The Prophet's Apprentice (Chronicles of the Chosen)

by Cassandra Boyson

  An enchanted giggle escaped her lips and she turned to the empty cupboard once more, seeing the preserved peaches. “Oh, so much more,” she whispered. Subsequently, the cupboards were brimming with a wide variety of scrumptious bounty.

  She stepped out of the home then and marched to the center of town to proclaim, “Expect love, love and more love!” In her spirit, she sensed a shift and understood what had just occurred in the previous dwelling was repeated in every home.

  “But that won’t do,” she said. But the comment was not her own. The Great One had more for this village. Turning to the sky, she shouted, “Eat and drink, for I hear a mighty rainstorm coming!” With that, she awoke and found herself sweating in bed.

  The following afternoon, Terrance appeared at the cabin to see how she was faring.

  “Have you heard about the Meadowlake village?” he asked upon taking his first bite of their meal.

  She shook her head.

  “But you had heard about the terrible draught they endured this past season—how the lake dried up and their crops failed, leaving them destitute?”

  Something in the mention of that draught caught her attention and she sat up in her chair. “No, I had not.”

  “Ah, well, it seems they were on the brink of starvation. The surrounding villages had refused to aid them, as they were struggling themselves, though none so terribly as Meadowlake. Lord Valdren had sent provisions, but it seems they never arrived, likely stolen by vagabonds along the way. Anyhow, there is talk of a miracle having transpired last evening, for they not only awoke to the sound of pouring rain, thereby ending the draught, but they discovered oodles of coal and food to keep them warm and fed for the remainder of the season.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest. “H-how has this happened?” she asked, awaiting some valid explanation.

  “No one knows, but they’re certainly having a celebratory time of it, hallowing the name of the Great One for his kindness and all that. They’re even sharing their bounty with the villages who previously refused to help. It has become a township of cheer, so they’re saying.”

  Following this visit, the odd dreams that were not truly dreams continued. But in her waking life, she found herself nearly incapable of anything like what she accomplished in her sleep, plagued by doubt and mortification. Indeed, the more visitors who called in hopes of a miracle, the more she dreaded the visits. Though there were cases when those she’d touched received their healings much later, no one was ever certain if it had actually come through her.

  Thankfully, she did see success in one area of her giftings and that was the very gift from which her namesake came. She was growing in the prophetic, seeing and interpreting visions as the prophet had taught her. Though in the beginning she had sometimes been told by the receivers she had seen incorrectly, she had pressed on through the shame and discomfiture until she began to differentiate the voice of the Great One from her own. Soon, word spread that she was, despite everything else, at least capable of this. Therefore, there were often lines formed outside her door, as if she was now meant to catch up on all the matters that had been plaguing them since the prophet’s passing.

  “Oh, Phillip,” she cried as she tossed the sword from his clutches again, “you’re not even trying.”

  “That’s just it! I am… This has just never been a strong area for me.”

  “Well, it will be before the day of that tournament arrives or I am not the prophet of this region.”

  “Dear me, do not barter your position over my ability or neither of us will get anywhere.”

  She shook her head. His heart was not in it. He was a peace-loving man, full of kindness and compassion. Combat was not in his nature. But every nature, no matter how saintly, was capable of anger… and that was what she needed to inspire.

  An idea striking her, she demanded they go again.

  “Phillip…” she began as they dueled. “I wonder why your brother has not returned after all this time.”

  His sword met hers with force not previously displayed.

  “I cannot say,” he replied. “For all I know, he’s dead.”

  “But that isn’t very likely, is it?”

  “Not really...”

  “I wonder why he did not care to keep his promise to you?”

  His movements grew fleeter and his body moved on instinct rather than premeditation as he matched her swing for swing.

  “He may yet,” he murmured.

  “After all this time?”

  At last, he was on the offensive and it was all she could do to defend. She had unearthed his trigger and unlocked a man far more capable of battle than he or his family had likely ever dreamed. She hated to do it, but she troubled herself to take it a step further. “I suppose… little brothers never mean as much to their elder brothers as they would wish.”

  Moving entirely on impulse, he nearly struck her square in the chest. They drew apart, breathing hard. She sensed both his pain and shame.

  “I am so sorry,” he murmured through breaths. “I don’t know where that came from. I would never wish to wound you in any way.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It was instinct. In no longer overthinking, you bested me. I knew you could do it.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t like it.”

  This shamed her. “That is because… you reacted from the rawness of your pain. It was my doing, I’m afraid, and I am sorry for it.”

  “You mean… you pressed me about my brother on purpose?”

  She nodded, though she did not like to. “I just had to find that fighter. Now you’ve connected with it, that won’t be necessary anymore.”

  “Well…” he began, raising his brows, “thanks. I suppose I won’t be an utter disgrace to the family after all.”

  The authenticity of his appreciation soothed her. “Far from it,” she replied. “Shall we go just once more?”

  He nodded almost eagerly. Even so, once they began, she found he no longer gave his all. Now his anger had dissipated, he was overthinking again.

