Wynn blushed. She had not expected this kind of questioning, especially when the prophet had only just begun her training. “Er, well, this and that. We’ve just started.”
“Only just? Goodness, I’d have had you started that first evening, if you were in my care.”
Wynn lifted a brow. That was an unusual thought. “I wasn’t ready, you see.”
“Ooh, I highly doubt that. That old prophet is just a little too cautious for my taste.” Wrapping the bun with a decorative braid, Elizabeth took a step back. “There you are, beautiful. And we’ve your gown and shoes on the bed just there. You must slip into them quickly so we do not keep everyone waiting.”
Nodding, Wynn took up the velvet gown, hardly believing she was meant to wear it and take it home with her.
“So, I suppose you’re quite fed up with your situation by this time?” Elizabeth inquired.
Wynn’s brows went up in astonishment. “Hardly. I love living with the prophet. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Elizabeth’s lower lip drooped. “You poor darling. I don’t suppose you’ve any idea what you’re missing.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean, you could live here.”
Wynn’s mouth nearly dropped open. What an idea! “Why on Kaern should I do that?” she asked as Elizabeth fastened her into the gown.
The girl spun her around to face her, taking gentle hold of her arms. “Wynnifred, I’ve the opportunity of a lifetime for you.”
Wynn peered into her face, mind racing. Why should Elizabeth’s bright smile make her stomach toil? Pulling away, she lifted her skirts to slip into the silver shoes.
“I know Maera can come across as an eccentric,” Elizabeth began, “but if you should take your cues from me, you and I might be the youngest and most powerful members the SCSS has ever had.”
An icy chill went through Wynn as she stared wide-eyed at her friend. Of all the things for this conversation to have led to, she would never in a thousand years have expected this. “I-I don’t know what you mean…” she murmured, starting for the door. But the knob would not budge.
“Hold on a moment,” Elizabeth called, striding across the room. “I realize your run-in with Maera was likely strange; she is a bizarre woman. But I was mentored by Arcadias, one of the most patient and understanding women you will ever meet. And she doesn’t hold back like some people.”
“Like the prophet you mean?”
She nodded. “Exactly. After Maera opened my eyes to my potential, she attempted to hold me back too, only letting me inch forward enough to keep me amused. But Arcadias revealed to me how many sorcerers will do so purposefully. Can you deduce the reason for this?”
Wynn smiled, though her legs shook beneath her. “Why should I when you can just tell me?”
She chuckled. “They do so once they sense the one they’re training might actually have the capacity to surpass them. Your poor old prophet, bless his soul, is afraid of what you will become if he is not careful.”
Wynn raised her brows. Listening to Phillip’s sister speak with such arrogance only proved the prophet had been correct in waiting until the time was right. One needed to be prepared before they were trained in the supernatural. Also, they needed to not be trained in the dark arts by daemon-possessed aids of the Dark One. Indeed, as she studied the girl’s eyes, she recognized that eerie glow. She could scarcely believe she had not discerned the corruption so poorly concealed.
Elizabeth smiled. “Now I have your attention, I will explain precisely what it is I offer. Firstly, a place under this roof, as one of us—one of the sisters. I’ve seen how you love Phillip and Meg. You could spend your every day with them, become family to us all, treated just like one of us. Of course, you would not possess the standing of apprentice any longer, but you would have our name behind you.
“However, my family could never know what you and I are about. While here, I will instruct you until you have reached equal level with me. After that, we will visit Arcadias until we have achieved our fullest potential. Then…” Her eyes glowed brightly as she lifted a brow. “…you and I will proceed to overthrow the Secret Circle of Southern Sorcerers… that is, after they have accomplished their current task: regaining control of the southern region.”
Wynn was dumbstruck, unable to understand how Elizabeth thought any of this would sound attractive to her.
“Wynn… do you not see what I am offering you? Along with the most loyal of lifelong friendships with the most promising of sorcerers, myself, you and I could one day not only reign over the southern region… but all of Kierelia. I’ve heard how the other sorcerers refer to your power, how Maera sensed what was in you. Your throne is already waiting. All you must do… is accept. Accept all that I offer. In exchange, I ask only for your sisterhood.”
