The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  A tense silence fell, broken by the front door violently banging open. In a flash they were all on their feet with their daggers drawn only to see Prospero standing in the doorway with a large stoat hanging lifelessly from his jaws. He padded silently over to Mistral and sat expectantly at her feet, his tail sweeping the floor in long strokes.

  ‘Good boy.’ Mistral patted his head distractedly.

  ‘That’s revolting,’ said Phantom faintly.

  Phantasm regarded the dog for a moment, ‘That’s nothing. He brought a skunk in yesterday.’

  Ignoring the crunching sounds of Prospero making short work of his catch, Phantom began to pace the room again with an agitated expression on his face, ‘We’re not properly prepared! We haven’t had time to perfect a code yet!’

  Fabian raised an eyebrow questioningly and Mistral rolled her eyes, ‘He’s been going on about this for days. I can hear them, but they can’t hear me and I need to let them know who to influence without speaking.’

  Fabian nodded, ‘I see your problem. The Ri’s code would allow you to communicate silently; unfortunately its use is out of the question since Malachi would instantly recognise it.’

  ‘Now you see the problem.’ Mistral sighed. ‘Although today shouldn’t be too much of an issue as I’m only being asked to read Malachi and Bellicose … if I can ... but we still need to communicate silently for future work or our gifts are pretty pointless!’

  ‘Well,’ Fabian began slowly, ‘a simple solution would be to reverse the code –’

  Phantasm stopped pacing and turned to stare at Fabian, ‘Brilliant! That’s just absolutely ... brilliant!’

  Mistral smiled proudly, ‘Of course it is. Fabian thought of it.’

  The twins shared a weary look. ‘Then we have our answer.’ Phantasm announced, suddenly business-like again. ‘Now, forgive me, but we must be ready to leave soon. Mage De Winter?’

  Fabian looked at Phantasm, his expressional politely enquiring.

  ‘There’s plenty of hot water and a set of new clothes ready for you in the bathroom.’

  A short silence fell while Fabian stared speechlessly at Phantasm. Mistral fought down a laugh. Her husband, the inimitable assassin, erudite and composed in any situation, had been completely thrown by Phantasm’s obsession with dressing people.

  ‘Come on, I’ll help you,’ she said, leaping to her feet and holding out her hand to Fabian.

  Phantasm strode over to take hold of her hand and pull her away, ‘I am quite sure that Mage De Winter has no need of assistance Mistral!’

  ‘Probably not, but I’m sure he’d like some.’ Mistral said wistfully, watching her husband disappear up the stairs.

  ‘I’m sure he would, but focus please Mistral! We’re going to a funeral!’

  ‘Don’t remind me!’ Mistral said with a roll of her eyes. ‘“Fill your tankards and drink! We do not mourn the passing of a warrior tonight but honour his life.”’

  “‘Discipline, courage and strength; the qualities of a warrior!”’ Phantom continued in a frighteningly accurate imitation of Leo’s cold voice.

  Mistral and Phantom laughed and proceeded to irritate Phantasm by quoting Leo’s pompous funeral speech until Fabian reappeared.

  ‘Thank you, Phantasm. This was very considerate of you,’ he said quietly, buttoning the cuff on a black silk shirt.

  Mistral quickly walked over and finished buttoning the cuff for him. Her fingers grazing the skin of his wrist in the briefest of touches was all it took to send the blood coursing through her veins. She didn’t dare look at him but quickly turned away to grab her new velvet cloak from the arm of the sofa. Swinging it on, she turned back to face him, tentatively meeting his eyes. Her breath immediately caught in her throat when she saw the same desire mirrored in his black gaze.

  ‘Lady De Winter,’ he raised an eyebrow mockingly and held out his arm for her to take.

  She smiled and took his arm, walking with him to the door, ‘Lord De Winter.’

  ‘Brother?’ Phantom held his arm out to his twin. Phantasm gave him a withering look and flung his cloak on.

  ‘It’s time,’ he said, striding to the door and throwing it open.