  “Oh, come on, old man!” she shouted. “You can do better than this!”

  Something flashed across his face: a surprising vulnerability. In a flourish, he knocked her to the ground, her sword flung across the expanse.

  “Ho-ho!” she cried delightedly, holding out her arm for him to pull her up.

  His face remained solemn as he lifted her. “I’m not much older than you are, you know,” he said plainly.

  She chortled. “Old enough!” Hardly believing he had bested her twice over, she dearly anticipated the day he would be revealed as the skilled man he now was. It might just knock the wind from his disparaging parents.

  “Old enough for what?” he questioned.

  It startled her to find him so distraught, taking no delight in his victory whatever. “I don’t know… old enough to be older than me, I suppose.”

  He peered into her face a few moments, something of that vulnerability yet in his eyes. Then, he huffed and turned his back on her, marching from the clearing.

  “Where are you going?” she called after him, utterly bewildered.

  “Home!” he shouted back.

  She was left blinking and utterly astounded by his response to her teasing. After all, he could only be something in his mid to late thirties, could he not? That wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. Of course, there was a youthfulness about his personality that often made her forget their age gap. When first they’d met, she’d thought him much older, but she had learned better since.

  Still, she felt uncomfortable as she watched him go. He never called the manor home. And there had been something in his tone, his solemnity and needing her to know, that made her almost ache. Though she could not put her finger on just why, it made her fidgety.

  * * *

  As Wynn readied herself for the supper at Sir Colten’s manor, she dreaded the occasion for a number of reasons. Firstly, Phillip had been incomprehensibly upset with her when last they’d spo
ken. He had not been by the cabin all day, though he’d come every other day since the prophet’s passing.

  Secondly and foremost, Elizabeth would be there… and Wynn had yet to determine how to manage the situation. By keeping the knowledge to herself, she was beginning to feel herself a traitor to Phillip and his family. If only she had told the prophet of this trouble before he’d passed. She’d planned to tell him, of course, to ask of him what she was to do… but she’d thought she had all the time in the world.

  As it happened, she had stopped by the manor even before the prophet’s departure in order to speak with Elizabeth. She’d hoped to encourage her to abandon her daemonic inclinations, but the moment they were alone, the elder girl clutched her by the arm, holding a dagger to her neck.

  “Have you told him?” she barked into her face.

  Wynn worked to wrench her arm away, finding the grasp surprisingly steadfast. “Told who?”

  “What do you mean ‘who?’ How many people have you told?”

  “I haven’t told anyone. I’m fairly certain you’d know if I had.”

  “But have you told the prophet?”

  Wynn considered lying, if only to see what she would do, but that would be foolhardy. “I have not. You said you’d harm anyone to whom I revealed your secret.”

  Elizabeth glared into her eyes, working to read the truth in them. At last, the corners of her mouth curled into an icy smirk. She released the hand and removed the dagger. It was more pleasing than Wynn would admit to witness Elizabeth’s surprise when she noticed the sword pointed to her gut.

  “That would have been foolish,” Elizabeth said coolly. “My comrades would have avenged me and then where would you be?”

  “I have no desire to harm you, Elizabeth! I came to help. Clearly, you are a gifted woman or the SCSS wouldn’t have sought you out. But you were made by the hands of the Great One. He is the one who designed in you the capacity for great things. Are you not curious as to why?”

  Almost surprisingly, the elder girl’s face softened. Something in her understood this wisdom. But in the next moment, she slapped Wynn across the face. “If you ever try to convert me again, there will be far more where that came from.” With that, she disappeared.

  It had been a setback, to be certain. But the words had reached her; the seed had been sown. All Wynn must do is wait… and perhaps that seed would take root.

  Now, as she slipped into the green velvet gown Elizabeth had given her, she loathed herself for wearing it. But for good measure, she threw on the string of black gems. Yes, these had been gifted her by a sorceress who threatened all she held dear. But she could not bear the thought of the sisters making her over again. She had come to the realization their fixing her up was really something of an insult, an insistence she was not enough as she was. She knew dear Meg merely liked making a doll of her, but she garnered it was Lady Colten who put the idea into the girl’s head.

  She attempted to style her mass of red hair, managing to tame the curls and pin back one side with a dainty clasp she’d found in the attic. True, she was not nearly as elegant as Phillip’s sisters, but she felt confident it was enough for their table.

  After a stroll through the creature-filled forest, she appeared before the manor, working to brush aside her anxieties. Thankfully, she had dined with them a number of times now and did not feel so uneasy as in past. In fact, she had always been made quite welcome. After all, they had thrown her a lovely birthday celebration—the first of her life. This place held many more positive memories that far overshadowed the disagreeable one with Elizbeth... right?

  “You’re here already?” a voice spoke from behind her.

  Upon turning, she was taken aback. “Phillip?” Could it really be him? But he was shaven! Always, he had hidden behind that mask of beard. Now, here he was with a clean face and he hardly looked himself. It called all the more attention to the changes in him since they’d begun training. All of a sudden, he was a rather healthy-looking giant of a clean shaven, admittedly handsome young man.