Wynn shook her head.
“I know, Wynn. I felt the same when Maera offered me but half of what I’m proposing.”
Wynn’s hands tingled for the blade that should have been around her waist instead of lying across the settee. Not that she meant to use it. She only wished to grasp it for support. It pained her to learn this about Elizabeth… Phillip’s own sister. How and when had this transpired? Maera must have sensed a similar capacity for power in this girl that she sensed in Wynn and had taken advantage. Oh, poor Elizabeth. And poor Phillip! To have a witch for a sister, a member of the SCSS!
“Elizabeth…” she began tentatively, “how long has this been going on?”
Immediately, the girl shifted as she discerned Wynn’s true feelings. “Long enough. Why must you know?”
Wynn shook her head. “I don’t need to know, but… you must speak to the prophet. We must get you help. The prophet says when you accept anything from a witch, you must loose it from your soul. You may have daemon sprites to deal with.”
The young sorceress raised her brows. “You dear, little thing. Heavens, I’m not asking you to save me. I’m requesting you join me.”
She shook her head. “I can’t… That is, I don’t want to.”
“Why ever not? I offer you the moon and you’d rather slum in some grimy little cabin in a disturbing wood?”
“But what you’re offering me is work for the Dark One… I would never take part in that. He is all that is foul in this world. How could you want that?”
“Firstly, we work with him, not for him. Secondly, who ever said darkness was such a bad thing? Is not the evening beautiful? Does not the moon still shine?”
“Evening is beautiful… but the enemy’s darkness runs so much deeper. The Dark One despises humanity—loathes the Great One.”
“Oh, who told you that? Your prophet? And how old is he exactly? I’ve heard tales of him dating back before Kierelia was even a kingdom. That dear, old man is batty in the head by this time and you know it.”
Wynn nodded. “He’s definitely that, but he’s a great deal more than I think you or any of your cohorts have any idea of.”
She shrugged. “You may be right by the way Maera speaks of him, but that doesn’t mean he can rightly help you access the power pulsating through your veins. Doesn’t it burn?”
Wynn considered a moment. No, she had never felt it burn. In fact, she had never in her life desired power except to defeat those who would harm her. She had that in abundance with her blade. Now, she realized, all she really yearned for was to become only and precisely what the Great One desired. He had seen her for who she was and he had wanted her, chosen her and placed her in the care of the sweetest man to have ever tread the surface of Kaern. She needed nothing more.
“Elizabeth, I must tell Phillip.” She turned the doorknob. “I’m sorry, but it’s for the best.”
Elizabeth’s eyes bulged. “How did you turn that? I had a hold on it. You’re holding out on me!”
Wynn looked on her with pity. “I just turned a knob, Elizabeth…”
The sorceress scowled and took a step toward Wynn, looking down into
her small face. “I will allow this conversation to cease for the time being, but you will not reveal a single item we have discussed to another living soul, do you understand?”
For the first time since Elizabeth’s unexpected confession, panic flooded Wynn as she studied the face of the girl standing over her, teeth clenched, eyes wide and glowing. She glanced across the room at her sword, wishing once more she had thought to put it on over the delicate dress she now desired to tear into pieces and throw into the fire. Instead, she took a breath, stepped back and started down the hall.
In moments, her arm was caught in the vise of Elizabeth’s hand. “You listen to me, sweet, and you listen well. If you so much as dare to hint at my secret…” She drew nearer her face. “…I will hurt everyone and anyone you love.”
Wynn stole her arm back. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare!” she sneered, no longer pitying the girl, but perhaps just beginning to detest her.
With a callous brow, the young sorceress smirked.
With that indifferent smirk, she believed her.
“Just… try… me,” Elizabeth whispered. “You love your little birthday horse? He’ll be gone. Then, of course, there’s the prophet… which might be a little more difficult, but I’ve got comrades in high places. Lastly, of course, there’s Phillip…”
“Your brother?” Wynn squealed in disbelief.