  The Eternally Divine

  Snowflakes danced in the crystalline air, blown from the snow laden roofs by a sharp northerly wind to swirl around them as they walked across the village square and up the path to the Main Building. Mistral tugged the hood of her fur lined cloak up, feeling the cold more keenly without the usual protection of her long hair. Fabian took her hand and held it tightly, mindful of the icy path beneath their feet. The heat of his touch burned her skin like an open flame and she stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Snowflakes clung to the dark strands of his tousled hair, framing his pale serious face. He turned to look at her with ebony eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul and then he smiled, his sombre expression immediately lit with a wild, glorious glow that made her heart sing.

  ‘Where are we meeting Master Sphinx?’ Phantasm asked, abruptly shattering Mistral’s moment of bliss.

  ‘The Main Hall,’ Fabian replied, swiftly climbing the steps to the Entrance Hall.

  The sound of murmured voices steadily grew louder as they approached the Main Hall and Mistral felt her heart quicken with nerves; she would be under the scrutiny of every pair of eyes in that room. Her hand tightened reflexively around Fabian’s and he immediately returned the pressure in an unspoken gesture of reassurance.

  Without pausing, Fabian swept her into the room. She immediately felt the gaze of the gathered Arcanes and Mages bore into her. The wife of the enigmatic Mage De Winter, the Ri’s Seer … she drew in a deep breath and forced her chin up in a confident expression she did not feel.

  She could hear the twins’ thoughts when they entered the room behind her. Pride and achievement blended equally with a strong sense of retribution. The half-breeds cast out from Council society now respected, even revered. She dipped her head, letting her hood cover her face while she permitted herself a small smile of satisfaction for her brothers’ success.

  ‘Lady De Winter.’

  A low growling voice made her look up to meet the battle ravaged features of Mage Grapple.

  ‘Mage Grapple,’ she murmured, bowing her head politely.

  ‘I look forward to seeing you in my Council soon.’

  She met his cold grey eyes and nodded briefly. Her position as Seer to the Ri was only one of the roles she now had to fulfil. She had two years of training to pay back to the Ri through Contracts on their behalf; much of it would be served at the Mage Council; highly paid, but she had no doubt it would also be highly boring.

  Mage Grapple nodded briefly to Fabian and the twins before he turned away to be immediately replaced by the familiar stern features of her Training Captain and proposed Divinus, Leo Sphinx.

  ‘You are fully apprised of your role today?’ he demanded in a low voice.

  The twins and Mistral nodded once, keeping their eyes locked on his icy blue gaze for the slightest instruction.

  ‘Bellicose, Malachi and Mage Grapple.’

  His lips mouthed the words but Mistral heard them clearly. Leo’s thoughts filled her mind with shocking abruptness, an unwelcome cold intrusion. She blinked and forced herself to continue to hold his hard blue gaze. Mage Grapple … his father … although Mage Grapple was ignorant of that fact, Leo was not and his bitterness stung Mistral like it was her own.

  ‘Ouch!’ she whispered to Fabian when Leo swept away.

  Fabian turned and brushed her cheek with a kiss, hiding the words he wanted to speak to her, ‘This is hard for him. Leo is not as cold as he makes out.’

  Mistral raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She had just been given access to Leo’s mind and as far as she could see, there was more warmth in an icicle.

  ‘Friends! I welcome you all to our humble Valley.’

  Mistral hid a groan as Mycroft Casterton’s unctuous voice carried across the room. She glanced up to
see him stood before the fire; his heavily jowled face flushed from the heat and no doubt a few large goblets of spiced wine.

  ‘We gather today to honour the passing of one of the greatest Seers the Isle has ever born witness to. Please ... I entreat you all to join me in a toast,’ he paused and reached for an ornately decorated silver goblet. ‘To the Divinus!’

  ‘The Divinus!’

  The echoing of his words rumbled around the Hall. Mistral looked out from beneath her hood, her eyes travelling across the room, examining each face, searching for the familiar pinched features of Malachi Nox. She started in recognition of the regal features of Imperato, the chieftain of the centaur tribe. He was gazing directly at her, his sombre gaze unfathomable. Beside him stood Dravite, the centaur Mistral had treated after the final of The Festival of the Arcane. She glanced briefly at his dark chestnut flanks and noted with satisfaction that barely a scar showed.

