Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) (15 page)

    
The travellers stared at Wynn. She pointedly avoided their gaze; she did not need to see their expression to know what they were feeling, and concentrated on a leaf that lay in front of her. It was too much to take in, she wasn’t a saviour, someone to bow down to, she was a maid, a
murderer
. Everywhere she went death followed; her mother had been killed because someone long ago foresaw that a woman with emerald eyes and black hair would save them all. Wynn had been born for this Foreseeing and her mother had died for it. She felt even more hollow, as though any peace she had had was now gone. Her life seemed to be crushing her with its despair.

    
It was the last piece of the puzzle, what more did Wynn need to accept that her dream was not in fact fantasy but the true events of That Night? It was the night the army took control, the night her mother was murdered and the night Wynn’s destiny had been revealed. She had dreamt of it for nearly eighteen summers, thanks to Aerona’s magic.
The forest was seemed colder to Wynn and fire had long since stopped warming her. In her eyes the world was wrong and broken, backward. Beside her Braelyn twitched uncomfortably, drawing Wynn back to the present, Braelyn, the only person other than Cook to have shown her true kindness, was emanating confusion and fear. Wynn lowered her eyes, it was too much, her only friend was distancing herself because of what she was, what was believed of her. Her eyes filled with tears and they fell down her face uncontrollably, she couldn’t stop, she could feel the travellers staring at her but she didn’t care, her grief at her lost life was unutterable.

    
An errant thought flitted through Arabella’s head and Wynn’s eyes snapped up angrily to look at her.

    
“Pull myself together?” Wynn hissed.

    
Arabella smiled apologetically, “It was just a thought, I meant nothing by it, I realise you have suffered and thought you would have hardened against the world but you still seem vulnerable.”

    
“I am what I am, do not expect anything from me, once you have suffered as I have then you tell me how to feel,” Wynn snapped back.

    
Arabella scowled at Wynn. Her cool exterior broken by Wynn’s continuous fearlessness of her, no one was this relaxed or defiant around her and yet Wynn continued to offend her with her ease. Arabella unsheathed her dagger and held it up to the light, inspecting it. The canopy of the forest rustled in the wind and the fire crackled as silence stretched between them.

    
“How did you get that wound?” Arabella taunted, “Did you not know your place, maid?”

    
Wynn clenched her hands, her knuckles cracked with the strain and her nails dug into her palm; she could feel them pierce her skin as warm drops of blood flowed across her palm.

    
“Well? Answer me maid,” Arabella sneered. Wynn leapt up in anger and waved her hand how she had before she killed the Master. The fire rose through the air as though it was being channelled through a tunnel and flew towards Arabella. Arabella batted it away with her hand, yawning. Wynn could feel the anger inside herself, building until a dark mist ascended before her eyes and the empty void was full of nothing but rage. She launched herself at Arabella, magic forgotten. Arabella shrieked in shock and fell tumbling into the dirt and leaves with Wynn on top of her. Griffin jumped up and yelled at them to stop but Wynn didn’t care, she took out all of her anger, all of the wrong that had been done to her in her life, on this arrogant Gypsy who had judged her before she knew her. The world was empty save the hurt she could inflict on Arabella.

    
Suddenly Wynn was lifted from Arabella’s screaming body and thrown onto the undergrowth.

    
“What are you doing?” Griffin yelled, Wynn lowered her eyes and waited for more abuse but found it didn’t come. She looked up and Griffin was holding Arabella by the arm, shaking her.

    
“Why are you provoking her? Are you so pathetically insecure you have to belittle the first person that shows a hint of matching your power?”

    
Arabella threw his arm off, “She just attacked me!”

    
Griffin rubbed his eyes, fatigue creeping over him. Rueben had not taken his eyes off of Arabella during the fight; he went over to her and comforted her, then led her to the stream where she could wash her face. With Arabella gone Griffin helped Wynn up.

