Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) (36 page)

    
It mattered not, when Wynn spotted the inn she almost cried for joy and all worry for the villagers evaporated. She was tired and caked in dirt. She had not washed for almost three weeks and the thought of a bath was almost too much to comprehend. Arabella led the way, winding between horses and carts until they stopped outside the inn. It was a pleasant place, with flowers growing on a window box and ivy crawling up the bricks. The owner came bursting out and welcomed them in. He was a portly man with thinning hair, but with a smile of such gentility that Wynn could not help but trust him.

   
 
“Welcome my ladies,” he said loudly, bowing dramatically. Wynn snorted in disbelief at the man. My lady? Unperturbed the man flashed them a smile, indicated for them to enter, and gestured around the inn.

    
“Through that door is the dining and lounging room, and through there the kitchens,” he gestured to the stairs, “I will show you to your room.”

    
Wynn opened her mouth to explain they had no money, but Arabella shot her a violent glance and Wynn bowed her head and followed the man up the stairs. They would be sharing a room; two small single beds were placed awkwardly at either side of the room. A small round table with two rickety chairs sat in the corner. Arabella nodded expressionlessly at the room, the man instead watched Wynn who was eyeing the room with mild amazement. It was so much larger than her room back at Oprend Manor.

    
Out of the corner of her eye she inspected the man; she could feel his happiness at their arrival, but nothing else. He was round and his grey, thinning hair betrayed his age. As she looked at him, inside him she could see a small flame in her mind’s eye, it was more than seeing it was feeling as well.

    
“Dinner in the evening,” the man smiled, interrupting her thoughts, then bowed out of the room. Wynn sighed and almost collapsed onto the bed, the softness of the straw stuffed mattress made her body cry in protest at how badly she had been treating it. She closed her eyes, but forced them open, first a wash then food, then sleep... blissful sleep. Her thoughts of peace and relaxation were rudely awakened with her conscious; how were they going to pay?

    
“We have no money,” Wynn questioned Arabella who was sitting on one of the chairs looking out of the stain glass window, watching the villagers. She waved her hand to avoid the question, but Wynn could not let it go.

    
“I don’t understand, we cannot use this man and leave without paying if that is what you are suggesting. He needs the money.”

    
Arabella continued to stare out of the window, ignoring her. Wynn felt anger rising in her belly, she opened her mouth to continue arguing but Arabella turned to her.

    
“Did you see his smile?” She asked almost thoughtfully, Wynn nodded, of course she had, what did that have to do with anything?

    
“He is a sorcerer,” Arabella said before turning back to the window. A sorcerer, Wynn mused, that explained the flame she had seen burning inside him, clearly a sign of one with the gift. It still didn’t explain much. Arabella’s thoughts were pensive and her emotions controlled. She was giving nothing away.

    
“And?” Wynn prompted.

    
“He is a particular kind of sorcerer, a Charmer, he prays on those with a soft heart. After we have slept he will kill us and drink our blood... our powers instantly infusing with his. There are many like him in this world, it is just bad luck that the first town we stumble into homes one.”

    
Medea’s words rung in Wynn’s head, “
though of course there is no luck in this world; only fate
.” Yet Wynn could not see how meeting with this Charmer would benefit them, but who was she to argue with Lady Fate? His smile had been so genuine... but Wynn did not doubt what Arabella said. Arabella was unquestionably more knowledgeable of the world of magic; one Wynn had only been a part of for a few weeks.

    
“You have not mentioned Charmers before,” Wynn said, watching Arabella’s expression carefully.

    
Arabella sighed, “As I mentioned, there are no sections of magic, strength and skill are the only factors, but the people that use magic can be separated. Mage, Magus, the male and female variant, these are commonly thought to be good, though they are a broad description of any with the gift. Those who practise dark magic and use it to harm others are called Sorcerers, Sorceresses and Charmers. All the same save the fact a Charmer has the ability to grow stronger by drinking the blood of others.”
 

    
“The villagers?” Wynn asked, remembering the emotionless voids in the shape of people that she had passed on the way.

    
“He has drained them of their life, he is infinitely stronger than his physical appearance suggests. They still live, and yet it is a semblance of life, none would know the difference other than the person they once knew was cold and unfeeling.”

    
“They are alive and yet dead?” Wynn said slowly her blood running cold at the thought. Arabella nodded sadly, her eyes were wide with knowing but her thoughts and emotions still revealed nothing. Wynn knew she longed to be able to shield her emotions like Medea but they had had no time to ask and so Arabella had to make do all the years of practise she had with controlling her emotions.
 

    
“What are we to do?” Wynn asked after a few moments.