  ‘It is time for the ceremony to begin. Please, follow me.’ Mycroft’s voice droned out again.

  ‘That’s got to be the shortest speech he’s ever made!’ Phantom whispered.

  ‘He’s got a eulogy to go yet.’ Mistral whispered back. ‘Did you remember to bring me a pillow? Ow!’

  ‘Sorry! Was that your foot? Only it’s normally in your mouth.’

  ‘I get the message brother, no need to stamp on my foot. Professional and a bit more professional that’s me!’ Mistral hissed angrily.

  ‘Have you seen Malachi yet?’

  ‘No. Where is he?’

  ‘I don’t know – ’

  ‘There.’

  Mistral responded to Fabian’s quiet voice by following his gaze. Malachi Nox was standing on the far side of the room, his deathly pale face turned away to converse with a tall heavily cloaked figure.

  ‘Is that –?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Bellicose La Monte. The head of the only vampire tribe on the Isle. Mistral stared in wonderment, completely forgetting that she was meant to be reading him. She cursed silently when the crowd before her thinned and began to file out of the room. She had missed her fist opportunity.

  ‘Ah, Lady De Winter! May I congratulate you on your achievement.’

  Mistral recognised the rich tones of Bryden Wolfsnare’s voice. She looked up, uncertain as to whether he was referring to her winning The Festival of the Arcane, his festival, or to her finally achieving Sight.

  ‘You were indisposed when the presentation was made … regretfully –’

  So he was talking about the festival. Mistral hid a smile. Grendel, her warrior brother and half-troll, had accepted the prize on her behalf and apparently his acceptance speech had left a lot to be desired.

  ‘You lost a brother in the final.’ Bryden continued and Mistral instantly felt a shadow cross her heart. Saul. ‘But there is no greater honour for an Arcane than to die in a celebration of our kind. I know you will feel pride at his passing.’

  Disbelief welled up inside Mistral. Pride? No, she certainly wasn’t proud that Saul had died to save her, or that he had loved her and she had been utterly incapable of showing him the slightest in return. She clenched her jaw and felt Fabian grip her hand more tightly.

  ‘Thank you Bryden, for attending today. Your presence is an honour not normally bestowed upon the Valley, and something I should like to rectify.’

  Leo’s cold voice cut across her turbulent thoughts, she looked at Fabian, seeking the calm of his black gaze.

  ‘Seer –’

  Before she could seek comfort from her Mage, Imperato’s soulful gaze met her own slightly wild stare.

  ‘You are complete.’

  Imperato’s simple statement required no response. Mistral gazed wordlessly back at the striking figure in front of her. He suddenly smiled, lighting his regal features with a glowing pride that was both beautiful and puzzling. Before Mistral could begin to interpret his expression he was gone and the twins were beside her, their bright green eyes willing her to hear their thoughts.

  With a sigh akin to one about to embark upon a long conversation with a tiresome family member, Mistral let their thoughts fill her mind in a jumbled profusion.

  Have you got a reading on Bellicose La Monte yet?

  What is Mage Rosenberg wearing? It looks like a carnival tent!

  What is Malachi thinking?

  What is Mage Grapple thinking?

  What is Master Sphinx thinking?

  It looks like the secret is out about you having the Sight!

  There goes Master Sphinx’s grand unveiling tonight!

  Mistral closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, ‘No … I have no idea, I’m not his dressmaker … not read him yet … don’t want to read him … nothing of interest … yes and good.’

  Fabian gave her a bemused look then smiled at her weary expression, realising that the twins were inundating her with questions.

  ‘I wish you could read my thoughts,’ she muttered, catching his look.

  ‘Sometimes I can,’ he murmured back, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

  Mistral gave him a long look from beneath her eyelashes, ‘You still owe me half a honeymoon –’

  ‘I know.’

  Have you read Bellicose La Monte yet?

  ‘No!’ She snapped loudly and immediately bowed her head, letting her hood cover her face again to hide from the surprised looks of the two members of Bryden’s tribe who were walking nearby.

  They reached the Entrance Hall and stepped out into the biting cold. A respectful hush fell as the crowd parted to make way for the Divinus, making his final journey to the village square.

