Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) (22 page)

    
Wynn lowered her eyes, her protest dying in her mouth, Arabella was right of course, every moment she had used her magic was borne from extreme emotion and called upon instinctively, she did not know if she could control it consciously.

    
“I understand,” she whispered.

    
Arabella smiled softly and Wynn could not help a tug of jealously that the action caused Arabella's face to become even more beautiful, “I am not judging you Wynn, you are not of age and by all accounts should not even be worrying about magic. We will try a simple exercise of control.”

    
Arabella ordered Wynn to take a deep breath and feel the magic inside her. The request confused Wynn, how could she feel it
more
? It was already a part of her, ingrained into every inch of her being, she thought about asking Arabella but she had her eyes closed and was concentrating very hard on nothing in particular. She would not help Wynn with this. Wynn too closed her eyes and emptied her mind, suddenly a flash of gold danced across her eyes and she snapped them open. Nothing had changed. Slowly she closed her eyes again and emptied her mind, again it happened but Wynn was ready, she embraced the darkness and suddenly her body was alive with gold fire, it burnt most fiercely and brightly in the middle, the centre of her magic.

    
“Good,” she heard Arabella say, as though from a distance, she was mesmerised by the gold flames, they swivelled and twirled like smoke, and ran up and down ever part of her being, “see how much a part of you it is? Now I want you to encourage the magic to group in the centre.”

    
Wynn almost lost the hold of her magic at Arabella's request, but held it tight for truly it was the most beautiful and wild thing she had ever seen. She wondered how to make her magic move, and puzzled over it for a long time, before thinking with sudden clarity, it is my magic, I command it. She ordered it to obey her and slowly the fiery smoke danced its way through her body until it reached the golden glow in the centre of her being. It burnt brighter than the sun and Wynn had to resist the urge to touch it and draw from it, it was more tempting this way.

    
“Now open your eyes,” Arabella commanded, her voice was sharp as she sensed Wynn's intentions. Wynn opened her eyes and viewed Arabella's stern face. “What you have done is localised your magic, so that it is not so easily accessed. It is the state most favoured by beginners. To reach your magic you must tap into the pool and hopefully that split second longer will be enough to allow you to think your actions through. But come, we have spoken of many things and the day passes, there is something else that we can practise safely.
Control will take time; if you practise every day releasing your magic in a safe way you will soon be able to use your magic as easily as breathing. I did not know the extent of your power and control and I am happy that as long as you practise every day control will come easily to you. You need to learn to fight, magic cannot be your only weapon, and this is where I am most apt.”

    
Arabella jumped up and towered suddenly over Wynn, her red skirts swaying from the motion. Wynn got up more slowly, less elegantly, unsure what was coming. She knew Arabella was fierce and skilled and wished she had some practise with defence. She could distract a drunk man, and twist from his grip, deter his petting but when it came to anything physical she was as defenceless as a child. Arabella's face was painted with a smirk and Wynn could not help the shiver that passed through her.

    
“Strike me,” Arabella commanded.

    
Wynn stared at her, bewildered, controlling the urge to laugh, it was almost as infeasible as going up against Aerona, only of course it was nothing like that, but to Wynn the odds of her winning were just the same. She shook her head and closed her eyes, refusing to strike Arabella, not even wanting to try. Arabella darted forward, her footsteps silent and punched Wynn around the face. Wynn choked, somewhere between a gasp and a sob and clutched her cheek, her eyes snapping open to look accusingly at Arabella.

    
“That was nothing,” Arabella snapped, walking back to face her, “I hardly touched you. Think on this, you do not get a second chance in combat, you take every opportunity that is presented, the enemy will not be kind because you are a female, this will only entice them more to use you then discard you when you are broken. They will overpower you the moment you show weakness, the battle may look impossible but you cannot give up before you have even begun.”