 
   
“We will wash, and change and eat, and then once night falls we will continue on. It is too dangerous to stay, though I long to sleep in a comfortable bed.”

    
Wynn nodded slowly, “How did you know what he was?”

    
Arabella’s face became blank and distant, a sad look flashed across her face and suddenly across her eyes Wynn witnessed the same memory she had seen back in Lumber Forest. Arabella kneeling on the ground, weeping, her arm outreached in the direction of a retreating figure. The pain that overwhelmed Wynn was a shock because she knew how hard Arabella was trying not to show anything, the memory must be particularly potent for it to slip through Arabella’s efforts. Wynn gulped, shook her head to rid herself of the memory and did not question Arabella anymore. Instead she walked to the only other door in the room and found a small but clean bathroom. She closed the door behind her and filled the steel bath, steam floating ghostlike around the room. In a small chest two pairs of breeches, jerkins and cotton shirts had been folded painstakingly for the next customers. Wynn peeled her clothes off and only then realised how dirty she had been, they were caked with sweat and dirt. Black in some places, blood splattered in others.

   
 
She shivered as her mind flickered back to Procel, Rueben and Theodore, the thoughts twisted at her mind and clawed at her heart, she felt herself slowly slump in defeat. She was falling and drowning emotionally, the pain that wracked her heart made her feel that sinking into the bath and never rising would be a fitting end. And yet as soon as she had though it she decided, with an iron determination, that she would not let those memories torture her now, she had the rest of her life to mourn and contemplate what had happened in the mountain. For now she would sit in the steaming hot bath and clean herself until her skin was raw.

Once Wynn and Arabella had washed and changed, each brushing their hair until it shined in the light, all dirt and knots painstakingly removed – Wynn had not had to brush her hair for long before it sprung back into her thick natural curls – they went down the stairs and into the dining and lounging room. Farmers and tradesmen sat huddled around tankards of ale gossiping, they raised their heads as Wynn and Arabella entered but quickly lost interest. Wynn and Arabella sat down at an empty table and waited for their dinner. The room was small and noisy. Warmth from the kitchen flooded into the room, there was scarce light, save from the thick white candles set on the tables, wax dripping down onto the wood. They sat at a table in the middle of the room, the furniture was made of a dark wood and the walls were stained brown. A huge stone fireplace sat to the left of them, surrounded by mismatched seats.

    
From the kitchen shouts echoed into the lounging room. Wynn listened dreamily, the sounds taking her back to her time at Oprend Manor. Was it only three weeks ago? Three weeks ago she saw no end to her servitude, only a bleak and heartbreaking future, now she was Free, to an extent. She was tied to the Foreseeing, and travelling across Herth to please Medea, but she slept when she was tired, ate when she was hungry and never had to curtsy to anyone again.
 

    
“Miss?”

    
Wynn jumped and saw a woman holding a plate of food before her; she had clearly been trying to gain her attention for some time. Arabella was eyeing Wynn with exasperation, her plate of food before her, cutlery in her hands.

    
“Oh! Sorry... thank you,” Wynn mumbled awkwardly, taking the plate and setting it before her. Chicken with potatoes and vegetables, she could feel her mouth watering at the prospect. At Oprend Manor she had survived on thin stew made from leftovers, and more recently unseasoned bird and rabbit, but this... Wynn smiled to herself and began to tuck in, manners completely forgotten; nothing mattered save her belly being full. Arabella was eating more slowly, watching everything around her. Wynn realised that she too should be paying attention, she sent her mind out and instantly felt interest from the men around her, it was not threatening so she moved on until she found the owner of the tavern. She felt disgust from him, for all those he served, and power. Arabella had been right about his magic, and his awareness of their powers. Was it so obvious to others of her magical abilities? If she could gauge it in others then it was quite possible that hers were just as readable. She almost slapped herself for her negligence, she had not bothered to read the owners emotions thoroughly, exhaustion more important. She ate and finished her meal in silence.

    
“Wynn!” Arabella hissed. Wynn shook her head and her eyes focused back to Arabella. She was jerking her head in the direction of their room. She stood up and followed Arabella, who locked the door of their room behind them with magic.

    
“We will sleep in turns for a few hours,” Arabella instructed her. Wynn nodded slowly and settled into bed to sleep for a few precious hours. She thought of the owner and his magic. Drinking the blood of other magicians, having had to survive on the less powerful blood of the villagers, no wonder he was so happy to see them. Wynn sighed and let sleep wash over her.

