When the words of the book had stilled she ate the food Taien had left her, suddenly hungry. Once her belly was full she got up, picked up some spare clothes from the chair and made her way to the bottom floor bathhouse, one of many she was sure but one that she had already begun to think of as hers. She knocked and found it was empty so she entered and bolted the door shut.
Satisfied she undressed, dropping her clothes in the corner of the room. She then filled the bath with the pump and buckets as she had before; heating it with magic once it was full and sunk into the water. She let her mind wander, the water lapping up to her chin. She closed her eyes and relaxed.
“Where is she? She is not in her room?”
“Probably in the bathhouse.”
Wynn straightened in the bath, water flowing over the edge and onto the floor at the movement. What had she just heard? It was a conversation, a mental conversation between two students... and they had been talking about her, they had not said her name but they had thought of her face in their mind as they spoke. She had never heard a mental conversation before from others, and wondered what it meant. These students were either so strong their magic projected out, or so weak they could not limit their conversation to just themselves. Whatever it was Wynn found herself checking the door, it was still locked but only with a simple bolt. She tried to relax but her heart was thumping, she began to clean herself hurriedly with the soap, sensing that time was of the essence.
Just as she had finished rinsing her hair the door shook in its hinges. Wynn jumped and caused more water to splash all over the floor. She stepped out of the bath carefully but a loud crash caused her to slip and she hit her head on the corner of the bath before falling to the floor. Her vision blurred as the door sprung open and seven figures entered the room. She knew she was naked but her eyes would not focus and her head was pounding.
“Look, just as I told you, her kind are always whores!” A boy called out maliciously. Wynn waved her hand and her clothes flew over to her. She held them up to her body to cover herself as the boys smiled at her cruelly. She involuntarily stepped back from their expressions. As her mind raced she was interrupted by a warm trickle down her back that was not water. She sent magic to her head and found it had cracked open when she had hit it against the bath and was dribbling blood rapidly. Unbeknownst by the boys she fixed the wound hurriedly and badly, slowly her eyes focused on who had entered the room. Seven boys, students, she recognised some from those who had been duelling in the courtyard and one as John, the boy that had tried to seduce Arabella yesterday. They sneered at her now. In a panic she waved her hand, willing her magic at them and the boys were flung from the room into the corridor as if a wall of air had hit them. Wynn took advantage and quickly dressed before running barefoot past the heap of boys. She was not quick enough. One grabbed her ankle and she fell face first onto the stone floor. Darkness grasped at her and she fainted.
Wynn woke somewhere cold. The wind nipped at her through her clothes and wafted around her face like ghostly fingers. She opened her eyes and saw the Seminary sat a little in the distance, seeming more vast and frightening in the darkness of night, now she was vulnerable. She tried to stand but she was bound tightly to the trunk of a tree. Leaves and sticks poked at her legs from the ground and she shifted to find a more comfortable position to think. The night sky offered little light; the moon was faint through the canopy. Wynn sent her senses carefully out and found the same boys who had ambushed her waiting for her to react. Their emotions were easy to read and they washed over her like water.
She studied them for a moment. It seemed the technique all the professors had used of hiding their emotions was not passed to the students. They were all excited, most slightly confused at what exactly they were doing. Inexperienced was the general consensus, they had experience of magic but not the same experience Wynn had, born out of fighting for her life. These students would be easy to deal with.
Wynn focused on her binds; she sent her magic into the rope and began to unravel it. It fell apart easily and she stood up stiffly, stretching. The boys did not notice until she stepped away from the tree, her bare feet standing on twigs and stones. They stood up simultaneously a grin upon their faces, she was unsure what they hoped to achieve, their thoughts were focused only on her, and their emotions were excited. She willed them to come and they did all at once. They ran at her and Wynn did a silent prayer that Arabella and Wolf’s training would be enough.