    
Wynn nodded at Arabella's words but they did not sink in. She stood there awkwardly and noticed a second too late as Arabella rolled her eyes and lunged for her again, throwing her leg up and catching her on the side of her skull. Wynn withered to the ground in pain, her world blurring. She was aware of Arabella hovering over her but could not find the will to care. Her head pounded and she was adamant she would not rise from the floor. She did not want any more pain but Arabella was pulling her up and standing her on her feet.

    
“Hold yourself up child.”

    
Wynn bristled at the term, meant as an insult, she was not a child and it was not her fault she was malnourished, weak and inexperienced in defence. She caught herself suddenly, making excuses and knew Arabella was listening. Her face was stern and her body tight - with what? Irritation or disappointment, it was clear Arabella frowned upon Wynn's attempts to justify her failings. Wynn closed her eyes and took a breath. She would not win but she would try.

    
Wynn wondered how to start, Arabella's reactions were faster than lightning and she had no hope of catching her unawares either with her thoughts or reactions. Her only hope was something Arabella was not expecting. A memory flashed before her eyes, of a soldier back in Woodstone attacking her. It was a cheap trick; one that Arabella would have thought Wynn incapable of knowing or doing. Wynn decided in that split second and charged at Arabella, ducking luckily under her swinging arm and heading behind her. Wynn grabbed her shoulder whilst simultaneously wrapping her other arm around Arabella's neck forcing her head backwards as the pressure increased. Arabella was confused at first but instantly began to scream as Wynn's pinched fingers on her shoulder caused her body to shudder with pain and Wynn's other arm made it hard to breathe. Arabella slowly began to fall to the ground, completely at Wynn's mercy.

    
Wynn let go when Arabella began to pass out and stepped back from her, shocked it had worked. The memory of the attack flashed again in her head. The man had been a soldier, newly transferred to Woodstone. He had not known the rule that Wynn was the Master's. He cornered her on the night the Master held his celebrations, waiting until everyone was either too drunk to notice or passed out on the floor. He ambled over to Wynn, intoxicated and stupid. Wynn knew the warning signs and headed for the door, but the man was quicker. He grabbed her arm and tugged her back, spinning her so her back was to him. From there he pinched the muscle between her shoulder and neck and Wynn was suddenly in agony. With his other hand he wrapped it around her neck, ensuring his thumb found the hollow groove in her throat, near her collar bone. Wynn's body shuddered in pain and her breathing became shallow.

    
“It's going to be a fun night,” the man had breathed in her ear and Wynn could only cry out in pain. The man walked her towards the door, still holding her shoulder and throat and kicked the door open when he reached it. His breath stank of ale and Wynn suppressed gag. She wondered idly where he would take her. She did not have to wonder for long as the door swung open she spotted Cook leaving the kitchen, she turned her head at the commotion and her mouth opened in shock. Digging in her apron she unearthed an object, Wynn could not see in the gloom of the night. Cook marched over to them.

    
“Move woman,” the man ordered, his voice shook with alcohol.

    
“Release her now,” Cook demanded, her voice wobbling with rage.

    
The man smirked and was completely unprepared for Cook as she swung the object in her hand and smashed it against his head. His grip relaxed on Wynn and then abated all together as he crumpled to the floor. Wynn held her throat with shaking hands then looked at Cook. She was holding a broken wooden spoon.

    
Wynn could not help but smile at the memory, but she was jolted to the present as Arabella pulled herself to her feet, her face a picture of shock. Wynn's smile faded and she wondered suddenly how Arabella would react. Would she hurt her or be impressed? Arabella's emotions were subdued and Wynn could glean nothing from them, she stepped back, afraid.

    
“Where did you learn that?” Arabella said, her voice was hoarse.

    
Wynn swallowed and remembered the memory again. Arabella's eyes glanced down as she watched it and realisation dawned.

 
   
“I see your past has allowed you to learn things others would never have a need to know; I must admit I am impressed. They are other ways of incapacitating an opponent and they are more available to use than just pressure points.”