“Ssssh!” Elizbeth lunged for her, throwing a hand over her mouth. “Keep quiet or he’ll be the first. He’s always been an abhorrent nuisance anyway. Would be like swatting a fly.”
Wynn highly doubted that. No matter what egotism Elizabeth took in her schemes, she knew Phillip’s sister was not the heartless, all-powerful sorceress she claimed to be. Still, as Elizabeth attempted to force her back into the boudoir, she knew it was time to take action.
She elbowed her in the stomach and ran.
“Wait!” Elizabeth cried, gasping and bent over.
Wynn nearly laughed over the useless command as she sprinted for the stairwell. But suddenly, the sorceress was behind her, grasping her arm as they reached the top of the staircase.
“I said wait,” she growled, grasping at Wynn’s hair and yanking her back.
Stars raced about Wynn’s vision, but her eyes were suddenly opened to the slimy, inky daemon sprites perched upon the girl. “Elizabeth…” she screeched, “you’ve got daemons on–”
“Quiet!” she demanded, desperately flinging her backward.
With a gasp, Wynn went flying and then falling… until she was swiftly caught up into a pair of arms.
“Wynn!” Meg squealed, looking down at her in Phillip’s lanky appendages. “For heavens, you might have been seriously hurt! Whatever happened?”
As Phillip put her to rights, she stole a deep breath and threw on a weak smile. “I’m afraid I’m not accustomed to long skirts such as this,” she said.
“You fell that far from a trip over your dress?” Phillip questioned, looking into her face with suspicion.
She shrugged. “Guess I’m not fine-lady material.”
Wordlessly, he peered back at her, clearly reading something in her face she must quickly conceal, else there would be further questioning… and hell to pay.
“Phillip, I don’t suppose you’d assist me down the stairs?” she requested. “I cannot bear the thought of another accident occurring before enjoying some of that cake.” How she wished this was all she had to be concerned with.
After the others had entered the dining hall, she pulled back a moment, allowing the door to close before her. Elizabeth had just threatened all she held dear. What was she to do now? Dare she enter and reveal all she knew, hoping she and the prophet could defend them? Nay, that was a chance she could not take with Phillip and his family. She must take time to consider the matter later. Now, she must pretend to relish the remainder of this once beautiful party. Stealing a long breath, she released it and entered the hall.
- N I N E T E E N -
An Unexpected Journey
IT WAS SOME DAYS after the birthday celebration when Phillip found himself astonished by Wynn’s patience as she tested his skills with the sword.
“I can see you know most of the basic moves,” she said. “What we must work on is your execution.”
That was a more promising conclusion than any of his trainers had provided. Yes, after years of attempted coaching, he had picked up the basic stances. Unfortunately, it was a rare occasion he ever successfully implemented one of them.
It was difficult to imagine Wynn would have been as understanding when first they’d met. It was a true testament to her transformation since coming to live with the prophet. Of course, having a home and someone who actually cared what happened to one was certain to make a difference. But he knew her life in the wood was much more than that. It had given her purpose.
“I’d like to see that advance lunge once more,” she directed.
“But I trip over my feet every time... It gets a little humbling after a while.”
She raised a brow. “Seeing as how you’re the humblest person I know, I don’t see why that should be an obstacle.”
A compliment? It was difficult to tell whether his being meek when he was meant to be valiant was considered a positive trait, especially to someone like her. “Very well,” he relented.
Taking his stance, he awaited her explosive lunge. Instead, her attention appeared to be caught by something behind him. But when he turned to discover the mystery, she lunged, lightly poking him on the shoulder. This was his moment. He started forward, counting the timing in his mind. Yet, he soon found himself tumbling over the weight of his sword. Next thing he knew, he was falling into her. Instantly, she lost her footing and went down without a chance to catch herself. A sharp smack resounded.
