Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) (11 page)

Wynn slept on and off for days, the agony of her cheek and loss of blood confining her to her bed. Flashes of Cook and Braelyn beside her – cleaning her wound and giving her water – sometimes crept into her conscious. She never saw them; her eyes were constantly closed to avoid looking directly at anyone, she could not face their tender loving eyes, but she felt them as a presence. And when Wynn was not sleeping, she tried to make sense of this new force inside her. She had never felt so connected with everyone around her, and yet more isolated at the same time. It was unnatural, and yet she felt like she had discovered a part of herself that had been hidden. She had never considered herself particularly perceptive, she could read surface emotions easily but anything deeper was something that she skimmed past, there was no point paying much attention to anyone, but now she could sense and experience exactly what others around her were feeling, and it scared her and fascinated her in equal measures.

    
And when Wynn was not puzzling over her newfound skill, or fearing the consequences of it, the pain in her cheek forced her to sleep. Sometimes after waking she would still feel like she was dreaming and the only thing that she found helped her differentiate from reality and dreaming was the same nightmare she had each night. When she was awake she was freed from it – and gladly took the confusion and pain – for when she was asleep it seemed ever more terrifying. She had always dismissed the dream, and accepted that it was something she could not change, but this new skill forced her to consider that the dream may actually have happened. That the woman, who had protected her, Elina, really
was
her mother. As she tried to capture the image of her mother over and over again, guiltiness descended, guilt that she had discarded Elina as nothing more than a character in the dream. She felt sick to the pit of her stomach, for the years of denial, this dream – or nightmare she corrected herself – was the only thing other than her necklace, that she had of her mother.

    
If the dream then was real, the woman that had murdered her mother was real too. Aerona. The very word made bile rise in Wynn's throat. If her dream were true then every night she had witnessed the death of her mother, by the hands of a Magus. The dream took on a new, frightening, dismal persona, it was more than a recurring nightmare, it was the death of her mother, and her murderer. Wynn longed to ask someone about the dream, but she knew no one would understand or be able to offer an explanation. Magic, legally, didn’t exist, Mages, Magus, Gypsies, anything remotely supernatural had been stripped from the historical records, and to talk of it was forbidden. Rumours throughout the years had led Wynn to believe magic had once been accepted and praised. Those with it were revered and respected. Now the only remnants of the old times were Gypsy folk, the race most associated with magic – for it was in their heritage and culture – were outcasts, forced to move every few weeks to avoid detection.
 

    
Patiently she pushed the thoughts away and focused on breathing, she found her mind wandering to the Gypsy folk time and time again, it seemed to be more often than not as time was lost to Wynn in her near constant state of pain. She considered what she knew of the race, they were linked undeniably with magic, tales of palm reading and tarot cards travelled far. They had lived in the plains around Woodstone and throughout the lands but now they were exiled. Wynn had only ever seen a Gypsy once before, he was brought through the town and the inhabitants brought out to watch as the soldiers erected a gallows and walked the man to the noose and hung him. Wynn remembered it clearly; he was hung for suspicious and unacceptable behaviour. The soldiers did not need to translate it, it meant he was sentenced to die because of his heritage, of a family and lifestyle he had no control over.

    
“Wynn?” A voice urged, Wynn coughed and woke up suddenly, sitting bolt upright in surprise. Cook stroked her arm and gently laid her back onto the bed, “Wynn try and eat some bread, you haven’t eaten for four days.”

    
Wynn glanced around the room, swallowing as Cook's concern flooded into her and swirled like smoke through her body. To appease the feeling she took the bread and chewed on it slowly. It was soft and sweet in her mouth and due to her starvation tasted more wonderful than anything she had eaten before. She took the other slices that Cook had been holding and wolfed them down. Cook smiled proudly and sat her upright again when she was done.

    
“How are you feeling today?”

    
“I’m... better,” Wynn said eventually, touching her cheek warily. Her fingers touched the crust of a thin scab and she choked back a sob knowing a scar would soon follow. A permanent reminder of that which she hated most, the one thing on this earth she would do anything to see destroyed, to even think his name was disgusting. Lord Oprend. She bit her lip until she tasted her warm, salty blood. Wiping it away she closed her eyes and took a deep shaky breath to steady herself. Once she had calmed herself she swung her legs over the side of the bed and shakily stood up; the floor was cold on her bare feet. Gingerly she walked over to the mirror and stared into it. She could feel Cook’s unspoken objections but ignored them. Her reflection revolted her, her hair was limp and her face pale, dark bags were etched under her eyes and the scab was black and very visible. She turned to Cook.

    
For the first time in her life she wondered about her parents, would she have had a chance to live a happy life if they were alive? Or was she always destined to serve and obey? Was the woman she saw each night in her dreams really her mother? Wynn took a deep breath.

    
“Who was my mother Cook? Do you know?”

    
Cook, taken completely by surprise, took a moment before she could speak. Normally Wynn would have had no option but to wait patiently but now she had access to Cook’s thoughts and emotions. Despite herself Cook began to remember while she thought of the best way to phrase what she was about to say. Wynn stumbled backwards, recovering before Cook could notice, as Cook thought about the moment she had entered Elina Fillamenth’s burnt cottage and found Wynn crying in her broken and scorched cot. Wynn had no recollection of it, she was only a few months old, but the cottage was same one she dreamt of each night, and the body... Wynn took a shaking breath as Cook remembered the broken and burnt body of Elina, sprawled under a pile of rubble. She was almost unrecognisable but through the blistered and raw skin her black hair and emerald eyes were unmistakeable. The same woman Wynn dreamt of each night.

