Chapter 26 Non #2
The entire hour we spent at Henffych's workplace was totally pointless.
In the back garden of his workshop was a smaller version of the training ring back at Llwyn Onn.
He'd laid out a slew of weapons for me to try and summon.
According to him, a Wielder determined their Arf based on a few factors.
How quickly one could be summoned, as this varied from weapon to weapon.
How it felt summoning it, which apparently, I would know when one felt right.
And finally, the accuracy when using the weapon.
Henffych even insisted I try a bow and arrow like Ail Llew, who apparently could summon the wood used in the arrow to find its mark each time.
But the first arrow had fallen short of the target, and the second one had almost hit Henffych in the chest. Turns out a bow and arrow wasn't going to be my thing either.
It didn't take a genius to tell that Henffych was a perpetually grumpy person. But during the session, he had seemed slightly standoffish with me. Even before I had nearly killed him with an arrow.
Both he and Jazz were now deep in conversation about the possible Arf I could be given.
I don't know why Jazz bothered to even try to come up with a solution; clearly, nothing was going to work.
I left the two of them to it and took the chance to peruse the weapons that were fixed to the walls of Henffych's workshop.
The weapons—which consisted of staffs, bows, axes, knives, and countless others—were a work of art. Not only were they made for causing serious harm, if not death, but they were also beautiful. Henffych carved every one by hand, and each one had a myriad of complex designs and illustrations on it.
As I turned back around, Jazz was walking towards me with a short staff in their hand.
“Is this it?” I asked as I weighed the stick, which was nearly a third of the length of any of the other staffs I had seen in my hands.
The corner of Jazz's lips kicked up.
“Yes. We thought, seeing as you won't be able to do much with it, there was no point giving you a large weapon; the weight and length would only hinder you in the trials.
This one has a sharp blade that can do decent damage, even if you can't wield it.” As Jazz spoke, I ran my finger over the stiletto blade, nicking it in the process.
Jazz thanked Henffych for his help and made their way towards the door, gesturing for me to follow. I gave Henffych a tight smile and thanked him for his help before following Jazz out the door.
“I was there that day, you know,” his voice called out to us. “When you walked out on your Cychwyniad like a fucking coward.” Henffych's voice was full of venom.
His accusation had me freezing dead in my tracks. I couldn't even bring myself to turn around and face him. But Jazz was full of rage, shoving past me to get to Henffych.
“Jazz, don't!” I pressed my palm to their chest, but their eyes stayed fixed on Henffych.
“I have no gripes with you,” he said, nodding to Jazz. “You're from a good family, even if your stupid aunt made some terrible choices, running off with that Witch and getting herself killed.”
The insult caused Jazz to draw back as if they had just been hit with a physical blow. I knew how much their aunt meant to them, but getting into it with someone four times our combined size wasn't a wise fight to pick.
“It's not worth it, really. Let's just get out of here,” I begged as I struggled to pull Jazz to the door.
“Do you know the sacrifices that were made to get you to the ceremony that day? Gruff, the man whose house you used? He and his wife were killed! His daughter Lleucu was permanently scarred by one of your father’s beasts.
These people gave their lives for you! I'd made some kind of peace when murmurings said you ran because you had no power. I still thought you were a coward, but I could see why you felt pressured and ran. But nearly ten years later, here you are. And lo and behold, you can fucking wield!” Henffych's voice boomed as he pointed a finger directly at me.
He reached to grab something at his side, and Jazz instinctively lunged for a staff on the wall. I cursed myself for not bringing Carnwennan—not that I would have been much help.
Jazz pointed the sharp end of the staff at Henffych, but all he did was lift one side of his shirt, revealing three large scars that ran from his armpit to his hip.
“This was the memento I was left with after that day. One of your father's Cyhyraeth caught me. I barely made it to a summoning circle.”
I had no idea what a Cyhyraeth was, but based on the gory gashes that scarred Henffych's body, I certainly didn't want to find out. Tears streamed down my face, and the unimaginable level of guilt made me feel nauseous.
