Excusing herself to the impressive beings within the room, she moved for the door, hoping beyond hope upon opening it she would discover a house filled with entities of another world. Turning the knob, she glanced back just once more toward her Carers and found them nodding to her in anticipation, as if reading her thoughts.
Upon her first step into the hall, she discovered a greater plethora of spirit-beings even than before filled the home with laughter, music and dancing. She sighed with emotion, feeling the closest to her old prophet than she had since his passing.
The entirety of the room turned to her with a variety of expressions—including many unreadable ones from some fairly obscure faces—and hailed her enthusiastically, some in her own language, others in foreign tongues and various idioms. So full of joy over regaining her spiritual sight, she was nearly prepared to join in their dancing when she observed a peculiarity about the room: It was clean—arranged just as she had always wished it to be.
“Who… did this?” she asked, looking about for signs of Phillip or Terrance.
“We did tell you we sometimes maintain the cabin in a physical sense,” said Fancii, who had followed her into the main room, along with Laleidiannan and the two Guardians.
“Do you mean… you tidied this place in the span of an evening?”
Fancii appeared affronted. “You do not understand the realm of time in which we exist. We could have this clean in the blink of your eye if we chose.”
Laleidiannan smiled. “However, I must convey it was not merely us who did so, but every creature you currently find here. They all wished to contribute to the small gift of a tidy home. Of course, we had always wished to organize before, but the former prophet did not care for our cleaning.”
“Claimed he liked it as it was,” Fancii added with the roll of her eyes.
Grinning, Wynn knew precisely how they felt. But she could scarcely believe these exotic, extraordinary creatures had been willing to clean her house for her—would care to do so at all. She considered them as they played, danced and sang, discussed deep matters she could not begin to comprehend and exchanged stories. She was awed by them and admittedly uncertain of their eccentricities. But she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt they meant her no harm… and they truly cared for her.
Glimpsing an intriguing sight outside the window, she stepped through the front door. There, she found the wood filled with even more creatures than had been in her little home. Amidst the green of nature were beings she would once have feared. Now, she very nearly understood them, for she knew from where they came.
To her right and to left were the giant Protectors who’d so frightened her that first evening when she had perceived them. Truthfully, they did so at that moment, no matter how affable their greeting nor how large and striking their smiles. Furthermore, she could just see the light of her Guardians trailing behind as she moved. She understood they would very likely follow her wherever she went… as they had apparently been doing for some time. These sorts of ominous, protective beings would take some getting accustomed to.
Pulling her from these unsettling though strangely reassuring realizations, a merry sea of translucent green luminosities twinkled across her vision and landed upon a patch of wildflowers. She drew near to watch as the tiny glowing figures landed upon fresh buds, appearing to tend them, nourishing them with life, beauty and vigor. Kneeling down to peer more closely, she witnessed one of them step out of a previously vacant bud, as if it had moved through it from another place, similar to her vanishing door. Continuing to observe, it grew clear these creatures used blooms as entries to other places.
After surveying them for some time, she made ready to stand when a small phantom of another kind landed upon one of the tallest buds, working to gain her attention. She at first identified the dainty creature as a mere butterfly until it waved with what resembled tiny human hands. It did unquestionably appear human-like but for the colorful wings of a butterfly attached at its back. As she waved back to the friendly creature, it swiftly floated to perch upon her pinky, clearly thrilled she could see it. It then shifted positions to brush its wings together, sending tender music from them that filled her with such freedom she found herself laughing.
Soon, as if in response to her pleasant retort, there were dozens of similar darlings floating about and landing upon her lap, head and shoulders. They each played various parts of delicate music that, all together, became an incredible crescendo. The profundity of feeling within the resonance drew both laughter and tears from her. Unable to control herself, she knew if anyone happened upon the clearing at that moment, all they would witness was a young woman giggling and sobbing while whispering friendly hellos to the air.
Surprised by a satisfied nicker from Juniper somewhere behind the house, she drew herself up and the gathering of glowing orbs and musical butterflies floated and swarmed about her as a symphony of color, light and music. They trailed behind her as she approached her horse to better examine the peculiar creature who appeared to be grooming him. Upon closer inspection, she found the being lulling her sweet horse was an extremely unique entity, with eyes set upon its brawn chest while its mouth was nowhere she could locate. Moreover, it possessed no head whatever… at least, none she could identify. Even so, she heard it give her welcome.
“Juniper has been anxious for you. He’s longing for another adventure.”
Her brows sprang up and she moved closer to coo over her gelding as she studied the truly obscure stranger. “I cannot simply come up with adventures to take him on, now can I?” she commented good-naturedly, though speaking to it was a little unnerving.
“Of course, you can. You are the prophet. You will always have much to do.”
She received the intimation and nodded slowly. “We shall see.”
“We shall,” it said simply. “Delias will wish to see you.”
“Delias?”
The glowing orbs and winged creatures started as a stream into the Enchanted Wood.
“They will show the way.”
She nodded and patted Juniper lovingly before going after them.