    
Wynn nodded and felt herself relax, Arabella was not mad, if anything she was impressed. She took a step back and moved to sit down when Arabella jumped forward, her hands striking so that Wynn was doubled over in pain before she could even comprehend what had happened. Arabella was quicker than anyone Wynn had ever met and this was a fight she could not win, not even with her knowledge of the two tender points, she would have to get close enough to Arabella to even begin to think of using them and that was not going to happen. She screamed something incoherent and the attack stopped. Arabella stepped back wiping Wynn’s blood from her knuckles. Wynn lay on her ground, her hair over her face, blood seeping from her nose, mouth and eyebrow. Arabella knelt next to Wynn and offered her a rag to wipe her nose with. Wynn took it angrily.

    
“What was that for?” Wynn tried to hiss but her lip was split and it hurt to talk.

    
“For the fun of it,” Arabella said and Wynn did not have the energy to decide if she was teasing her or not, “you were too confident about besting me. It will not happen again and I doubt you will have a chance to use it in a real fight.”

    
Wynn laid her head against the rough wooden floor and tried to block out Arabella’s voice. She hurt beyond words and now had more wounds to add to her face. A long thin scar, split lip and eyebrow. She must look a pretty sight. Arabella clicked her tongue and grabbed Wynn’s arm, pulling her up.

    
“Go and rest, I will heal your face when you are sleeping.”

    
Wynn allowed Arabella to lead her to the bed and ease her down. Wynn closed her eyes, sleep crawling towards her, blacking out her senses. The world went silent as her breathing fell into rhythm.

**

*

Griffin, Theodore and Braelyn returned six hours later, two swords each sheathed on their belts, and a bow and case of arrows strapped to their backs. Griffin also had two curved daggers attached to his belt, meant for Arabella. They smiled triumphantly as they laid down their weapons; they looked threatening against the old wooden floor, sharper, and more deadly. A few minutes later Jareth and Rueben entered the cottage, each holding a pack filled with clothes. They too set the packs on the ground and with the weapons the traveller’s future was set.

    
They let Wynn sleep on, her eyes twitching as she dreamt. The cottage was silent; peacefulness had descended over the travellers as they each chose a sword and began inspecting it and cleaning it. They had all decided, without speaking of it aloud, that if their destiny was to die, then they would die fighting. Their life had been a constant struggle and if aiding Wynn, in whatever future awaited her would save them and the lands, then they would fight with everything they had. Their fate was tied inexplicably with Wynn’s, success or failure they would stand by her.

    
Theodore watched over them, his experience as a blacksmith’s apprentice proving invaluable, he told them the best way to sharpen the blade and how to clean their sword to ensure it stayed in prime condition.

    
“My daggers?” Arabella said brusquely from the kitchen.

    
“Here,” Griffin said, picking the daggers up and throwing them at Arabella; she caught each dagger, nodded thanks, then walked into the kitchen to inspect them. They were not to replace the ones she had already, they were to add to her collection, over the years she had accumulated a wide variety of weapons but she had always returned to her daggers. In each boot she had a dagger and strapped to each thigh under her dress. The daggers Griffin had bought for her were throwing daggers and she wondered where to house them.

    
Back in the sitting room Griffin took the leather bags from the floor, opening them to reveal bundles of clothes and leather boots. They were nondescript but very well made; he knew Jareth had picked these.

    
“I understand that you didn’t buy these,” he asked Rueben sarcastically. Rueben shrugged, and sat stiffly on the floor. His eyes were still badly bruised from the beating the travellers had inflicted on him for betraying them, his nose had healed crooked, a reminder of his disloyalty. Griffin sighed, glancing quickly at Jareth who shrugged back, and lifted the clothes out, sorting them into piles. Braelyn tip toed over to Wynn and noticed a small but thick black book tucked safely into the pocket of her apron. Carefully she eased it out and placed it into the leather bag Rueben had found for them and flung it over her body.

    
Griffin then began to hand out the clothes, each person receiving a pair of brown cotton breeches, a white tunic, a thin jerkin and leather boots. The travellers all eyed the clothes with ambivalence, but it was Arabella’s face which went hard with distain.