I continued to beg Jazz to drop the weapon so we could get the hell out of there. Once they noticed my tears, they pinned Henffych with one final warning glare before dropping the staff and storming out the door.
As I pulled the door shut, Henffych slammed a fist on his worktable. “You'd best watch your back during the Anoethau. I pray to Gofannon that you get what's coming to you!”
After putting as much space between us and Henffych's cottage as we possibly could before we came back into the boundary of Llwyn Onn, Jazz came to a stop by a small babbling stream.
We both sat in silence for a while until Jazz lifted their head from where they had hung it between their knees and gave me a sympathetic smile.
“Wanna talk about it?”
I picked at a leaf that had fallen beside me. “What's there to talk about? He's right, I did run. And the worst part is, I had this gut feeling that day that people were putting their lives on the line to protect me. No one explicitly told me anyone had been killed, but deep down, I knew.”
Jazz nodded grimly before picking up a stone and throwing it into the stream.
“I remember my Cychwyniad. The spells they use to scare the magic out of you are barbaric.
They showed me visions of my aunt being attacked by a Cyhyraeth.
They're these bat-like demons the Orddu can control. Her insides were hanging out, and she was begging for help from my mother and Sitti. But they just told her she chose to abandon her Coven and walked away, leaving her to bleed to death.”
I didn't share my similar experience with Jazz about what I saw during my own Cychwyniad. What was the point? Jazz had been given an equally horrifying initiation as I had, but it ultimately worked. They were able to wield and didn't run like a crying baby. I had no excuse.
“Does everyone hate me as much as Henffych now that they know who I am and who my father is?” I wiped away my still-flowing tears with the back of my sleeve.
“Hard to say. There's likely not a Wielder out there who hasn't been affected by Gwaun in some way. His bloodlust is unquenchable. I guess when people found out who you are, they projected the anger they feel for Gwaun onto you. I hate to admit it, but what Henffych said was partly true. You will probably be target number one for almost everyone competing in the Anoethau just because of who your father is.”
I dragged a hand down my face as I realised the likelihood of me walking out of these trials alive was almost impossible, even if I did use Carnwennan as my Arf.
But maybe this was the ending I deserved.
Retribution for all those innocent people who put their lives on the line just to keep alive a nobody girl who'd fucked everything up.
I knew Jazz didn't like to talk about their aunt, but I needed to change the subject, and it was all my brain could think of in the moment.
“How did your aunt and her wife die?”
Jazz threw a large stone at the stream and raised their palm, splitting it in two. “Gwaun. The Orddu.”
A wave of dread crashed over me, my mouth becoming so dry that there was no way I could form a response. Neither of us spoke a word to each other for the remainder of the day.
I was just as nervous for my second training session with the Northern Coven as I was for my first. Honestly, my nightly punishment had kept me busy enough that I'd forgotten all about it.
Jazz hadn't mentioned a word about it as we made our way back to the castle.
They hadn't said a single word, come to think of it.
I wouldn't blame them if they wanted nothing to do with me, considering my father had been the reason for their aunt's death; they had every reason to despise me.
As did every Witch and Wielder in the five Covens.
As I made my way towards the training ring, the group of Wielders that had been deep in conversation fell silent.
Every set of eyes focused on me as I approached.
Seren stood at the front of the crowd, her own eyes tracking my movements as a cold smile danced on her lips. Once I joined the group, she barked an order for everyone to pick a partner, as we would be running one-on-one sparring drills.
Needless to say, nobody wanted to partner with me. I even tried to meet the eyes of a few Wielders with a forced smile. But within minutes, everyone was paired up, leaving only me without a partner.
We all huddled around the edge of the ring as the first pair took their positions.
To say the drills were a blood bath was an understatement. When one of the blond twins who'd antagonised me during my first training session picked a teenager who couldn't have been taller than five foot and weighed less than ten stone, I knew it was only going to end one way.
What made their fight so much worse is that he had drawn it out. Letting her land a few blows to make the poor girl think she had the upper hand. But when he cracked his Arf against her temple, landing his finishing blow, she was unconscious in an instant.