The deeper into the forest they traveled, the more interesting the creatures—the very ones who had inadvertently given its name. After all, they had not been quiet in all the time they’d been there, nor had they always been imperceptible. Assuredly, they’d not been aimless, for these had been the ones who often led lost travelers to the prophet’s doorstep and guarded over the spiritual plane of the vicinity.
She was startled as faces appeared upon many of the trees. Some of the smaller ones even walked upon their curled roots. Just as they had made for stunning saplings to the natural eye, their movements proved elegant and graceful, especially the willows along the river. It was ironic that, as her fears of the forest had begun to dissipate, she’d begun to take pleasure in it… and to admire and climb many of its trees. Here, she found not even they had been what they seemed. In a way, she was grateful her spirit-eye had been previously smothered. Now, instead of fearing all she perceived, she was could appreciate their wild beauty. As fluid beings stepped from rivers and waterfalls—for these were also used as portals—they appeared with grace and elegance that alluded to another, far freer and more magnificent world. These waved to her and it was all she could do to rein in her enthusiasm at encountering such utter splendor.
A number of semi-transparent, childlike entities suddenly darted across her path, chasing one another about and playing just as human children did. As they giggled, she desired to meet them, but the stream of music and light continued onward, leading her through a celebratory gathering of various creatures. It was quite similar to the parties she had seen twice within her home, though another sort of enchanting music was played here. Instantly, it made one wish to dance and weep at once just as the winged creatures’ song did. In all, it was a merry woodland celebration that even the natural creatures seemed to perceive and react to.
Finally, she found herself before an e
xtraordinarily tall, old oak. Upon its trunk appeared a wooden face observing her approach. Though awed by the towering tree, she could not help but smile. For, this oak she had claimed as a favorite long ago. She had felt akin to it—attached. It had seemed a friend who lent an ear to her every care. Now, she knew why.
“I am Delias,” the oak announced.
“I had not realized you… had a face,” Wynn said clumsily, feeling quite awkward before it.
The tree smirked. “I know.”
“What are you… exactly?”
“Mmm, I am most often referred to as a dryad in this world. I am Guardian of the Prophet’s Forest.”
Wynn nodded her understanding. “There are a great many things I have not seen until now.”
“We are all present because of you, my prophet. It is you who draws us—your anointing, that is. You, like me, are a true guardian of this forest, just as your prophet-friend was.”
Wynn found herself once more near tears and worked to contain them, but with a sudden sob, they were spilling over. “Oh, pardon me,” she muttered. “I had not thought—had not dared to hope that I, of all people…”
“What did you expect from the Great One’s chosen one?” the dryad interrupted. “Did you think he selected the incapable and then left them to wallow in their inadequacy? Nay, you are a vessel filled with power you have not dreamed of… That, in some respect, is why I wished to speak with you. For, the moment you greeted the wild beings of another world with such fervor, word spread like wildfire through the forest.
“You have entered our world and I wish to congratulate you on this feat and to inform you that we are here to stay, to aid you in any way we can. The responsibilities on your shoulders are endless, powerful one, and you would find it difficult to carry without us. Therefore, we are your support, your protection and we submit to your bidding as you command.”
Wynn stared up at the illustrious guardian of the wood, in awe of the words that had just been spoken to her. “Me…command you?”
“Indeed, dear prophet. As a child of the Great One, you are far more powerful and significant than you realize. You were formed in his image and by his son were you filled with his power. You… are capable of moving mountains. Though, in truth, that is rather a trifling feat in my world.”
Wynn brushed the tears from her face and accepted the fact that the astounding speech just spoken would not find entrance into her heart at that time. All Delias inferred was too overwhelming to comprehend. Though it sent shivers through her, it would likely take some time before she was truly able to step into all she was meant.
Even so, she felt supported and protected—cared for—in a way she had not since the prophet’s passing. Indeed, possibly more so than before. The great many creatures who greeted her as she made her return journey to the prophet’s cabin were full of affection and she sensed such sweet acceptance. She felt as she had that evening when she had cried out her “yes” and it had seemed so many creatures from various realities held her together as she nearly fell to pieces upon the floor. The sensation brought wholeness to her spirit.
- T W E N T Y – F I V E –
The Shaven Lad
“COME, PHILLIP! We both know you can do better than this!” Wynn cried as Phillip parried. They’d been practicing for hours and though they were weary, she knew the toll the Champion’s Tournament would take would be far fiercer. After all, the appointed day was not far off.
“Perhaps you know, Wynnie. I have yet to be convinced.”
She threw his sword from his hand as he fell to the ground. “Phillip… can you not see how far you’ve come in these last weeks. Why, if your family could see you fight as you do now they would think twice before looking down on you again.”
“But I have yet to win against you…” he said dubiously, drawing to a stand.
“Yes, but that’s me. Besides, you bested me the other day.”
He rolled his eyes. “You let me win.”