    
“I knew your mother,” Cook whispered, “it was many years ago, but she was a beautiful person, inside and out, she made her trade as the village wise woman. If I remember rightly she moved to Woodstone over two decades ago and she was well loved. She – she died That Night.”

    
Cook said no more aloud, but her thoughts continued on, how horrific it was to find Elina dead, how it was another body to add to the pile of dead men, women and children. Cook had been a member of the search party, when the army had awoken and Lord Oprend had recovered. Cook had found Elina and her baby and was ordered to take Wynn straight to the Manor. It was the way of Woodstone, an orphan instantly became property of Lord Oprend and Cook had had no option. The moment Wynn was found Lord Oprend instantly claimed her and gave her to Cook, deigning her able to care for the baby, Cook had no choice but to agree. Cook remembered the days after That Night, the inhabitants were reeling from the scores of dead left in the square and Lord Oprend was agitated for Cook had done something terrible.

    
Wynn listened to Cook’s guilty conscious; the moment she had woken she made her way to the Great Hall to check on Lord Oprend, Lady Oprend and their baby. She found Lady Oprend slumped on the floor, her face frozen in a blood curdling scream, holding a baby. Cook checked the infant and found it was unharmed. She took it from Lady Oprend’s clutching arms and ran from the Manor before Lord Oprend and the army woke, her only thought to save the baby, she could not willingly condemn the child to a father such as Lord Oprend. She reached the square as people were beginning to leave their homes and she seized upon her chance.

    
She hid the baby in the forest, nestled between two huge oaks that overlapped, creating a small crevasse that would serve as the perfect place to both hide the baby and keep it safe. She left the baby girl on the moss that grew in the crevasse, leaving her white apron as a blanket. From there she made her way to square, not having to pretend to be horrified at the massacre that had ensued. The bodies were lifted free of each other and lined up so they could see who was dead. Over four hundred men, women and children lay in the amber light of sunrise. Cook helped identify the bodies until Lord Oprend entered the square, flanked by the army. In that moment the inhabitants knew things would never be same, the look of greed on Lord Oprend’s face was chilling. He ordered a search party to check if there was any left that they had not been identified. Cook gladly offered herself, glad to be able to help any way she could.

    
It was some hours later when Cook, a handful of volunteers and three soldiers stumbled across the ruins of Elina Fillamenth’s cottage. Elina had been somewhat of a social recluse, her clients made their way to her cottage deep in Lumber Wood if they needed her for she rarely frequented the town. It was the last home they had left to search; the soldiers thought it a waste of time. Nothing would have happened to Elina, they reasoned, she was the village wise woman, but the plumes of smoke rising above the trees told a different story. They found the broken and torched remains of Elina’s cottage just as the sun had reached the middle of the sky. Faint crying echoed around the forest and it was then, as they stepped into the wreckage of the cottage, that Cook saw Wynn.

    
Cook picked up the baby tentatively, thinking of Lord Oprend’s daughter still left in the hollow of an oak tree near the square. Could she save this baby as she hoped to save Lord Oprend’s daughter? She turned, holding the baby and the soldiers frowned.

    
“How did she survive?” One wondered aloud.

    
“Lady Fate,” Cook smiled despite herself.

    
“Aye of course it was,” another soldier said sarcastically, “let’s take her back to the square, there’s at least half a dozen orphans that need sorting.”

    
Cook carried baby Wynn down the beaten path and entered the square with the soldiers and volunteers. Lord Oprend stood by the tavern, overseeing his people. As Cook came into his line of sight his eyes widened.

    
“Woman, here,” he snapped and Cook, perplexed, walked over to Lord Oprend. He opened his arms and Cook handed Wynn to him, quelling her protests, she feared Lord Oprend would kill the baby, but instead he ran his finger along the golden necklace that adorned Wynn’s neck.

    
“This is Elina Fillamenth’s daughter?” He asked.

    
“Yes Master,” Cook replied.

    
“She is to be taken to the Manor immediately, you are to care for her until she is old enough to work for her keep, understood?”

    
Wynn watched the memory unfold, Cook took Wynn back to the Manor and left her with another servant, intent to save Lord Oprend’s daughter. If she could stop one child from living under Lord Oprend’s rule it would be enough. She took the baby from its hiding place and handed it to a soldier who in turn placed it with the other orphans. As Cook walked away she heard Lord Oprend’s sneering words cut through the silence of mourning.

    
“Those with no family... I don’t know... send them away. I certainly do not want any more children taking up space. I am sure Kingly and Methis would gladly take them, it is free labour after all.”

    
Cook glanced at Wynn now, her expression guilty despite the fact her thoughts and memories should have been a secret. Yet Wynn knew, if only Lady Fate had allowed her to be sent away with the other orphans she might have had a different childhood. Why was she different? Why was she so special that Lord Oprend himself had ordered her to stay when the rest of the children had been shipped away? Wynn gulped, she would never know because she could never ask. She was not meant to have heard Cook’s thoughts just as she was not meant to question Lord Oprend’ decision. But something had happened, something that made her question the very nature of her life. Everything Cook remembered coincided with her dream, yet Wynn had been too young to remember anything of That Night, and certainly had never considered her dream to be true... Cook’s memories changed everything.

    
“I’m ready to get back to work Cook,” Wynn said to fill the silence, “may I have a bath?”