Wynn dreamt that night of her magic. In her dream she was standing alone in a grassy field, the sky a beautiful blue, yellow flowers dotting the land. She was waving her hand, as she would when using her magic, but whatever she wished to do would not happen, instead the flowers before her burst into flames. Wynn tried again, wishing for her magic to obey her, but again the fire raged, flaming close enough to scorch her skin. Wynn jumped back, frightened, holding her head in her hands as though to block the fire from her senses. Her dream self had no idea what was happening but subconsciously Wynn knew what the dream meant, deep inside her the meaning was obvious, at some point in the next few hours she would inherit her birthright of magic and if she did not control it, it would kill her and all those around her. She had not realised how fast time had gone, tomorrow was her birth-day, eighteen summers old. She felt older, like a lifetime had passed her instead of only eighteen summers. Was she ready to grow up and be a Magus? The thought swirled through her conscious, she had no choice, she had to be ready, had to control the magic that was coming because she knew the consequences if she was too weak.
Her dream then began to morph, uncontrollably, dark figures danced in front of her eyes, clawing at her sight, the beautiful field and sky transformed into a lifeless, burnt meadow. Darkness reigned and she tried to scream but she was locked fast in the nightmare. She felt herself tense in fear and tried to shield her eyes but whatever she did the figures danced near her, around her, frightening her with their darkness, threatening to hurt her.
Wynn’s heart began to beat faster. In her dream she clutched her chest, not realising she was imitating the action in real life. The burnt meadow spun uncertainly and Wynn could feel her body stiffen, as well as her dream self. She cried out both in real life and in her dream, but she could see nothing but darkness, choking her, swallowing her. She battled the dream, reasoning with herself, it was her dream was it not? Her mind created it, she could change it. But whatever she wished for the dream refused to transform. Wynn battled with her body and felt the sweat pour down her face. The dream morphed again until there was nothing but blackness, broken by the fire that was spreading through her veins, twisting her muscles and bones. Tears streamed from her closed eyes as she battled to keep control. The dream ended, but Wynn was still trapped in the darkness, and the excruciating burning of the magic in her veins. She grasped the ground, gouging the dirt with her fingers as she tried to grab onto something.
“Wynn,” a voice urged, Wynn recognised it as Arabella’s, she was gripping her hand and urging her to breath but Wynn could not concentrate enough to follow her instructions. All that mattered was the pain. She could feel her body convulsing as the fire raged inside her. It would be so easy to die now, she thought sadly, but Arabella presence meant she could not. She would not die because she was too weak to hold on, just that bit longer.
It felt as though hours had passed, sweat trickled down her face, her vision blurred and her mouth became so dry she was sure she had eaten sand. Her brain became confused between reality and her dreams; she saw flashes of Arabella’s worried face and the dark creatures that stalked her. Arabella stayed by her side, instructing her to breathe. Wynn fought the fire, it is only pain, she shrieked inside herself, you have dealt with much worse than pain, pain you can live through, pain you can cope with. And the flames raged against her skin, inside her so that body shivered and rose in a fever simultaneously. She could not see past this pain, but she had to hold on, she accepted the pain, acknowledged it was coming and it lessened. She was not fighting the pain but unleashing its full force, letting it dance through her. The fire carried on burning.
Arabella gripped Wynn’s hand and watched her body shudder and convulse with pain. Had she looked like this when her magic came to her? It was horrific to watch and her head swam with Wynn’s pain and her screamed thoughts. Nothing but the pain, Wynn was aware of nothing else. Arabella’s heart hammered in her chest, if Wynn let go of the pain, and surrendered her control, there was nothing Arabella could do to save them. Wynn would die, and Arabella almost instantly, but those around her would suffer as Wynn suffered.
“Hold on,” Arabella urged and she thought Wynn’s face relaxed slightly. The night stretched on and the heat in Wynn’s body turned from burning, raging to a simmer. Slowly it began to ease and the fire in her veins ceased and her heart beat slowly once more. Wynn awoke fully, her body shaking with fatigue. Wynn looked blearily around the tent and saw Arabella leaning over her, gratitude flooded from her and she was glad then that Arabella would be able to feel just how grateful she was. Arabella smiled and fetched a cup of water. Wynn drank it greedily, not caring that it dribbled down her chin and onto the tent floor.
Silence stretched between them, the enormity of what had occurred was too hard to talk about. Wynn now had the power to destroy Aerona, but she now had become vulnerable to magical and physical attack, the charm her mother had placed on her necklace broken. Wynn instinctively reached up and touched the golden necklace; at her touch it became cold. Wynn had not realised how warm and comforting it had once been.
Arabella brushed Wynn’s sweat drenched hair from her face, kissed her on the forehead before leaving the tent. Wynn felt a cold breeze dance through the tent and her skin tingled as it brushed her sweat drenched skin. She sighed as the breeze cooled her down and then she was fast asleep.
