“Ahh, a Bordin Boar,” Medea gazed past Wynn as though recalling a memory, “they were peaceful, before Aerona corrupted them with her magic. Living on the outskirts of towns feeding on deer and such, but when Aerona was finished with them they became bolder and ventured into civilisation, feasting on the flesh of humans. Empowered by magic they could still an entire village whilst they consumed their fill. It seems unfortunately bad luck to have been attacked by one, very few exist anymore. Though of course there is no luck in this world; only fate.”
“So in my travels I may probably see the Fallen and Bordin Boars, anything else I should look out for?”
Medea chuckled, “Why you make it all sound so
dangerous
my child. Yes, two of the risks that stalk you, I am unsure what you may face but trusting my sight I would be wary of the Hybrids.
It has the body of a
lion
and the head and wings of an
eagle
. Even rarer than the Bordin Boars yet their population has almost doubled since Aerona’s arrival. And that is not even mentioning the scores of human enemies you have made, just by living.”
Wynn felt her hands begin to shake and gripped the hilt of the Dagger of Night to still them. It was easy to pretend she was not afraid, when surrounded by those who could not sense her emotions or hear her thoughts. Medea would not be fooled, yet Wynn knew Medea did not think less of her; her eyes were full of pity and her smile almost sad.
“Come child, you have many enemies to face; this is why I will heal the scar on your face, as it now has become common knowledge that Lord Oprend marked you. It may be a trifle unnecessary, but it may help all the same.” Medea ran her finger along the scar and a tingling sensation danced across Wynn’s cheek. Tentatively Wynn raised her finger to the scar; nothing remained of the tight puckered texture which had been so unsightly, now it was just her skin. Unmarked.
“Thank you,” Wynn whispered. Medea would never have known the extent of Wynn’s gratitude had her emotions not screamed them out. To be unmarked was like being reborn. No more would Wynn suffer the humiliation and aggravation of having any reminder of the Master on her body. She was truly free.
“The sooner you reach Berhandril the better,” Medea said, avoiding mentioning Wynn’s emotions, instead she waved her hand in the direction of the travellers, “I thank you for waiting,” Medea called to them and they left the corner of the room and stood again with Wynn.
The air tasted of candle smoke and the stale stench of Medea’s many collections; her animal skins, dust covered clothes and assorted jars filled with body parts. Wynn swallowed and took Braelyn’s hand in her own; preparing herself to part with the only person in the world she loved. Griffin and Jareth smiled at the other travellers, intent to show they were not feared of the journey ahead, but Arabella and Wynn saw through their worries. Braelyn was not just a maid anymore, she was the Princess.
“Your arrival only signifies the dire state that the lands are in,” Medea now addressed them all, “I know now that each of you is crucial to bring peace to the lands, if not for your own efforts for your combined efforts with others. Braelyn must go to Cairon; your father is... not as he once was. I believe the lands will accept you as their ruler. It will not be easy though my child, I tell you this to prepare you. Ones path is very rarely straight and I see many crossroads and diversions in yours.”
Braelyn nodded seriously but she did not dwell on Medea’s macabre words, Wynn felt her longing to see her father override all emotions. It was all consuming and she was glad Braelyn had some part of her family left; she wanted nothing but happiness for Braelyn. Yet what did Medea mean of Braelyn’s path? Medea had twice refused to answer Wynn’s questions about the welfare of her friends, was there a code of some kind which prevented her knowing, or was it simply that Medea did not wish to worry her?
“Griffin and Jareth, I believe you should accompany her...” Medea continued and Wynn too felt them agree, the weight of protecting Braelyn heavy on their shoulders. The room had become tense, separation marking the beginning of the final battle.
“I shall move you partly there, for you will not be able to pass through Inlo unquestioned,” Medea said soberly, “I do this because time is of the essence,” she turned to Wynn, “you have moved before Wynn?”
“Twice, completely unintentionally; we were in danger each time and I acted instinctively, calling my magic... Arabella warned be about it though, I understand the risk it poses while my magic is not yet whole.”
Medea looked from Wynn to Arabella, her eyes knowing. Wynn swallowed hard, unsure once again how to feel. Medea invoked such different emotions in Wynn that she could not decide if she loved or feared the old woman.
“She is right; it is dangerous for you to use your magic for such a complex and draining action. There are also many macabre tales attached to moving, debatable, but I do believe there is some truth in them, somewhere. Until you have fully mastered your magic I do not advise you try moving again.”
Wynn nodded quickly. She had never thought moving was dangerous, possibly it could prove fatal if she used too much energy but Medea was hinting at something darker attached to the action. Yet Medea did not divulge the information which would shine a light upon Wynn’s worries. Truly the High Priestess, Wynn thought sardonically, at liberty to share the information, if she so wishes. And Medea did not wish to it seemed.