    
“This is a joke, right?” Arabella said as she held the clothes away from her in disgust, “You want me to wear this?”

    
“We have to remain inconspicuous, your dress is far too bold, we will be recognised,” Griffin retorted, his eyebrows raised as though challenging Arabella to object.

    
Arabella ran her hands over her dress; the soft cotton material was kind against her skin, she had had it for as long as she could remember, it was the dress she had run away in and – using a mixture of magic and careful washing – had survived all this time. Destroying it was like destroying a part of herself. She grabbed the daggers and stabbed them into the floor angrily, she knew Griffin was right but she would never admit it. It was she who was the spy and she knew new clothes meant a new identity; it galled her that she had to be convinced when she should be instructing the others. Arabella turned around and quickly changed out of her dress and into the clothes Griffin had provided for her. The others did the same, their old clothes thrown onto the fire to destroy them. Thick smoke billowed from the fire and up the chimney. The cottage was silent; the journey was now suddenly real.

    
“NO!” Wynn suddenly screamed from the bed beside them, tumbling from the covers and onto the floor. The travellers spun to look at her; she was clawing at the floor in a bid to escape from an invisible foe, her nails screeching against the floor. Braelyn ran forward and gently shook Wynn until she woke. The traveller’s fears flooded into Wynn and she felt choked, the air was thin and smelt and tasted of smoke. Her eyes were concentrated somewhere else and when she looked around the room it was not the travellers she saw, but something... something coming.

    
“Wynn! What’s wrong?” Braelyn urged.

    
“Evil,” Wynn babbled, “its close I can feel it, we have to leave, we have to leave. Are you listening? Now!” She continued to weep, clawing at the floor, her nails wearing quickly. Braelyn sat with her, uttering reassurances whilst the travellers quickly gathered their weapons together and stood waiting for instructions.

    
Wynn suddenly opened her eyes and stood up, the hold gone. “We have to leave,” she said slowly, “something is coming, something you have never faced before, I felt it this morning but – but did not understand. We must leave.”

    
Wynn felt Griffin’s unspoken questions – and Arabella’s sudden understanding as she too felt the malevolent force – but he nodded and led them out of the cottage and into the silence of the deserted streets; they walked hurriedly, their heads down. Wynn marvelled at the travellers trust in her, it warmed her heart but also chilled her, such devotion was daunting. What if she was wrong? But then she knew Arabella had felt it too and was wholly supporting the plan to leave.

    
Wynn noted that night had begun its weary journey through the sky, the azure colour being drained and replaced with a pink and golden glow. Wynn could feel the emotions of the travellers around her, confusion, fear. She had thought herself almost used to the strange part of her that experienced others emotions, urges and thoughts, but now her stomach lurched as her brain tried to understand every emotion that was not hers. It was more than the traveller’s emotions, they had grown familiar to her, what turned her stomach was the strange and overwhelming feeling that was clawing itself into her conscious. An unnatural, creeping sensation that seemed familiar and yet so alien that bile rose in her throat.

    
The whole town was completely deserted and silence reigned save the clatter of their boots on the cobbles. The houses were all black, their faces blank in the twilight. They seemed oppressive to Wynn, as though leaning inwards, threatening to crush them. The air seemed damp too, as though peppered with rain but it was now too dark to see if storm clouds danced above them. The day had turned to night within minutes and Wynn did not need the gift to know it was unnatural. The deserted streets scared her. Even the army were not patrolling the alleys and the conscious of the populace seemed muted to her senses. Something terrifying was happening.
 

    
In the distance a mountainous range was visible, black against the
roseate
sky, one that the travellers had not noticed. Wynn wondered at them, but her concentration was broken completely when Jareth cried out. He pointed at the shadows in between of the cottages and Wynn saw them with a dread akin to being punching in the stomach. They walked like drunken men – limbs flailing and dragging along the cobbles – but the skin from their bones hung and flapped as they walked making it clear these were not mortal, living men. Eyeballs hung from black eye sockets, teeth rotted and lips split in two. They were the dead and yet lived.

