Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) (14 page)

The priests had surprisingly taught them
about mind control in their training, but even this lesson had only
consisted with the basics. She had been rather astonished to learn
that it would be included in their course, but her father had
explained that it was because it ironically was one of the easier
spells to do. People naturally tried to convince others to think
like them, and when they did so while touching the power,
oftentimes they could happen upon a spell which would carry out
this wish. Therefore, the priests had learned that it was better
just to tell people about it and how to prevent it, rather than
dealing with the issues it was bound to cause after the fact.

Renee's nasal voice interrupted her wandering
thoughts and she was abruptly brought back to the present. “Do you
know anyone who's actually seen him?” Renee asked, forcing Jezebel
to wrack her brain to remember what drivel it was that she was
talking about with Renee. O
h, yes. The King's oh-so-important
appearance.
She shrugged in response.

Renee went on cheerfully, “It seems as though
no one knows what he looks like, but I'm dying to find out. One
can't have a husband who doesn't inspire baby-making either,” she
joked.

Jezebel managed to give her a small smile,
but the woman was beginning to irritate her. She was a harebrained
fool with no motivation beyond finding a husband and doing her
wifely duty of producing lots of offspring.
Not that offspring
don't have their own uses as well, I suppose. Having young pliable
minds that would listen to me above anyone else…hmm...maybe Renee
has a point after all.
She brought her attention back to the
fabrics and brought out a particularly hideous gold one. “Why don't
you use this one,” she suggested to Renee. “It would bring out your
eyes.”

Renee held it up to herself doubtfully, and a
maid dutifully moved the mirror so that she could see. “You really
think so?”

“Oh yes,” Jezebel lied smoothly. “It's simply
gorgeous.”

*

Layna was shivering under her thin covers as
a cold breeze found its way in through cracks in the window.
Jezebel forbade them to use the normal amount of wood while she was
gone. Since she wouldn't be there, the house would be empty
according to her, and that meant that they should not need to use
nearly as much wood to heat the place. Despite Layna's layers of
all of the blankets that she owned, the chill bit through, and her
nose ran with cold.

The sun was not quite up, but Layna was
shivering so badly that it was impossible to sleep. She got out of
bed, hoping that moving around would help to warm her. She did a
little dance to avoid stepping on the cold stone floor, and hopped
over to the wash-bin. The rug in front of it was a small comfort to
her toes. Layna sighed as she prodded at what had been water last
night. It was now a solid half moon of ice. She debated putting on
some warm clothes and running out to the stream, but hated the
thought of so much work before she had even had a chance to rub the
sleepiness out of her eyes.
Too bad I can't just warm a rock
like Gryffon can,
she thought to herself regretfully, and then
had a funny thought.
Maybe I'm really a high talent disguised as
a maid so that no one will know that I'm here
. She laughed
ruefully to herself.
Well, why not? Gryffon said it was like
expanding your consciousness to become aware of the power around
you.
Layna relaxed and cleared her mind of all other thoughts.
She tried to become aware of a stream of power that she had always
felt, but never known what it was.

She felt silly. Several moments passed and
nothing happened. She was about to abandon her foolish charade when
all at once a shock wave of understanding hit her. She grabbed for
the power that she suddenly felt with both physical and mental
being.

She was almost thrown backwards by the sheer
force of the contact, and she let go instantly. She clutched her
hand to her chest and cried out in pain. Eyes wide, she stared at
the bowl in front of her. What had been ice just a moment before
was now boiling water, bubbling wildly. Gingerly, she opened her
hand and was horrified to see that her palm was red and blistering,
as though she had just thrust it into a fire.

“Whoa,” she whispered to herself, bringing
her other hand up to rub her neck which had just started
tingling.

Layna glanced around the room nervously as if
expecting someone to have been standing behind her to witness what
had just happened. As always, there was no one in the room but
herself, and she quickly wrapped a piece of cloth around her hand.
She'd have to make do with this makeshift bandage for the first of
her chores and then sneak out to have it taken care of.