“Go now children,” Medea spoke to Griffin, Jareth and Braelyn, “be safe and be strong. It was a pleasure to meet you Your Majesty,” Medea bowed her head, surprising Braelyn into silence.
Wynn laughed, “There will be a lot more of that to come when you inherit the crown. I will miss you my friends.”
None said goodbye. Goodbye meant a farewell and that, Wynn forced herself to think, is not what their journey was. Until we meet again, she thought sadly to herself. Would she ever see Braelyn again? Medea waved her hand and suddenly they were gone, transported far across the lands. Wynn swallowed painfully and forced the tears from her eyes, she could not allow herself to wallow in worry and fear when so much apparently rested upon her shoulders. Medea reacted to Wynn’s thoughts.
“You must leave and head for Berhandril. I have little to give you...” she began to rummage in her piles of bits and bobs. Emerging holding a small golden circlet, a single diamond dangling from it, this she handed delicately to Arabella who took it with a look of confusion.
“This,” Medea said softly, “Is the circlet of The Seer.”
Arabella nodded softly, “I thank you for this gift, but I am no great Seer.”
“No... but your mother was.”
Arabella’s face remained blank, but Wynn could feel her heart beat faster and her stomach clench, and feel her push down the emotions that were bubbling near the surface; sadness, love and fear. “My mother was murdered,” Arabella said impassively, her voice steady.
“Your mother was kidnapped seventeen summers ago; she is a prisoner in The Rune. She is alive and as well as one can be in such a place.”
Arabella gasped, then, suddenly, to Wynn’s extreme surprise, Arabella burst into tears, seventeen summers of hurt flooded out. It was a rare insight into Arabella’s turmoil. Her surface emotions, ones which Wynn had felt since they first met, never before hinted to how much pain Arabella really was in. It occurred to Wynn then that Arabella too was an orphan, save her grandmother who had been estranged from and now was thought dead; she had suffered most of her life thinking her mother was dead. Now there was hope of seeing her mother again and that was a miracle in Arabella’s eyes.
“This circlet is a copy of the circlet she used to wear when she Saw. The diamond enhances your magic... I think in these troubled times it is appropriate,” Medea said softly, pointedly avoiding discussing Arabella’s outburst.
Arabella nodded and took the circlet with a trembling hand. Wynn smiled impassively; she had not forgotten the coldness Arabella had bestowed on her that first meeting. Was she supposed to be happy that Arabella had a chance to see her mother again? Or jealous? Both emotions lingered and would not be ignored.
“For this journey a heavy heart will be one of great burden,” Medea said wisely to Wynn, “it is in the past.”
Wynn nodded and reluctantly pushed her feelings of hurt from her heart and thought to the journey ahead. Throughout their travels since that night in Woodstone’s square, when they had been betrayed by Rueben – Wynn’s heart beat a little quicker as she thought of him – they had travelled vast distances in short spaces of time. She had felt exhaustion grasp at her bones but she knew now, with a dread that felt like a lead ball in her stomach, that it would be nothing compared to the journey ahead. She had travelled large distances with magic, but Medea had made it clear that it was too dangerous to attempt such a thing again. She was untaught and the amount of magic it took to carry souls safely across such a distance could be fatal. No, she would need to be strong mentally and physically to reach their destination.
Medea turned to Wynn and from the folds of her clothes she drew a small wooden rebec –
a bowed,
stringed,
musical instrument
. It had a
narrow, boat
-shaped body and three strings.
“I know of your voice, and how it bewitches,” Medea began, Wynn nodded and thought back to the night she had sung at Oprend’s Manor, “your voice is different to that of Arabella’s, Gypsy magic is all about deception, the thrill of being stronger than your opponent, you have a different magic and therefore your voice has different qualities. It can heal, and banish the dark.”
Wynn nodded her head and took the rebec, storing it in the leather bag. Medea then handed her the book, and Wynn too stowed it away in the leather bag. They turned to leave, Arabella ahead when Medea suddenly grabbed Wynn’s arm.
“There is something...” Medea mumbled, gazing at Wynn intently. Wynn shifted under her gaze. Medea was extremely agitated but seemed unable to express her worries.
“Something about you vexes me,” Medea said, her eyes boring into Wynn. After a moment Medea released her grip, shook her head and waved them away. Awkwardly they left The Widow’s house and crossed back over the swamp and stood on the inlet of trees. Neither said a word about what had occurred, each too stunned by what they had heard and the journey that now lay ahead. Medea watched them go, her face cast in shadow. She recalled the Foreseeing, but only three lines called to her now; ‘
snow white of skin, eyes like emeralds, hair as black as night
’. Medea watched Wynn and Arabella traverse back over the swamp and enter the forest before looking to the night sky. She would not forget Wynn's eyes, the most beautiful colour she had ever seen, the shade of emerald, the shade of destiny.