  Mistral gazed at the wicker coffin containing the body of the Ri’s greatest Seer. It seemed too small, too humble to contain such a powerful and influential figure. The woven bands of willow were adorned with sprigs of white-berried mistletoe and waxy green holly. Plaited black ribbons tied two long poles of yew to either side, the polished wood resting upon the shoulders of Leo, Malachi, an overawed looking Nereus and a profusely sweating Mycroft Casterton. Mistral fell in step behind the coffin, keeping a tight hold on Fabian’s hand. The walk down to the village was long and slow. Nobody spoke, the wintry silence broken only by the muffled beat of the funeral drum. The procession entered the square to meet a huge gathering of mourners. Warriors, villagers, Mage and Arcane; all had gathered silently around the snow-capped pyre. The pall bearers approached slowly, every measured step seeming to take an age. Finally they were before the wooden structure, shuffling sideways to carefully lay the coffin upon its platform. Gleacher immediately stepped forward with a blazing torch in his hand and paused, the flaming tip held close to the base of the pyre.

  Mycroft stepped forward, surreptitiously wiping a drip of sweat from his brow, ‘We assign our brother’s body to the flames, but his soul is eternal.’

  Mycroft’s voice was slightly out of breath, but not without aplomb. Mistral watched Gleacher touch the torch to the base of the pyre and flames instantly sprang forth, quickly devouring the dry tinder and leaping up to consume the rest of the pyre in a blaze of gold and red flames.

  ‘Arcane, Mage, Ri. We gather as one to celebrate the greatness of the Divinus. May his achievements live in our memories and in our hearts for this lifetime and the next –’

  Mistral let Mycroft’s plummy tones wash over her unnoticed, she was staring intently at the mysterious heavily cloaked figure of Bellicose La Monte, willing her mind to clear of all thoughts and focus on his aura. Sensing the intensity of her gaze, Bellicose lifted his head and met her gaze, Mistral gasped out aloud at the force of his stare but she held his blood red gaze, refusing to break the connection until his aura sprang into view in a violent swirl of crimson. Intense hatred flooded her mind, full of thoughts of vengeance and retribution. None were hers ... she was in his mind.

  ‘What have you Seen?’ Fabian whispered anxiously, disturbed by the intensity of her reaction.

  ‘Bellicose –’

  ‘Ah,’ he exhaled softly and held her han
d more tightly again. ‘I am sure it is not a pretty sight.’

  ‘No.’

  Malachi?

  ‘Getting to it,’ she growled in response to the twins’ unspoken prompt.

  Forcing her gaze onto the sharp features of Malachi Nox, Mistral exhaled slowly and let her mind reveal his hidden thoughts and desires. An aura of deepest blue swam into view; lightning strikes of silver, beige and scarlet rocketed through the blue ... excitement, boredom and anger ... Mistral frowned and pushed her mind further, to See beyond the colourful display of emotions to his very thoughts, his soul.

  ‘I hate my job,’ she muttered, her face contorting into a grimace of distaste.

  What??

  ‘Tell you later,’ she murmured, taking some small satisfaction from the impatience she instantly felt in response.

  Malachi stepped forward, his face cast into sharp relief by the unforgiving light of the bright winter’s day and the burning pyre. He began his speech, his clipped tones magnified to address the crowd in something like a staccato shout.

  ‘The Divinus leaves a void that must be filled by a strong and determined leader. We need a new Divinus, one with a clear vision of the future and a desire to see the continued existence of the Ri beyond restrictive rule! We must seek new ties and new beginnings! The Isle is ripe for change … let this be the herald of such brave times!’

  He stepped back again to a deafening silence broken only by the hungry roar of the funeral pyre. The twins shared a meaningful look and Mistral nodded in agreement to their unspoken words. Malachi was clearly stating his intention to lead them away from the Council should he be elected as Divinus.

  Uh-oh, it’s Master Sphinx’s turn … Mistral looked over at her brother-in-law. He was the light to Fabian’s dark, yet so bleak and barren compared to the rich love that lived within her Mage.

  ‘There are no words that can express the depth of gratitude the Isle owe to the lifetime of dedication given by this Divinus. I ask you all to remember him as Aloysius Broadoak, an exceptionally gifted individual.’