    
“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Griffin said simply, sitting back down round the fire. Theodore nodded to Jareth and they took Braelyn off to help look for food, leaving Griffin and Wynn to stare at the fire silently.

    
Wynn wanted to shout and scream at Griffin, she didn’t need to explain herself to anyone, but the void of anger inside her was slowly being filled again with her own sadness and the need to tell someone everything, and for them to know the real her.

    
“I’m not a bad person,” Wynn said eventually, “have you ever been pushed, farther than you ever thought you could go until the world is wrong and dark and nothing can make you well again?”

    
Griffin looked at her but did not answer, he didn’t have to, his sudden and overwhelming feeling of pity told Wynn that he was not mad at her and that he only wanted to understand. Wynn took a deep breath and told her tale. She spoke until the fire burned low and offered no heat and only a little light. Griffin listened intently, silently and when she was finished he knew he did not need magic to see that Wynn believed she was broken, that she felt she was alone in the world and that nothing would ever be beautiful again. He moved over to where she was sitting and hugged her; she was surprised at the contact but rested her head on his shoulder. They sat like that for some time in silence, both comforted by the contact. Wynn knew she had made both a friend and ally.

Woodstone slept silently under a clear, cloudless sky. A blanket of frost enveloped every cottage so completely that icicles hung from the rooftops and the forest seemed to be made of diamonds. In Lumber forest the travellers were huddled together discussing their plans in hushed tones. They had split up, after Arabella and Wynn’s confrontation, Wynn, Griffin, Braelyn and Theodore staying by the camp, Ruben, Jareth and Arabella at the edge of the forest, scouting.

    
It was routine, this scouting, though Griffin was normally present instead of Jareth and the person that accompanied Arabella always changed. Griffin had stayed behind with Wynn and Braelyn to cook their remaining leftovers and protect them. Jareth was in his place and the strain was evident. Arabella stood with her back to Rueben and Jareth, staring at the sleeping town. Her expression was blank and arms folded; she stood as still as the trees that surrounded them. Her face was littered with minor scratches and Arabella’s jaw tightened as she thought of Wynn back at the camp. She had never been caught off guard before but there was something so vulnerable about Wynn that she had never suspected such a rage and violence could smoulder inside her frail frame. The breeze was bitter and she clasped her cloak around her, suppressing her anger, it would not help her now. Now she needed to concentrate; behind her she could hear Rueben and Jareth hissing an argument and she focused back onto the present.

    
“This is foolish,” Rueben almost shouted, “heading into the very town that these maids were running from and the very town that holds Lord Oprend, the man that has ordered our
deaths
.”
 

    
Jareth’s eyebrows furrowed in anger, Arabella felt it keenly, anger that Rueben was questioning him, questioning Griffin. “Yes I see that Rueben, do you think I am blind to the situation? Do not belittle me, I know what I am asking of you but it is only you two that have the skills, in the other towns, the other places, stealth and quick hands did not matter so much but we are in the heart of Inlo now, under the lion’s nose. You and Arabella can do this.”

    
Jareth’s words cut through the silence and Arabella was glad that Griffin had sent him in his place. Griffin was a brilliant leader and inspired them every day, but Jareth had the patience of wise man and dealt with Rueben with tolerance. Griffin would send a well placed smack to the back of Rueben’s head for the way he spoke, not that Arabella minded, sometimes a thump here and there was the only way to keep these men in line, but for now she needed Rueben to co-operate.
 

    
“This is still foolish,” Rueben mumbled again, digging his shoe into the crystals of ice on the muddy ground. Jareth rolled his eyes at Arabella and she could not hide the smirk that grew upon her face.

    
“Yes, you may be right,” he sighed, “but it is this or we starve, it will be quick, take Arabella with you and she will protect you.”

    
Rueben raised his eyebrow, he doubted he needed Arabella’s help, but did not comment, knowing it was a fight he would not win. Arabella’s lip curled at Rueben’s sarcastic expression and she gritted her teeth whilst she waited for Rueben to concede to their plan. Sighing he eventually nodded and together they walked towards the edge of the forest leaving Jareth to keep a watch of the town and act as a messenger between the two groups.