9
Wynn woke to a hand slapping her face gently but urgently. She jumped up, instantly defensive and saw Wolf crouched over her, indicating for her to rise. Wynn released the breath she had been holding and with Wolf’s help rose, still fully dressed and walked out of the tent she had been given the previous night. The morning light was harsh against her eyes and she spent a few minutes yawning and rubbing her face, looking around the camp as she did so. Russet and amber leaves covered the ground and crackled when stepped on. The foliage of the forest was in all shades of brown. The blue sky could be seen through the gaps in the canopy. People walked decisively though the camp, entering burgundy tents. A fire was set up a few meters away, waiting to be lit.
“I see you are much use in the morning,” Wolf said sarcastically when Wynn had finished. Wynn smiled embarrassedly and tried to seem fully awake. In truth she was more exhausted than she had ever been; what had happened last night had taken its toll on her body. She hoped Wolf did not notice. Wolf turned then and took a pile of clothes from a man, who had appeared and walked away silently. Wynn did not wonder after his silence because Wolf had handed the clothes to her, smiling wryly.
“Why do I need new clothes?” Wynn asked.
Wolf smiled wryly, “I feel it is good to have movement when fighting, a skirt allows freedom.”
“You are more exposed,” Wynn interjected.
“A good fighter is never struck,” Wolf retaliated, smiling ironically.
Wynn laughed then and went inside her tent and changed into the clothes. They were exactly the same as Wolf’s but the material was bright green, apparently to match her eyes. She put it on without thinking, unsure why she needed them exactly, she could not believe Wolf expected her to fight after what had occurred, for she surely felt Wynn’s newfound gift as keenly as Wynn felt it in Wolf. Outside Wolf was thinking nothing but happy thoughts, her emotions calm like a river. Wynn felt like a tornado compared to Wolf’s relaxed nature. Gathering her courage Wynn exited her tent and Wolf smiled at her appearance.
“You look every inch a Manti.”
“A Manti?”
“The name for my people,” Wolf explained. Wynn nodded dumbly and allowed herself to be led through the tents and into a small open space to the east of the camp, not entirely sure what was happening. Arabella was already there dressed in an outfit of blue. It complimented her dark skin and hair and Wynn could not help a small flare of jealousy. It disappeared as quickly as it came and she hoped Arabella had not noticed it, Arabella’s wry smile told a different story.
“You will fight my most experienced men,” Wolf commanded suddenly, and signalled into the trees. Five men stepped from the darkness and into view. Each was topless and covered in the permanent marks. Wynn had heard Wolf call them tattoos. Amongst them were the two men that had accompanied Wolf in the first meeting. Wolf pointed at them and they stopped in front of Wynn and Arabella.
“No magic,” Wolf said, and this seemed to be the only rule.
A stranger gave all of the fighters two daggers and then disappeared back into the camp. Wolf indicated to Kylun and he began circling Arabella. Wynn and Hora moved out of the way and stood with Wolf, along with the three other bare-chested men.
Wynn could feel all of Arabella’s conflicting emotions, happiness at the combat and fear at the thought of losing. She had a look of utmost concentration on her face, this was Arabella’s passion. The art of combat, the thrill of the fight, here at this moment, Arabella was in her element and she was not about to lose. It was Wynn who jumped when Kylun rushed forward; brandishing his daggers, Arabella of course was not surprised, she was focusing entirely on Kylun and anticipating his every move and so spun elegantly out of the way, leaves flying in the air in the process. Wynn could not help once again feeling jealous at how graceful Arabella looked. Her long dark hair flew in the breeze, and the outfit she had been given showed off her slim limbs flatteringly.
Kylun and Arabella were suddenly locked in a vicious battle. Each had their honour and reputation to uphold. Sparks flew as their daggers clashed. Each spun and dodged the others attack expertly, the fighting so vicious that Wynn began to fear for her own battle. She could not fight and until now had relied on magic. This would be completely different.
A shout brought Wynn back to the battle. Kylun had managed to strike Arabella across the thigh; it was a shallow cut and had bled only a little but it was a cut nonetheless and it had made Arabella angry; it dominated her every thought. She parried the daggers and thrust them towards Kylun, forcing him to move quicker than Wynn had ever seen, he ducked and dodged and flung himself away from the blades, but Arabella was quicker and managed to slice his arm. The wound bubbled with blood and Kylun’s face turned black with rage. He twisted the knives in his grip and spun on the spot, his arm flying, hoping to get a clean shot at Arabella’s temple.
Arabella anticipated it, as Wynn knew she would, and ducked, throwing her leg out as she did so catching the back of Kylun’s leg. He buckled and tumbled forward, losing his balance. To any other person, it only lasted a few seconds and would have meant nothing to the fight, but Arabella was his enemy and she took advantage. She thrust her knee upwards, catching his chin as he struggled to balance, and hit him hard on the side of his head with the heel of her palm. He fell to the ground like a dead weight, leaves fluttering in the air.
“Finished,” Wolf shouted and Arabella stepped away from him. Wolf walked over to check on him, he breathed and would only suffer from a headache. She motioned at him and two men carried him away.
“After lunch, it will be your turn,” Wolf said, turning to Wynn. She gulped and nodded; her stomach tight with fear.
