“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 backed 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.
“Dance to its lullaby,
Sing to its song.
Forget what brought you here,
Know you are strong.
Twilight is upon us,
And the stars shine.
So stay for a while
Here you are mine.
The moon shines down
An angel in disguise,
In its silver rays you may drown,
Death in paradise.”
She flung her head of out the bath, gasping for air. She felt invigorated; the combination of the song and the water felt as though it was washing her troubles away. And yet something irritated her, nagged at her like an itch she could not scratch. She saw in her mind her magic, how she had seen it crossing the plains between Herth and Berhandril, the golden essence mixing with something black and inky and alien. What did it mean? And why did she sometimes, erratically and inexplicably, feel herself growing angry and depressed? In those moments it was as though she was not herself, like a red mist had descended over her eyes and mind and rage was all she could think about. Wynn thought about what Wolf had said “‘
you fear the dark inside you but there cannot be darkness without light, you cannot distinguish between them without the other to show you. Do you fear the night because it is dark? No you fear the night because it blinds your eyes and dulls your senses, but how can we be sure that the darkness is truly evil without a light to shine through it?’
” But this darkness did not feel born inside her, it felt wrong and frightening.
Wynn lay in the bath for hours, contemplating what the blackness that was combining with her magic could be, but could find no answer. Eventually she gave up, realising she was dwelling on something that had had no effect on her other than a brief lapse in mood. Pushing it from her mind she relaxed slightly. Eventually, when the bath had grown cold, Wynn got out and dried herself with the cloth. She dressed and walked down the corridor and into her room. There sat the book, untouched on the floor. She had forgotten about it. She picked it up and set it on her bed. Now she needed to learn how to read to know what it said. She placed her hand on the book but nothing happened. Laughing, wondering what she had expected, she closed the book and set it back on the floor, then crawled back into bed.
Wynn woke to the sound of birds singing outside. It was a pleasant way to wake and she found herself smiling despite the thoughts that had plagued her the night before. She got out of bed, still dressed and walked out into the corridor. It was deserted but to be sure she searched for a few moments through the corridors and still found no one. She wondered at the silence, where were all the students? Eventually she was drawn to the Great Hall for all the thoughts and emotions seemed centred there. She knocked on the door once she had reached it and it swung open.
Inside stood Irik and Nethali, and behind them all the students of Berhandril, numbering over three hundred. They stopped what they had been doing and lowered their heads humbly, some twitching as though to bow as she entered. She waited to feel sick at the number of turbulent emotions in the room, but instead they washed over her calmly, none screaming for attention, she found she could focus quite easily on the situation at hand. She scoped the room and spotted Arabella leaning against the wall, apart from the crowd, watching their reactions to her friend with amusement.
“What is going on?” Wynn questioned seriously, folding her arms. Arabella smiled softly at her, communicating that she was not going to be attacked... yet. Wynn wished to talk privately with her and almost sent out her magic to communicate mentally, but Irik had stepped forward, his arms open to show he meant no harm.
“I would like to apologise Wynn,” he said solemnly, “for my student’s behaviour, for Nethali’s and for mine. I did not know of their intentions and would have prevented what happened if I had. It seems you have not had the best introduction to our way of life.”
Wynn smiled sarcastically, not bothering to hide her newfound distain for the Magus and Mages here at the Seminary, as well as the students and their whole way of life, she and turned her gaze to Nethali, “Are you disappointed in me?”
Nethali smiled wryly, “You are strong but you were not tested enough. It was arrogant of me to assume I could defeat you. I can only apologise for my behaviour, and for the students who attacked you and kidnapped you. It was wrong, but you must understand that I had to be sure. You are claiming to be the Foreseen, who will lead us against Aerona and I wanted to see with my own eyes how strong you are.”
“That was nothing of my true power,” Wynn said darkly and was pleased when Nethali’s eyes widened and she nodded respectfully. Wynn felt suddenly and inexplicably angry, she was sure the students and professors felt it, but did not care, how dare they doubt her? She eyed the students, a thrill of pleasure running through her when they could not hold her gaze, or when their emotions became suddenly terrified. They are right to fear me, Wynn thought.
“Would you consent to a test that you knew of and understood?” Irik said slowly, afraid of upsetting her further but excited that they might have a definitive way to prove if she really was the Foreseen.
Wynn smiled dryly, “I accept your challenge on the basis that Arabella fights alongside me,” she glanced over to Arabella, who nodded her head, “and that you explain anything I wish answered.”
Irik smiled and agreed, “Tonight, magic and combat, you and Arabella against our most experienced students. Then we can begin your lessons.”
Wynn nodded and left without excusing herself. Arabella smiled at her friend’s newfound confidence.