Layna couldn't afford a real healer, but
there was a woman on the outskirts of the city who used poultices
and herbs who was also extremely accommodating to those who had
little to pay her with. Layna had visited her a few times and found
her to be a peculiar, but very friendly, old lady. She concentrated
on the pain in her hand and the need to hide it from everyone, not
allowing herself to contemplate the enormity of the situation she
had just caused.

Taking care not to further damage her hand,
Layna sped through her morning chores, which were greatly
diminished by her mistress's absence. Shock numbed her senses, and
Layna found it difficult to think - and impossible to comprehend -
the full consequences of the morning's event. As soon as she was
finished, she popped into the kitchen and found the cook hard at
work. He was catching up on making preserves and such that he
normally had to forgo in order to meet Jezebel's outlandish menu
demands. Laconic as usual, he simply grunted in affirmation of her
statement that she was taking a horse to the healer's.

Layna hurried out so as not to give him a
chance to ask where she had hurt herself and made her way to the
stables. Thanks to Gryffon, she was now well versed in how to
saddle up a horse. Though he often did it for her since it was
easier for him to reach, he insisted that it was best for her to
know how to do it herself, a fact for which she was now
grateful.

She prepared Firefly for the trek and
gingerly mounted, holding the reins with one hand. When she reached
the gates separating the noble manors from the rest of the city,
the guardsmen nodded to her and let her pass without incident. The
streets themselves were almost deserted, most people preferring to
stay inside on such a cold day. Because of the empty streets, Layna
was able to ride Firefly almost to the door of the healer. A
strange, yellow smoke snaked out from the chimney, spreading into a
haze above the house as it fought through the bitter air.

Layna knocked gently on the door and waited.
A moment later the door opened and a hunched-over old woman with
mottled gray and white hair ushered her inside.

“Come in, child. It's freezing out
there.”

Layna followed the woman to a fireplace in
the corner where a cauldron full of a bubbling yellow liquid hung
over a blazing fire.

“There now. Warm your hands; you must be
chilled to the bone.”

Layna nodded gratefully and moved nearer to
the hearth. The old woman puttered around, humming under her breath
for a few moments, allowing Layna to thaw before turning to her and
asking, “Now what can I do for you, honey?” She came over to sit
next to Layna, and Layna offered up her palm wordlessly. The healer
took Layna's hand in her own, examining the blackened mess. Her
wrinkled fingers were firm but gentle, and surprisingly steady for
one her age.

“Tsk, tsk. Perhaps I should not have told you
to put your hands near the fire,” she teased Layna good-naturedly,
“though I don't think that's what happened here.”

The woman closed her eyes, and Layna felt an
odd sensation in her hand. The healer's brow furrowed. “These burns
are from the inside,” she murmured without opening her eyes. Layna
waited patiently as the woman held the pose a moment longer, then
opening her eyes to give Layna an appraising look. “Hasn't anyone
told you not to play with fire, my dear,” she asked, her voice a
touch harsher than a moment before.

Layna began to disagree that she had not
played with fire, but the woman cut her off, her tone once again
soothing and soft. “I have no doubt you did not stick your hand in
a flame, deary, but touching the power is no light matter. That's
why people are trained to use it. And before you ask - no, I'm not
going to make trouble for you.”

She set to work spreading a huge glob of a
foul smelling poultice on Layna's hand and Layna found herself
saying defensively, “I didn't think it would work, my friend was
trained and he explained to me how to - ow, OW!” she exclaimed as
the woman forcefully prodded the worst part of the burn.

With a hint of sarcasm, the woman stated,
“And obviously, he did such a good job.” She sighed and released
Layna's hand to go rummage in some cabinets. “Power is not
something to be taken lightly. There's a big difference between
being told how it is for someone else to use it, than to be taught
how to use it yourself. That burn you have could have been much
worse. Luckily, instinct caused you to release your hold
immediately, and your level of talent allowed you to control as
much of the force as you did, preventing the burn from being any
worse. Many people would have ended up burnt to a crisp by the
stunt that you just pulled.”