  “You really are my age, aren’t you?” she admitted with astonishment.

  He smirked, clearly satisfied by her realization. “Well, I am a few years older,” he teased.

  “Sure… but not a decade or so like I thought…”

  “I know…” he said with a meaningful smile. She could tell he was pleased she saw him for what he was. It made her feel terribly foolish that after all that time getting to know him, she had been so very incorrect in this.

  “Well, it is not my fault you covered half your face with hair,” she defended, “and have the personality of a grandparent.”

  He laughed easily. “Do I? So much time spent with the prophet, I suppose.” His eyes sparkled as a giddy little boy and she knew precisely why he had shaved. It had been to prove her wrong.

  “Well… let us go in and get this over with,” she said, starting that way.

  Catching up to her, he asked, “Are you not looking forward to dinner with my family?”

  “Er, no. I mean, yes…” She could not tell him his eldest sister wanted her dead now she would not join her cult. “I mean…”

  “I know… They can be a bit much sometimes.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not it. It’s just… well, there’s something I need to tell—”

  “Wynn!” Meg cried as she raced out to her. “Good gracious, you look beautiful! And do you even recognize our dear Phillip? Who knew there was such a fine-looking man beneath all that beard and bone? Did you recognize him?”

  Wynn laughed. “Only just.”

  “Phillip, mother would like to see you a moment before supper,” Meg informed. “I’ll take care of dear Wynn.”

  Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he submitted, though Wynn sensed he did not like leaving her. She, too, wished he would remain. It occurred to her how vulnerable she felt knowing Elizabeth was about. Even so, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

  “But truly, Wynn, is he not the handsomest man you’ve ever seen now? I am so proud of him for finally having shaved that forest critter away.”

  She could only laugh. For the first time, she grasped why Phillip’s mother and sisters were always trying to get her to notice Phillip… Because he was not actually the older man she had supposed him. Moreover, she knew how they felt about her position, first as the apprentice and now as prophet. Even so, she discerned the matchmaking would cease, if not now that he had grown so handsome, then after he had proved himself in the tournament. For, if they’d had previous trouble finding him a bride, they would have none after.

  The moment she entered the receiving room, his mother made certain she was sat beside him. Moreover, she seemed to be watching for signs Wynn had noticed the change in her son. Evidently, Lady Colten had no idea how much time they spent together outside of her home, for Wynn had been noting the transformation even before he had shaved. Not to mention, she had already thought him the finest, kindest person she’d ever known. Thankfully, he had not properly seemed to take notice of his family’s efforts to push them together, else the present situation would’ve been utterly unnerving.

  But she had little time to think on this as Elizabeth sat in a far corner, pretending to read while watching her every move with a mischievous smirk. Wynn was disappointed there did not appear to be any change of heart since last they’d met. But for the moment, she was more concerned for herself. She felt certain the girl had every intention of making trouble for her. She must be on her guard at every moment. She knew Elizabeth’s weakness was to keep her family from discovering who she truly was. That easily worked to Wynn’s benefit. With Meg around, it would not be difficult to avoid being alone with the young sorceress.

  At last, they were seated before the dining table. A sumptuous meal had been prepared, even grander than previous ones now Wynn officially held the title of Kierelian prophet… or so Phillip whispered when a fine stag was brought to the table, fully roasted and towering ove
r the dinnerware. His mother had ambitious taste.

  The central topic of conversation proved to be the Champion’s Tournament as it was due to take place three days from then. Somehow, she had not realized the occasion was so very near. Her mind raced over their last training session as she determined whether he was ready. In the end, she felt just as she had before: he was about as prepared as he could be. She did regret not having put him up against other swordsman that he might have experience with other methods. But as she was more than talented herself, she supposed it could not hinder him too much. Still, her stomach turned in knots. He must do well, not because she had taken the time to train him, but because he was dear Phillip… And she longed to see the look on his family’s faces when they saw how greatly they had underestimated him.

  When Phillip nudged her knee with his own, she realized Sir Colten was speaking to her.

  “Of course, as far as we have understood it,” he said, “prophets have always come from families of the best bloodlines, though they do live so humbly. I suppose that is so they might reach even the poor. It is very good of you, of course, but I am curious from what vicinity you heralded before coming to live in our wood.”

  Wynn felt Phillip’s eyes on her. Of course he knew the truth about her past and he was as aware as she precisely what his father was attempting to learn… He wished to know what fortune she might possess.

  “I traveled for years before I came to live here,” she replied simply.

  “Why, how grand for you,” Lady Colten said. “I had always wished my father would send me away to gain a little culture, but it seems I’ve been cursed to live in the country all my days. You must tell me of the places you’ve seen.”

  Wynn set down her fork and smiled. She, of all the people in the world, had seen many things and many places… but of late, she had seen much more. “I have traveled to the Greater Archipelagos and to the kingdom of Wysteria upon the planet Morgus. I have ridden on the back of a dragon and breathed freely beneath the surface of water. I once treated the broken arm of a spoiled princess and have met the leaders of entire planets…”