started on her way.
Watching her retreat, Phillip silently threw up his hands and turned to his horse. What was he to do? Peggity blinked back. He must go after her. Taking the mare by the reins, he jogged forward.
“How else do you think I was able to find a girl named Wynn in the middle of the cliffs if the prophet had not been shown by an all-seeing god?” he asked with more conviction than he had felt in some time.
She turned to him in surprise but appeared to be thinking over what he had said. “I cannot fathom the ways of prophets and the like. All I understand is what is before me… and that is a kitchen.”
“But the Great One, the one true god, chose you. Can you not grasp the significance of that? The prophet has never had an apprentice in all his days.” He knew he was beginning to sound more desperate than persuasive, but it was the best he could do.
She cast him a dubious expression, but he could tell he had hit on something.
After some moments, she muttered, “Look, this all sounds like something of a fairytale. All I know is, I’ve got the best chance I’ve had in my life in those kitchens. Therefore, I can promise you this: I will come and meet your prophet if I do not acquire the position.”
Looking her over, he could tell even she doubted she would follow through on this promise, though she was undoubtedly curious about the prophet. And what if she attained the post? Then how was he to convince her to accompany him?
“What if…” he began thoughtfully, “I should promise you that I could very likely get you that position without much hassle at all after you have met the prophet and if you decide you do not wish to remain with him?”
She ceased walking. “What do you mean?”
“My father is a friend of Lord Valdren’s. I would have only to drop a word with him and you would very likely have it, references or not.”
Her eyes narrowed. He could tell she was attempting to determine if he spoke true. Truth was, he himself could very likely see the lord or any of his staff and the vacancy would be hers.
“Very well,” she relented with a huff. “I doubt your prophet has anything to say to me that could keep me there, but I believe you speak true and that is an opportunity I have no business turning my nose up to.”
He was nearly woozy with relief that he had actually convinced her to accompany him. Indeed, he now realized that from the moment he had understood this force of a sword-wielding redhead was the one he had been sent to find, he had not truly believed he would succeed.
“Just how far are we going?” she inquired when he found himself speechless.
He cleared his throat. “He dwells in the Enchanted Wood.”
“Enchanted Wood? Isn’t the place haunted with fairies and devious sprites and the like? I don’t care to meddle with such things.”
“I assure you there are no evil sprites in those woods, nor any magic of the usual sort.”
“That cannot be,” she insisted. “Why should it be called the Enchanted Wood if it is not... enchanted?”
He struggled with this. There were valid reasons the forest was said to be magical and there was even evidence that mostly unseen beings dwelled within the woods that were not completely unlike fairies, whatever those were supposed to be. But he knew for a fact that none of it was what it seemed to the untrained eye. “It is difficult to explain… but you will come to no danger.”
She contemplated this with an unconvinced eye before, “Fine. Let’s be going.”
The knot in his stomach released. Pulling himself onto his horse, he timidly offered her a hand.
She merely blinked up at him. “I’m not going to pay you. You’re the one who wanted me to go, remember?”
Taken once again off his guard, he blinked back. “I was offering you a hand up.”
She folded her arms. “You don’t think I’m going to ride with you, do you? No, sir, I’ll be just fine on foot.”
His face clouded. He wasn’t any more thrilled about it than she was. He’d never sat two to a saddle before and was already a terrible horseman. Not to mention she made him unintelligibly nervous. “I’m afraid you’ll have to,” he admitted. “It would take too long to travel at a walking pace and I don’t know where we’d stay the night if it came to it.”
After glaring up at him for some time, she at last pulled herself up of her own accord.
- T W O -
The Enchanted Wood
WYNN REFRAINED FROM speaking as they rode. She assumed this was perfectly agreeable to Phillip, for it meant they could travel at a steady speed without having to worry about keeping conversation. At about mid-day, he halted his winsome mare to rest awhile upon a grassy knoll. She was satisfied with this plan until Phillip, attempting to dismount, drew up one of his lanky legs and booted her soundly upon the jaw.
“You clumsy oaf!” she cried, grasping at her jawline. “That is the second time I have been injured for your senselessness this day!” This, of course, included Phillip’s distracting offer to aid her in the skirmish against the thieves.
“I am so terribly sorry!” he cried, tumbling to the ground. Swiftly rising, he attempted to aid her from the saddle, but she swatted him away.
“For heavens, I’m no great lady!” Sliding from the animal, she added, “As if I would trust a one such as you to safely see me down.”
She turned from him and sat herself upon the hill under the dancing shadow of a tree. If not for her throbbing face, it might have been one of the more pleasant settings she had found herself in some time. Contentedly, she pulled an apple from the pack at her side and took a bite from the crisp fruit.
Wishing to resume the silence between them, she ignored Phillip as he sought some food from the saddle and proceeded to drop it several times before whispering a rebuke at himself and at last settling against the trunk of one of the trees somewhere behind her.
In truth, she could feel sympathy creeping in, though she tried desperately to suppress it. Neither pity for herself nor for another human soul had ever done her any favors. It was a weakness she had been working to quell for years.
“So… where are you from?” he mumbled.
He was going to make an attempt at small talk…
“Here and there.”
“Have you… any family around these parts?”
“No family.”
“You mean none nearby or... none at all?”
Rolling her eyes, she replied, “None.”
A moment of silence passed before, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Oh, me too, she thought with bitter mirth.
Silence commenced for a time and Wynn was grateful his store of prying questions had run prematurely dry before he interjected again.
“How long… have you been without family?”
Her nonchalance failed her as she was taken back to that age, the day she had found herself completely on her own. She could even feel a tear threatening the corner
of her left eye, but this would not do. She had grown up a pitiably sensitive creature and it had taken some time to suppress that side of nature. Instead, she had learned to lean upon her anger. She hated recalling the loneliness and vulnerability. Certainly, it had been difficult to overcome her own smallness and make up for it with other qualities. But all that was behind her and she would not look back if she could help it.
“A while,” she choked past her apple. Clearing her throat, she added, “Since I was twelve.”
“Oh. Then you’ve lived with friends since then?”
She shook her head and could sense Phillip’s consternation even before he asked, “Then you... you’ve been on your own all this time?”
She nodded and her heart hardened. He would pity her. But being on her own had been what had finally given her the tools to survive the world without exposed heartache. She had grown hungry, then desperate, but then, at last, she had hardened. That was her soundest protection.
He seemed to struggle with her answer for some time before muttering, “How?”
Glancing back at him, she knew what he was asking. He wondered how she had remained safe from the hands of those who might use her for their own gain. How had she not died of cold, illness or starvation? How had she managed to take care of herself at such a tender age? It had been a harsh road, but she had traversed it without aid. She had endured life on her own for years, having failed to gain trustworthy companions. But she highly doubted one dressed so finely as this man with a father who was friends with a lord could relate to any of this.
“I was good at hiding,” she replied, “and scavenging. I learned to hunt and eventually to do odd jobs for coin or food.” She paused before adding, “I’m not a thief.” Most like her would have learned to steal or even kill for what they needed to live, but she had never managed to stomach either.
The Prophet's Apprentice (Chronicles of the Chosen) Page 2