She dodged the first boys lunge and jumped over the second’s kick. Wynn threw a punch and smirked as it connected. She grabbed the hand of the third boy and forced his thumb back, a torture trick that was simple but effective, and forced him to his knees just in time for him to absorb a kick. She felt blows connect with the boys, and felt her body twitch as she too took hits. She could not do it; she was not as fast as Arabella and still malnourished and weak. She tried to calm herself and think of Wolf’s technique but the blows were raining on her and she could not think.
Desperately she curled into a ball and went deep into her pool of magic, when she had called it she sent it out like a wall and forced all of the boys off her. They went flying in all directions, landing a few feet away. She stood quickly and held her arms out, palms facing outwards and with her magic stilled them. They glared at her, unable to move. Their thoughts came thick and fast now and she gritted her teeth against them.
“Strong in magic but weak in technique and body,” one thought.
“She lasted longer than expected,” another mused.
Wynn expected these kinds of thoughts, but she was drawn to one boy, who could be none other than John, he was furious with her for beating him. He was viewing her like an object, her limbs, her breasts and she felt her anger rise. She walked over to him and he smirked at her, thinking of taking her and violating her.
“It is men like you that make me sick,” she hissed. The other boys stared at her from their position; all was silent in the forest, “I am glad Arabella frightened you.”
“She did not frighten me,” John thought, he could talk no other way for Wynn had paralysed them all, and knew Wynn would hear him inside his head, “she just made me more determined to have someone. I am not picky; you looked like someone that would not put up a fight.”
Bile rose in Wynn’s throat, she had come across men like this so often that it had coloured her view of men in general. She had discovered not all men acted this way and treated women so badly, this however was the first time she had a man like this at her mercy.
“Would it surprise you that I have killed?” Wynn’s voice was soft. John’s eyebrows raised but he thought nothing. “I killed the man that tried to violate me,” Wynn continued.
Slowly Wynn knelt down so she was face to face with the boy; she lifted her palm to him, not touching him, but close to his chest and sent her magic into him. She found his windpipe and forced it slowly to close. Fear was wild in the boy’s eyes, but Wynn carried on until he was struggling to breathe. She knew what it was like to be strangled almost to death, the helplessness, the terror, everything this boy’s victims had felt. The boys around them were shocked and worried, would this girl kill him?
Wynn waited until she could feel his life ebbing before letting go of his windpipe. He gasped at the air, tears falling from his face, relief his only thought and feeling. Wynn stepped back and watched the boy struggle to regain his breath. It was not enough, he deserved so much more punishment, but she was tired and her head was beginning to throb, she had not healed it properly and the fighting seemed to have opened it again. This was confirmed when the flow of hot blood ran down the back of her neck. Wynn began walking back towards the Seminary when a sound to her left caught her attention. She spun around, spotting Nethali a few feet away from her, her palm raised.
“What is happening?” Wynn called to her, “why are you all doing this?”
“If you win all will be explained,” Nethali said softly. She began to walk towards Wynn. Wynn back
ed away; she was too tired to even consider fighting, her limbs ached and after having very little sleep the night before due to her nightmare she was in no fit state to battle, not to mention her wound spilling blood.
“You’re tired?” Nethali said sternly, feeling Wynn’s fatigue and pain, “Will Aerona allow you a rest?”
Realisation suddenly dawned on Wynn. This was a test. Nethali did not believe she was the Foreseen. Did she really believe it? It had been forced upon her since the beginning, and she had followed because she had no option. Now she thought about it, really thought about it, was she strong enough to defeat Aerona? The Seer’s could have been wrong, they predicted it centuries ago, it was an easy mistake that she had happened to look like the girl it portrayed. If she wasn’t the Foreseen however, who was? Who would defeat Aerona and get revenge for all those who had died? Even if I am not who they claim I will still fight for all those I love, I will not be beaten, she thought suddenly, forcefully.