He turned to find her lying unconscious. “Wynn!” He dove to her side. Lifting her head, he discovered the embedded stone beneath. After a fervent inspection of her crown, he found it was not bleeding, but it had swelled considerably. “Wynn!” he shouted again, lightly patting her cheeks and praying to see those lashes flutter open. Instead, her freckled face grew pallid.
Heart pounding, he lifted her and rushed into the cabin. But upon throwing open the door and nearly dropping her in the process, he found the prophet not within.
“Prophet!” he tried.
Nothing.
Glancing down at her, he found her whiter. But he could not think while juggling her in his arms, so he placed her into one of the chairs before the fireplace and stole a moment. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he studied her, hoping at any moment she would awaken. His eyes fell to the blue woolen blanket at the back of the chair. Swiftly, he unfolded it and draped it over her elfin frame.
Taking a step back, he deliberated. Truly, he knew not what to do. The prophet was usually the one he went to for such things and there he stood in the man’s house to no avail. Smelling salts, he recalled. His mother used them for Meg when she endured her fainting spells. But scanning the shelf where the bottles were kept, not a one was labeled with the phrase.
The fire, he thought. Moving toward it, he found it instantly ablaze. “I thank you,” he murmured under his breath. At least she would be warm enough… if that did any good whatever.
But what was there for him to do? He knelt on the floor beside her. Absently, he took up her hand, fiddling with her tiny fingers until he became aware of what he was about and instantly dropped it. He began fidgeting with the edge of the blanket until he found it unraveling. Standing to his feet, he exhaled, hating this feeling, this helplessness. Yet, he knew it, oh, so well. It was why his fingernails were so often trimmed to bits.
“Ergh.”
With a leap, he twirled about. She was stirring. Kneeling beside her once more, he awaited that moment… the moment her eyes would open and she would assure him that his clumsiness had not left her braindead or ungainly. Then again, it would be nice to have someone just as bungling as he was around. He cursed the thought.
&nb
sp; Her eyes flickered open.
“Wynn?” he murmured, sitting forward.
She squinted at him. “Did I… fall asleep in the middle of our lesson?”
He nearly laughed with relief. “Not exactly. I… well, I knocked you out.”
“Did you?” She raised her brows. “Well done.”
He dearly wished to leave it at that, but he had been raised by the servants of the manor to be forthright. “Er, well… I tripped and knocked you over. We’re lucky we didn’t have any mishaps with the blades. Unfortunately, you struck your head on a rock.”
She winced upon sitting up, reaching for the back of her head. “Well, curse that rock. I’m going to fetch it and toss it in a lake.”
“I may just do it for you.”
Ever so slowly, she smiled as she lay back in the chair. “You poor thing. You probably thought you’d killed me or something.”
He colored. “Something like that.”
“Well, little did you know, my skull is made of steel… though I could probably use a cup of milk.”
Promptly, he moved to pour it.
“And maybe… maybe some of those jammy biscuits,” she added.
“You got it.” He handed her the milk, moving for the basket of biscuits.
“And while you’re there, perhaps a spoon of honey?”
“As you wish,” he replied, reaching for the jar.
“Oh, Phillip, you awful pushover!” she declared with a giggle. “I’m only teasing.”
Shaking his head, he arrived with both biscuits and honey. With an impish grin, she took them both. Seeing she had everything she could possibly need, he took a seat in the opposite chair.
“I had the most peculiar dream while I was out,” she said through her biscuit.
“Do share.”
“Really? Most people hate hearing dreams.”
“Yours was caused by my big clumsy feet. I am obliged.”
“Well, it began in the night sky. I was sort of… floating in it. You follow?”
“Indeed.”
Wynn had been somewhere in space, among the stars, when a man unlike anyone she had ever seen appeared before her, motioning for her to follow. This mystified her until she realized she was capable of flight. Obediently, she trailed the being over and around stars, this way and that, until they were unexpectedly soaring downward. Down, down, down they went until they had landed upon a piece of land beside the ocean.
The Prophet's Apprentice (Chronicles of the Chosen) Page 24