    
Arabella took a deep breath, the cold night air sharp in her chest. She felt its caress on her face and bare skin, so cold it was impossible to feel tired. This was what she was good at, these trips into towns to steal supplies had become routine to her, for months she had made the journeys and never had any trouble. It did not matter where they were or what they were stealing, but now they were in Woodstone, the heart of Inlo and the most dangerous place to try their luck at stealing supplies. It was the first time they had attempted it and she did not know how to feel about the new addition of Rueben. He had accompanied her only once before, many months ago in a quiet town. He had been obedient then, and grateful for life. It would be nice to not to have to worry about approaching soldiers whilst breaking into the houses, Arabella conceded to herself, but she only knew of Rueben what she felt from him. His urges and emotions, and so far this night and in the last few months they had been nothing but arrogant. She felt his presence next to her, standing silently as he scoped the sleeping town.

    
She cast a quick glance at him, his mop of blonde hair fell messily around his face and he blew it out of his eyes every so often, his face was that of a young man, the childish roundness gone from his features. He was handsome; deceptively so, but Arabella knew he was weak willed. He had been warned countless times of what her kind did to men who were weak, and still she could sense his misguided interest in her as keenly as if it were her own. It was faint, the same intensity that all men had when they viewed her. She considered her beauty a weapon and was not vain, she knew by the standards of men and the tired women they saw everyday she was beautiful, it was something that came hand in hand with her Gypsy heritage, uncontrollable. Rueben’s interest would have to be monitored. Scowling at the night sky and deciding the addition to the trip was an unwelcome one, Arabella quickly darted from shadow to shadow down the long winding path, not bothering to check if Rueben was following her, until she reached the first cottage.

    
It was on the very outer ridge of the town; behind it stretched the fields for growing crops, and marked the beginning of the winding streets. Leaning against the wall, ear pressed to the stone, Arabella listened intently for movement, using the emotions that radiated from inside to determine if the people were asleep. Rueben joined her a few minutes later, trying discreetly to regain his breath after racing after her. For a moment there was no sound until she shook her head and they moved on to the next house, their footsteps echoing around the night. Rueben did not know how Arabella knew if someone was moving inside each cottage, but it was clear to anyone that Arabella was something more, her Gypsy heritage obvious in the way she walked, ran, the way she skulked from shadow to shadow, silently as the wind. He followed behind her obediently, waiting to strike. The moonlight bathed the cobbles, pointing a silvery, snaking path.

    
This was the second raid Rueben had helped in, the first a small town to the west of Inlo, he had proven to them the night they found him that he was uncannily skilled with his hands. He had unlocked the door of a tavern and stolen a keg of mead, all without being seen or caught. As they ran from cottage to cottage, Arabella unhappy with each one, he thought of that night and chuckled softly to himself. Thievery was something he had detested at first, his parents had abhorred it and throughout his childhood scolded his quick fingers, but after their death the years passed and stealing saved his life on many occasion. It had also gotten him into trouble; it was a beating from a disgruntled tavern owner that had left him dying on the side of the road, to be found by the travellers... now it was time for him to prove himself again. Arabella was present to dispose of any soldiers or unintentional passersby, something he never had in his past, he did not know how he felt about being protected by a woman.

    
Arabella ignored the flux of emotions and urges from Rueben, they were uninteresting to her and only showed he was not committed to this trip, he knew it was his chance to prove himself but only wished to for the glory that success would bring. She had to bite her lip to ignore his last thought about being protected by a woman, he was distracting to her and she disliked his presence on such a dangerous trip, she felt exposed without the cover of the forest and Rueben’s childish internal ramblings did not help. Arabella’s fingers danced over the hilt of her daggers she kept in her belt. She focused back on the cottages, the endless sea of stone walls.