At this Nethali sent her magic out, it was weak but enough to unbalance Wynn. Wynn straightened up and sent her magic to her head, closing it up hurriedly, then went into her power and flung it at Nethali, who did not flinch. Wynn frowned. I must not be so arrogant; Nethali is far stronger than she appears.
“You are weak,” Nethali mocked, walking forward. Wynn thought back to her fights with Wolf and her people. It was not always brute force that won a battle; it was cunning, things that the opponent would not expect. Nethali would expect her to fling all of her magic at her; instead she must use a combination of magic and combat to surprise her. Wynn felt her trousers, she had no weapon, whereas Nethali had unsheathed a sword from a scabbard worn around her waist and was holding it up to the moonlight. Wynn almost wanted to scream at the unfairness of the situation but she knew that Aerona would not be merciful; she would fight corruptly, using every trick she knew.
Wynn walked towards Nethali until they were feet apart, facing each other. Nethali bowed and Wynn did likewise. Quickly Wynn thought back to her training with Wolf and thought of a sunset and with all of her mind willed her body to become peaceful, to feel so small and insignificant next to the wildness of nature. She felt her heart slow and her breathing became unhurried, she felt more connected with her own body than ever before. She could do it, now she was not being attacked by seven people at once. She raised her hand, palm out, the traditional pose a Mage or Magus took before a fight, a warning and invitation.
“So it begins,” she whispered. Nethali smiled crookedly then charged at Wynn. The sound of twigs snapping underfoot overwhelmed Wynn’s senses. Time as it was had not slowed, but Wynn’s reactions had become far quicker, her mind worked at a different speed to Nethali’s and she therefore had more time to think. She crouched quickly then swung her foot along the ground and kicked Nethali’s feet from beneath her when she reached her. Nethali hit the ground hard, still clutching the sword, but was instantly back on her feet. She swung the sword and its tip caught Wynn’s nose. It cut it along the bridge and blood dribbled down her face. Wynn put her finger to it gently and saw the blood glinting in the moonlight. She scowled.
Nethali dropped her sword and raised her palm to Wynn. A shot of fire erupted from it, Wynn dodged but it caught her shoulder burning through her thin shirt and scorching her skin. She cried out and inspected the wound. It was bleeding and bubbling. She quickly healed it, roughly, and spun around shooting magic out at Nethali in no particular form, she did not have time for such things. It caught her in the stomach and she doubled over, wheezing. Wynn rushed forward and kicked her in the face, catching Nethali under the chin and sending her flying into the undergrowth, her sword falling from her grasp. Blood began pouring from a new cut under Nethali’s chin, down her neck and onto her clothes. Wynn rushed forward and grabbed her by the throat and held her against a tree, ignoring the blood which poured onto her hand.
“Go on then, kill me,” Nethali shrieked.
Wynn’s eyes widened in surprise, “No.”
“Then you are weak,” Nethali snapped, her teeth bared in a growl.
Wynn smiled knowingly, “Mercy does not equal weakness.”
Nethali spat at the ground, “Then you shall let Aerona live?”
“No,” Wynn replied angrily, “She will die slowly.”
“Then prove yourself.”
“Not on you,” Wynn said sternly and dropped her to the floor and walked away. Nethali called out to her, shouting obscenities but Wynn ignored her. She would not kill anyone to prove her worth. She climbed back over the portcullis, not bothering to find another way into the castle, forced the castle door open with magic and walked quickly through the corridors. She ignored the odd looks she gained from the other students. She was filthy, cut, sweating. Her hair was sticking up in all directions and twigs had found a way into the curls.
With difficulty she blocked out everything, she did not want to feel their curiosity or how they mocked her, she wished to float in a sea of silence, with no one judging her, but no matter how hard she tried she could not free herself from the connection. She grew more irritated the more people she encountered.
“Wynn!” A voice called. She ignored it; she did not have time for anyone. She had been tricked, kidnapped and forced to fight someone she had wanted to respect. The voice called again but she carried on walking to her room, a scowl upon her face. A hand grabbed at her then, unexpectedly and she spun around angrily. It was Taien.