    
After a few hours Arabella woke her up and they swapped positions. Wynn knew that she had just over a month before she inherited her magic. The thought disturbed and excited her in equal measure. She would have the magic that made her the Foreseen, but with no knowledge of how to use it. Until now her magic was erratic, dangerous and yet extremely powerful, how would she cope when she had the full force of it flowing through her veins?
Could
she cope? So much depended on her, so many innocent lives that could be changed by her hands. She could bring peace, and end Aerona’s reign of terror, and that terrified her. Why did it have to be her? Would Arabella not be the perfect person to fulfil the Foreseeing? Already an assassin and clearly strong magically, why waste time on Wynn? Untrained and volatile. It was an odd mix to trust the Nations with. Gulping she settled down to keep watch for a few hours.

    
The time passed consistently and dully, Wynn expected the Charmer to burst into their room and challenge her, but nothing happened and she almost became complacent. She was glad when three hours had passed and it was time to wake Arabella. She was instantly awake at Wynn’s touch. They looked at each other silently, both mutually agreeing it was time to leave. Arabella instantly began raiding the drawers in the room, taking anything of use she could find. Silently, Wynn stood, her body protesting after such a gruelling journey and such a small amount of rest, she took her leather bag from beside the bed and stuffed it with spare clothes, and their weapons.

    
Wynn and Arabella tip toed down the stairs and into the kitchen. The inn was completely deserted and in the darkness the pleasant decorations and atmosphere was replaced with a creepy and unpleasant air. Wynn could not help but shudder. In the kitchen they found sweetmeats, dried fruits, fresh baked loaves of bread and hard cheese. Arabella took them all without hesitation, Wynn went to argue but she could see the logic, they needed the food to survive and the Charmer’s trade would not suffer much. After searching the cupboards they found two worn but usable travellers packs, they were satchel like, able to open and close by way of buckles and the straps were thick for comfort.

    
“This Charmer must travel on once every source of power has been dried up,” Arabella whispered, handing Wynn one. She took all the food they had found, the spare clothes and weapons and took them from the leather back and placed them into the packs. Finally she took the book and rebec with its bow out and stuffed them deep inside. Arabella too filled her bag with the stolen items. They left the leather bag; it had filled its purpose. They filed out of the back door and into the moonlit street their footsteps sounding unnaturally loud in the silent night.

    
They had not taken more than a few steps out of the door when the owner of the inn appeared before them. His smile was twisted and Wynn now knew if she ever saw a Charmer again she would kill them without mercy. He had stepped from the shadows, light footed and sly and he stood proudly, his hands on his hips, legs parted.

    
“Where are you going?” He asked, his voice smooth like honey. Wynn could feel her mouth twitch, and had the overwhelming urge to smile, it was like the smog back in Cratewood, choking and lulling. Beside her Arabella pinched her hard on the arm and she blinked in surprise as though waking from a dream. Only a few seconds had passed but she felt as though she had almost drowned, she clenched her mouth tight and the sensation completely disappeared.

    
“We are leaving,” Arabella said coldly, the moonlight fell down on the road like a waterfall, illuminating the cobbles and the small houses of the townspeople.

    
“You have something I want,” the man retorted.

    
“It is not yours to want,” Wynn hissed back, surprised by her anger.

    
The Charmer took a step forward and Wynn and Arabella raised their hands in warning. The man smiled and opened his arms as though to embrace them, instead a gust of air flew at the girls, blowing them roughly to the ground. Arabella was the first to scrabble to her feet, as the man stopped before them, his figure blocking out the silver light of the moon. She scowled and drew her dagger from her belt and with one smooth movement the blade was pressed dangerously close to the man’s throat.

    
“Move and I will slit your throat,” Arabella growled. Wynn saw her self control; she wanted nothing more to kill him where he stood, but she knew the implications. If someone walked out on them, threatening an apparently defenceless man, word would spread and Aerona’s spies would soon find their location. The man grabbed Arabella’s hand and forced her to cut him, shallowly, but enough to draw blood. Wynn slowly got to her feet and knew instantly that this man did not fear for his life, either suicidal or amazingly strong, both options were undesirable. Arabella pushed him away then raised her hand, palm facing him, and with no more effort than breathing he collapsed to the floor.

    
“What did you do?” Wynn asked as she watched Arabella wipe the man’s blood from her knife on his clothes, then sheathe it back on her belt.

    
“He will not remember who he is, or us, if he is questioned he will not be able to give any straight or coherent answers... at least as long as the magic holds.”

    
Wynn raised her eyebrows, “Surely they will probe his mind, and find that he has been made to forget?”

    
“By then we will be far from here,” Arabella said walking away from the unconscious body of the man without glancing back.