    
Shadows stretched far across the streets, black monsters against the pale grey of the roads. The travellers ran, criss-crossing through the cottages, avoiding the grasping hands of the unknown creatures. The terror they felt almost completely incapacitated Wynn, and Arabella, experienced in the gift was too almost paralysed. It was only strength of will that kept them running, for their terror was just as avid as that of which they felt. Wynn had never felt more feared in her life. When the army had seduced her, that was nothing. When she had been beaten, countless times to within an inch of her life, that was nothing. When she realised that her dream was real, and magic was alive in her veins that too had been nothing. This, running for her life against a foe which was already dead, felt like her heart would explode, her breathing came shallowly and far too fast and she knew if she stopped she would simply die of fear.

    
The town began to slope upwards and they found themselves running towards the Lord’s Manor. It too was deserted. On they ran. Wynn understood the confusing feelings suddenly, how the creatures had felt familiar and yet alien. They had once been human and had died, and yet they were here, alive. She tasted black and evil magic on the air.

    
The cottages suddenly stopped and nothing was left but cobbles beneath their feet and the unending blindness of night. The moon seemed to overlook them, instead offering a silvery path for the endless creatures pursuing them, the work undoubtedly of magic. The creatures crawled behind them, some falling with the effect of rot, which had wracked its way through their bones. They were silent with determination; the running figures of the travellers their target. They did not fall with fatigue for they had no heart to tire, and were unaware of the sudden chill of the night. They brought with them a familiar feeling of disgust and fear, but Wynn could not place where she had seen them before, surely she would remember such a nightmarish sight?

    
“Keep running,” Griffin shrieked over the sound of their running footsteps, noting that they all had slowed with exhaustion, “they should tire!”

    
Arabella shook her head as she ran, her lungs were constricted with lack of air, but she managed to scream, “They will never stop, they are not alive and so cannot die, their will is not their own. Aerona is controlling them with unimaginable power.”

    
Her words echoed around the night, chilling the travellers far more than the icy winds. The army they could fight, but the un-dead would never stop. The ground beneath the travellers suddenly changed from the smooth cobbles of the town to harsh jagged rocks. At any other time, the pain from the rocks slicing their feet and ankles would have incapacitated them, but at this moment the fear of death was far greater than the pain, the terror that had instilled itself inside them urged them onwards. The night air grabbed at them, with invisible hands, but still they ran, feeling the cold emptiness of Aerona’s magic on their skin. The terrain around them had become severe; they could not see ahead of them but knew the land had changed.

    
Before of them the moon lit the mountains. They stretched wider and higher than the eye could see. Mount Ingot, separating Kingly from its neighbouring town Cratewood. Storm clouds circled its peaks, and the moon silhouetted it against the darkness of the night.

    
“Head to the mountains,” Griffin cried, tears pouring down his face from exhaustion and pain. Blood gushed from the travellers open wounds, leaving a glittering trail of scarlet over the stones, illuminated by the moonlight. The creatures were on their trail, the smell of blood enticing them further. Many had fallen onto the rocks, but the number did not diminish. The ones impaled simply pulled themselves free, the travellers the sole thought in their decaying mind.

    
Kingly had been left behind as soon as the travellers thin leather boots had touched the jagged rocks, this land was unknown, adventurers perished in their determination to climb and conquer the mountains. The rocks reached right up to their base.

    
“We have to climb them, there is no other way around it,” Arabella gasped, her voice carrying with the unnatural wind. They night grew darker with every step they took, the inhuman cries of the creatures behind them chilling their souls. Wynn agreed wholeheartedly but the mountains were still far in the distance, and she could not help think that it would be days before they reached them. Arabella eyed the mountain range again, ignoring the pounding of running feet and calculated the distance. Wynn felt Arabella’s stomach sink and knew she had realised.