“What happened to you?” He asked urgently, noting her cut and bleeding nose, her burnt shoulder, as well as the other minor scratches and bruises that littered her arms, neck and face.
“Nethali tested me.”
“Tested you?”
She looked at him, did he not know? He was a servant so he possibly was not told of the magical affairs that happened within the Seminary. She opened her mouth to explain but decided against it, she had not the energy “I have to go,” she said distractedly and ran to her room.
Wynn woke with a start and could not figure out why. She glanced out of the window above her bed noting that it was still dark outside. She had evidently not slept long. She stretched, remembering she was still cut and dirty; exhaustion had called to her after she had made it back into the castle and she had obeyed it, not even bothering to undress. Now she felt too uncomfortable to fall back to sleep. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she stood shakily up and sent her senses out to the whole of the castle. A few servants were up, but the rest slept soundly. Satisfied she was safe she crept to the bathhouse, the stone floor cold on her bare feet. The moonlight that crept through the crumbling walls and windows was the only light. As she walked she glanced out of the windows, viewing the massive courtyard where she knew that all the students practised their combat. When she reached the bathhouse she locked the door and windows as tightly as she could and filled the bath, finding spare clothes and a cloth to dry herself with from the cupboards. The moonlight lit the room with its silvery glow.
She sunk into the bath and inspected her shoulder. She remembered Nethali’s attack and watched it again in her mind. The fire had burnt her skin and Wynn knew if she had not moved quickly enough the flames would have found her face instead. The warm water caused the burn to throb and she healed it, fixing the underlying muscle, veins and nerves before repairing the skin. She did the same with her head, fusing the skull back together. The cut on her nose had quickly scabbed over and so she left it and sunk deeper into the warmth of the bath.
After a while of sitting still she lifted her arm, opened her fist and watched the water flow over her hand and down her arm and eventually – when most of the water had drained off – it drop from her fingers to plop delicately back into the bath. Her thoughts at first only centred on the water, and how beautiful it was under the kiss of the moonlight. But the more she thought the more her mind led to her memories. The painful ones and the happy ones, moments she had laughed, however fleeting gave her strength, all the times she had felt the indescribable bond
of friendship from Braelyn, and now of Arabella and Wolf. She thought of Byron, her brother. Her only living family. Where was he? In The Rune? She could not know. Her skills at the moment only allowed her to know he was alive, by sensing his soul. I would know if he was dead then, she decided and pushed the thought out of her head.
She watched the moon, after her thoughts had calmed, for a while through the window. It was the most beautiful object of nature and as she watched it she longed to touch it. The hours of back breaking travelling that far surpassed in terms of difficulty the years of servitude at Oprend Manor, were more preferable to her because she was under the watchful gaze of the moon and in Arabella’s company; she could never replace the friendship they had.
Inevitably, once she had begun to ponder Arabella, Braelyn appeared in her mind. Had she found her father? Was she sitting upon the throne of Terra ordering servants around right this moment? Wynn chuckled to herself, Braelyn was too mild and meek to order anyone around, she would politely ask, if it was not too much trouble, for something. Wynn had known since their first meeting that she was important. She had an air of grace around her, more than her noble looks and polite ways, an air of unfound certainty that once harnessed would be exactly what Terra needed. She wished Braelyn was with her now, she had always found it hard to make friends and yet she had instantly bonded with Braelyn, Wolf, and even Arabella... eventually.
“They want me to prove I am strong,” Wynn whispered to herself, thinking back to how Nethali and Irik had regarded her initially. Was she strong? She knew she had the magic inside her but she did not know to harness it. It bubbled inside her, locked away by her ignorance. She felt everyone’s expectations pressing on her until she sunk lower in the bath and closed her eyes, allowing the water to envelop her. As she held her breath an old folk song she had heard the wives of Woodstone sing many years ago sounded in her mind.
Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) Page 39