The lunch Wynn had eaten an hour ago sat like lead in her stomach. Hora had not kept his eyes off of her while they ate. He was intrigued primarily at the stark difference between her and his tribe’s women. Appearance wise they looked the same, but Wynn was sure she looked especially vulnerable. The tribeswoman all carried weapons and Wynn knew they knew how to use them. Wynn ate slowly, irritated that he was assessing her weaknesses. You have many to pick from, Wynn laughed morbidly to herself. Desperately Wynn ran through the simple forms of combat Arabella had taught her on their way through the forest, to block an attack and dodge a weapon, yet Wynn had still not mastered
taking
a weapon from an enemy and it felt decidedly foolish to go up against Wolf’s best trained fighters without the rudimentary skills of combat.
Yet it was happening, despite Wynn’s assurances she was not able. Wolf’s emotions were fluid like the wind and Wynn knew that Wolf heard her verbal and mental disputes, but Wolf had passed it off as humbleness. Wynn had no idea how she would last against a fighter and now as they made their way out to the fighting area and it seemed the whole tribe had stopped work to witness their fight; Wynn’s reputation of being the Foreseen was working against her now. She gulped fear down and stood to face her opponent. She held two daggers, one in each hand, as did Hora. His weapons looked like extensions of himself, whilst she looked like a clumsy child, experimenting with danger.
He bowed to her and she did likewise. Magic was forbidden, but she could not help the thoughts and emotions that radiated from him, it was her job to try and ignore them. This fight relied on gut instinct and she did not want to disappoint Arabella and Wolf by cheating. Hora threw a dagger in the air and caught it by its point. He is showing off, Wynn thought bitterly, taunting me. The lessons Arabella had taught her as they walked ran through her mind again, she might be able to disarm him, but they were not using sticks, they were using daggers. Wynn gritted her teeth in fear; the fact that she never did manage to take Arabella’s stick from her in their practises pressed upon her like an itch she could not scratch.
“Begin,” Wolf said. Wynn heard it blearily, she was focusing intently on Hora, on his movements, which way he was leaning, she was good at that. Her years at Oprend Manor had made it easy to read body language, when a man was joking, adjusting his weight for better balance and preparing to fight, when to leave them well alone and when was safe to speak. Hora was relaxed, his shoulders low and his limbs loose. He had not bothered to raise his hands in defence, or shift his weight in case Wynn reacted quickly. She knew she should be offended, but he was right not to fear her.
He smiled then, seeing her fear. Wynn clenched her teeth and moved closer to him, her daggers hard and cold in her grip. He did not move. Wynn moved closer still and wondered how to start; she was not angry and could not act on impulse. It did not matter, Hora moved then, so quickly she missed it and was close enough to touch her, he swung his arm and Wynn managed to step hesitantly back so that his blade just brushed her nose. She felt it slice like a line of fire, and felt the warm blood trickle down her face. She wanted to lift her finger to touch it, but Hora was slicing the air again and she did not want another wound. She ducked and stuck her foot out, hoping to trip him.
Hora stepped over it easily and smiled as his blade nicked at Wynn’s shoulder. More warm blood dribbled. Wynn could not win, she knew it but she took her advantage of being lower down and hit his hand with the heel of her palm, the move that had disarmed Arabella a few days ago. Hora’s hand opened unwillingly and his knife flew from his grasp. He scowled and increased his attack with his one dagger. He was furious and his hands and blade fast. Wynn succumbed to them, receiving cut after cut until she lost her balance and he forced her to the floor. He pressed his dagger to her throat and she looked up at him coldly.
“Done,” Wolf said. Wynn jumped, she had forgotten Wolf was there and the tribe. They were watching her, their emotions ambivalent, they crowded on her now she was free of the fight and she took a breath to steady herself. Hora lifted his dagger from her throat and offered his hand; Wynn took it, her lips tight. He bowed and motioned for the rest of the tribe to get back to work. Wynn felt his happiness as he walked away and felt herself blushing.
Wolf smiled, “You should not be embarrassed; you did well. I can help you with your combat. It is why I offered you and Arabella places with my tribe, combat is essential, and here we have the knowledge to train you. But of course Arabella is also skilled; together I am sure you will become fearsome.”
“Thank you,” Wynn said gratefully as Wolf motioned that she was excused. None commented on her defeat, at least aloud, the thoughts she heard were not complimentary but she had expected it. None dismissed her completely however, so there was hope at least for respect to grow. Wynn wished Wolf had never made the connection that she and Arabella were travelling in order to fulfil the Foreseeing. Was it so readily known or did Wolf piece the information together from rumours and hearsay? Anyone could make the connection if Wynn and Arabella were not careful. Wynn hoped that now they had entered the forest and would hopefully be in the protection of the Seminary soon, none would be able to follow them and remember the Foreseeing.
Why did Wolf accept Wynn’s defeat with good humour? Did the Foreseeing not demand a certain person to shoulder it? Why did no one doubt Wynn as much as she doubted herself? Her short comings were painfully obvious, her inability to defend herself or attack others without instead coming to harm; her malnourished frame and sickly exterior, her lack of confidence and grasp of magic. Lady Fate was playing a colossal joke and the Nations would pay for her twisted sense of humour. Wynn ran back to her tent to avoid the stares from Wolf’s people.