    
“Here.” Arabella said bluntly after what seemed like a lifetime of silence. Rueben looked at the cottage, noting nothing different aesthetically. Arabella lifted a dagger from her belt and threw it in the air, catching it offhandedly as she waited for Rueben to extract his tools; she did not do it to impress, though of course she was aware that the action had had that exact effect on Rueben. She smiled slyly to herself as Rueben cleared his throat and focused on digging in his pocket for a thin piece of metal that would be needed to break the meagre lock on the door. He found it quickly and pulled it from his pocket, taking the chance to study Arabella, now they were close enough to touch. She was ethereally beautiful, and from what he had gleaned from her in the time he had been in the travellers she was reluctant to get close to anyone. Coldness ran through her like a river of ice.

    
“What are you waiting for?” Arabella snapped, irritated by the wasted time and the thoughts and emotions she could feel and hear from Rueben. Rueben jumped at the sound of her voice, dropping the metal to the ground. He bent and picked it up, taking a few minutes longer than needed to gather his courage.

    
As he stood he took a deep breath and asked, “Tell me about your past?”

    
Arabella scowled and Rueben’s heart leapt into his mouth. She will not even entertain my interests, Rueben thought sadly, let alone reciprocate them.

    
Arabella threw her hands in the air exasperatedly, as he knew she would, hissing, “Rueben this is not the time!”

    
He stared at her, unable to speak; it felt as though someone had grabbed his heart and forced it to beat to their tune. He could not think coherently, under the silver moonlight Arabella’s black hair shimmered, and her tanned skin looked dangerously inviting, only her eyes, brown pools against the white were angry, and forced him to try and breathe. He knew this sudden attraction was unnatural; it was only a few minutes ago that he had been debating Arabella’s usefulness in this trip, and her skills to defend him, and yet now he felt utterly bewitched.

    
Arabella sighed as she heard and felt all that Rueben was thinking, knowing her fears had been totally justified, he was weak willed and her Gypsy lure, something she had no control over, had pulled him under. But here was not the place to have this argument.

    
“My parents were murdered, I was sent to live with my grandmother in Kingly. We argued a few years ago, and I came here. She taught me everything I know,” Arabella eventually answered, knowing Rueben would not continue on without an answer to his question.

    
“And what you know is... magic?”

    
“Yes, magic,” Arabella agreed weakly.

    
The silence crept between them and in that silence Rueben’s mind was racing. He now saw a different side to Arabella, a forbidden side. He had seen her use magic before, and now she used it to find out if it was safe to enter a house, but now that she had confirmed it was real, she seemed even more unreachable. It scared him and attracted him in equal measures. With a sly smile that he could not control he turned around to the door and picked the lock with ease, entering silently, the door slightly ajar behind him. Arabella took a deep, shaking breath, when he had gone and leant against the wall, her eyes searching for any movement. I shall need to be vigilant with him, she decided, as her fingers twitched over her daggers, his attraction needs to be stamped out before he gets hurt.

    
Forcing Rueben’s foolish feelings for her out of her mind she allowed the silence of the night to calm her. Control now was firmly in her hands. She scoped the sleeping town, noting the blackness of the windows. She knew that five more corners would lead to the square and the tavern. The cottages were all identical, each made by the hands of the villagers. The walls were of stone, the gaps filled with mud which hardened the wall, stopped the elements from entering, and held the stone in place.

    
The army had taken over most of the cottages. Families and friends often lived together in one small house, often as many as thirteen to a room, as there was no other option. Any building or repair work was permitted by Lord Oprend, and he rarely granted it. Anger bubbled in Arabella’s stomach as she thought of how much she and everyone else had suffered at the hands of the army. If she could, she would kill each and every soldier while they slept. The idea formed itself in her head and she felt her rage built until she unsheathed her daggers with a slicing sound. She held them, her hands shaking, until her knuckles were white and her hands became numb. The numbness allowed herself to calm down and take a deep breath. She would never be able to kill them all in one night, there were too many for that. The thought flitted away as she promised herself that she would get her revenge soon enough.