“Well, I almost didn’t have to. You were nailing it. Trust me, there are plenty of men you could best by now. And we’re not finished training just yet. I think if you could believe in yourself, you’d be surprised by what you could accomplish. Not to mention, we’ve yet to draw out your true fight. You do have something like a temper in there somewhere, haven’t you? Or have years of patiently enduring verbal jabs from your family numbed it?”
He shrugged. “Not that I fancy bringing it up, but there was that day I acted a brute to you, blaming you for what happened with Joselyn. But what does me having a temper have to do with sparring?”
“Oh, that hardly counts. You may have been upset, but you by no means lost your temper. You see, it helps to locate the fighter in you. When we spar, you are performing the moves without passion. Add in a little of the warrior and I think we’d really have something. As we just covered, you were angry over the Joselyn ordeal. Try channeling that.”
“But I regretted blaming you almost immediately after. That anger is long gone.”
“Hm…” She worked to think of something else, looking him over in search of some hint as to what might trigger him. For the first time, she realized how seriously he had taken her advice about the strength training. His lanky form was filling out. Rather than appearing awkward, he was beginning to look something like an ox. That, in itself, would aid him in the tournament, for it would intimidate many of his opponents. Additionally, she realized she could not recall the last time he had tripped over his feet or done any number of the clumsy things he usually did. The training must have helped him grow better acquainted with his body and finally find that balance he’d long been lacking. “Well, we’ll get there,” she said at last. “Let’s go again.”
With a sigh, he readied himself and they began. “Oh,” he said as they continued. “I nearly forgot I am to invite you to dine with the family tomorrow evening. Though, I warn you, my mother has half a mind to adopt you now the prophet is gone. She can’t bear the thought of your living out here on your own.”
She nearly grimaced at mention of adoption. It came too near the offer Elizabeth had made when she’d tried to convert her to the SCSS. That, of course, reopened the relentless argument she’d been having with herself for some time: whether or not to risk telling Phillip the truth about his sister… whether or not it was, in fact, dishonorable not to tell him he had a sorceress living under his roof. But whenever she came close to spilling it, she pictured his own sister taking his life. Wynn simply could not bear risking it. The loss of the prophet was too fresh. Thus far, Phillip and his family were safe. She did not wish to alter that.
Mention that Lady Colten wished to soothe her now the prophet was gone made her recall the days since the news of the prophet’s passing had been announced. The people deeply mourned the loss, stunned he had actually left them after all the stories they’d heard how he never aged and never died—generation to generation, he had been there. The one they were accustomed to turning to… was gone.
She, being left in his stead in the face of such sorrow, feared becoming an utter disappointment. Many who had regularly visited previously had already ceased their calls. But there were those who accepted her willingly, in faith of the prophet’s judgement. Moreover, some merely transitioned from the old prophet to the new as if it was a regular occurrence. She was the prophet now and that was that. They did not understand how “these people” were chosen, but they received them with grateful hearts.
Unfortunately, she yet struggled with performing miracles as the prophet had. Bewilderingly, she also excelled in it… but not in a way that could be readily shared with others. For, there were some evenings she awoke from dreams in which she had accomplished strange feats. Then, she would receive some piece of news and learn she had actually accomplished them… in her sleeping life. It was as if the spirit of the Great One was possessing her, using her at will while she was unconscious. This was discomfiting, to say the least, and it left her questioning why he would do such a t
hing. Moreover, she wondered why her abilities were yet blocked in her waking life. She questioned if it was not her own doubt, fear and anxiety, perhaps even sorrow, that caused it. Therefore, the Great One merely used her when and where he could… while she was asleep.
The first time this occurred was a great shock to her. In the dream, she’d appeared within a disheveled village in the mid of night. She sensed in her spirit it had recently endured some hardship with a failing crop because of draught. Therefore, many had grown weak and weary, so the town had been left in disrepair.
Before she knew it, she found herself breaking into one of the homes. The building was dark and grimy and she heard coughing sound from various rooms, a sign of illness. As it was a bitterly cold evening, she knelt before the empty fireplace and, noting the single piece of old, nearly spent coal, she touched her finger to it. Next thing she knew, the hearth was filled to brimming with coal.
Clearing most of it into a bucket, she stirred the coals within the fireplace about. The old embers burned and the new coals were glowing with heat. Before long, a satisfying fire was ablaze, swiftly filling the home with warmth of a comforting, otherworldly nature. In fact, the coughing soon ceased and she discerned the anointed heat from the unique coals was healing their weary bodies.
Turning to the kitchen cupboards, she found scant remnants of an old loaf of bread, a single jar of preserved peaches and a moldy potato. Very nearly against her will, she lifted the squelchy potato and peered at it with purpose.
“Multiply,” was uttered from her lips. Reaching to her mouth in response to the inadvertent command, she watched as the vegetable became fresh and whole again, increasing in size. Soon, there was a pile at her feet. Now understanding what she was capable of, she turned to the old hunk of bread and spoke, “More.” With that, a dozen steaming loaves lined the table.
The Prophet's Apprentice (Chronicles of the Chosen) Page 31