Layna was aware that she was staring at the
woman with a stupidly blank expression on her face, but she
couldn't help it. She felt as though her body had gone numb as the
shock of the realization of the full extent of the damage that
could have been caused sunk in. She hung her head.
I could have
killed myself. And now, I have no choice but to spend the rest of
my life with the priests. What have I done?

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” she said, immediately
ashamed. “Thank you very much for the healing and rest assured that
I will go straightaway to the temple to report myself.”

The woman fastened the last of the bandage on
her hand and patted it with completion. “You most certainly will
not,” she stated firmly. “With the shortage of high talent around,
I'm not about to let someone with as much potential as you go and
waste yourself on the priests. I can feel something brewing in my
bones. We're going to need people like you with their wits about
them, not brainwashed into complacency by those charlatans.” Her
eyes crinkled as her weathered old face broke into a smile. “It
seems as though you have someone watching out for you already. You
mentioned you had a friend with trained talent?”

Layna found it difficult to speak, so she
just nodded.

“Good. Think he'd be willing to train you,
and keep it quiet?”

Layna's voice eluded her still, but her
skeptical expression was enough for the healer. The woman bit her
lip.

“Well, you just come back here if you find he
won't. And do try not to let too much time pass before you ask him,
whether it's him or me, I'd like to get as far as possible in your
training before I have to go.”

Layna's voice finally returned and she
sputtered, “I can't just not tell the priests!”

“Why not? What are they going to do, kill
you?”

“Yes!” Layna exclaimed with conviction,
horrified by the very idea.

The corners of the healer's mouth turned
downwards, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Good
point. Not to worry, though, no one will ever know. A trained
talent would have to actually take the time to examine you in order
to detect it since your friend seems to have taken care of you in
that respect. I assume you don't have much direct contact with the
priests, with our lovely system the way it is, so that leaves
nobles. How many nobles do you know that would inspect a mere
servant for talent?” She gave Layna a piercing stare, and her tone
grew more serious. “Believe me, girl. You don't want to go to the
priests.”

Layna was paralyzed by indecision.
All I
have to do is go back to the manor and pretend like nothing
happened. No one knows but me and the healer...but how did she
know? Oh! What should I do?

The woman broke into her downward-spiraling
thoughts. “Things have a way of working themselves out, sweetie.
Trust me. Just go home and go about your business. But do make sure
that you contrive a reason to come see me again soon – one other
than hurting yourself again. We need to find a way to get you
trained.”

Layna led Fly back towards the manor, warring
with herself. Twice she turned the horse to the temple, and twice
she redirected him home. She was too terrified to go through with
it, and she soon found herself at the gates of the manor. She
dismounted, feeling like a field mouse just waiting for a hawk to
swoop down and snatch her up. Her uncertainty led her to stick with
the norm, and she went back inside, trying her best to pretend like
nothing had happened.

*

Jezebel smoothed the deep red dress she had
finally decided on for the ceremony as she stood in front of the
mirror appraisingly. She turned from side to side and wrinkled her
nose. “Not enough in the back,” she complained, irritated at the
maid who was supposed to be helping her get ready. Jezebel was sure
that the girl would not have been able to figure out how to even
get the dress on her without Jezebel directing her every move. The
girl moved forward to pin up more of the back and Jezebel looked it
over, gazing over her shoulder into the mirror. “Better,” she said
grudgingly as the girl made another fold of fabric in one fluid
motion.

Jezebel stared at her reflection. Her bright
red lips matched her dress perfectly, though she had to send back
two tubes of lipstick, and then had needed to resort to smearing
the stuff on the dress to get it through the thick skull of the
girl that they were not, in fact, the same color. Jezebel had given
the girl one more chance and had been surprised that not only was
the dress immaculately cleaned, but the girl had finally managed to
get the right color lipstick.