Free Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) by Shannon M Yarnold

different. As she walked in she looked around, anywhere but the eyes of the men which watched her.
         The ceiling was tall and shadowed. The Great Hall was infinitely different than the Manor; it was made of grey stone, instead of the black marble the Master revelled in. The pillars which made up the various arches were lined with large torches, their golden glow dancing in the soft breeze. Tapestries and statues dotted around the hall. The table sat square in the middle, the centrepiece of the room. The horror of what might happen now was fresh in Wynn’s mind, but her conscious was not content with just the present, as she glanced around the room a memory bubbled.
         Lord Oprend was motionless; his eyes glazed over; around him large black shapes dotted the floor. The army all snored gently, seemingly fallen where they had stood. Lady Oprend lay sprawled in the corner of the room, almost invisible in the shadows. She was clutching a baby in her arms, her face frozen in a scream...
         The sound of wolf whistles snatched Wynn back from her dream. She took in a shaking breath to clear her head and stopped beside the Master’s chair at the head of the table. The dress that the Master had given her was nothing more than a nightdress which stopped short at her thighs. She wore nothing on her feet. The Master smirked at his men before standing up to address them.
         “Men! I have arranged for this beauty to sing for you, so listen and enjoy!”
         Wynn stepped back, towards the wall, as far away as she could get from the men, and coughed nervously. Over one hundred eyes stared at her, drank her in, and eyed her thin shaking frame. The Master began to tap his fingers on the oak table irritably. Wynn could see ire line his face, so in fear she opened her mouth and closed her eyes, imagining her audience did not exist, that she was far from here, and sang:
    “The breeze billowed the stranger’s cloak,
    The horizon hazed with the fire’s smoke.
The moon lit road led the way,
    From the death and fear, far away.
    She stared up at the midnight sky,
    Her future unknown, so tears she cried.
    Her past painful, her present gone,
    So she cried her tears until the dawn.”
    The men sat perfectly still as Wynn’s words washed over them. Each face held a haunted expression; the beauty of Wynn’s voice had completely entranced them. Wynn watched them fearfully; she had never sung to an audience before, to anyone. The air seemed to crackle, as though in preparation for a storm, Wynn even fancied she could feel tiny pinpricks of rain on her skin. The Master stood up slowly and shook his head and with a wave of his arm sent Wynn away. Wynn gladly obliged half walking half running out of the hall, leaving the army to sit bewildered at the angelic voice that had left them spellbound.
        

2

    Wynn was not called to the Master’s chamber for seven days. The Master was not seen in the Manor and the servants enjoyed their work without the pressure of the Master’s presence. Wynn thought about what had happened every spare moment she had. Why had the men acted so strangely? She had never considered herself a good singer, having heard no one else to compare herself to, but even if she had been the most perfect of singers the atmosphere in the room was more than appreciation of her voice. It had been something more and it disturbed her greatly. She could not explain the Master’s absence but knew it was connected to her voice and that scared her.
         So when Cook gave her the heavy plate laden with the Master’s breakfast on the eight day of the Master’s absence, Wynn’s stomach clenched with dread. Cook sadly shrugged and watched Wynn shoulder her way out of the door and up the stairs. The Master was not in his room, as Wynn had assumed he would be, so Wynn left the tray outside the door and went about her daily chores. Somehow, in the course of the day, she worked her way outside and found her