The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  ‘None of those. I’m not sorry I followed you, I belong with you Fabian, it’s not possible for us to be apart … and I’m never going to be sorry for riding the queen, that was – ’ Mistral paused, at a loss for words to describe how that had felt. ‘Something else. What I am sorry for is causing you so much anguish. I would do anything never to make you feel like that again.’

  ‘How about doing what I tell you to then?’ he asked reasonably.

  ‘Anything but that.’

  Fabian laughed quietly.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she frowned.

  ‘Oh, it’s just that I think you’re going to have to become used to me telling you what to do from now on.’

  ‘Oh? Am I really?’ There was no disguising the sharpness of her response.

  ‘Hmm, yes, you are.’ Fabian smiled down at her, his eyes lit with subtle humour at some private joke.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m your Training Captain now.’

  ‘So?’ She pouted. ‘I’m no longer an apprentice!’

  ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘You are my Training Lieutenant.’

  Mistral stared at him then a slow grin spread across her face, ‘Really? You sacked Nereus?’

  Fabian nodded then raised an eyebrow, ‘But I think we need to agree some ground rules before you undertake the role.’

  ‘Whatever you say, boss,’ she smiled and tilted her face up to kiss him.

  Mistral awoke the next morning, stiff from a night sleeping on the hard ground. She groaned and stretched, shoving Prospero off her legs. Fabian was not beside her, she looked over the campsite to see him sat talking with Samson, their heads bowed over his map of the Northern Range.

  She dragged a hand through her knotted hair and winced, the cut on her scalp was tender, and the hair around it matted with dried blood. Her whole body ached, but Cain had reassured her she’d done no harm to herself or the baby, although he had been at great pains to recommend that she lose her “attitude” and “defiant disregard for danger or consequences”.

  ‘Good morning, sleep well?’

  Mistral glanced up to see the twins walking towards her.

  ‘Breakfast in bed for Lady De Winter is it?’ Phantom grinned and dropped down beside her, passing her some cold meat and bread.

  ‘Oh thanks! I’m starving!’ She bit hungrily into the meat and sighed with pleasure. ‘Roast beef!’

  Phantasm sat down on her other side and rested his hands lightly on his bent knees, gazing over at the mountains. He had barely spoken to her since the fight, not that here had been much time, but he was unusually reticent. She glanced at him, studying the flawless profile of his face, apollonian in its perfection. His aura flared into view instantly, encircling his blonde hair in a halo of bronze; guilt and remorse.

  ‘Whatever it is that’s bothering you brother, you’re going to have to tell me because I’m all done with listening to thoughts for the moment,’ she sighed. ‘Yesterday was a touch wearing.’

  He turned to look at her and she was shocked to see tears glistening in his eyes, ‘I would never have forgiven myself if you had been hurt yesterday! I should never have left you alone on that ledge –’

  ‘Yes you should!’ she cut across him sharply. ‘If you hadn’t then we’d all be dead! You warned the others of Bellicose’s plan … and anyway everything’s fine –’

  ‘Everything?’ he asked in an agonised whisper.

  Mistral rolled her eyes and tossed a piece of meat to Prospero, ‘Everything.’

  He closed his eyes and sighed. Mistral shot a meaningful look at Phantom but he didn’t meet her look, his brother’s obsession with being a godfather was something he was plainly unwilling to comment on. Instead he lifted his chin slightly to draw her attention to Fabian and Samson’s conversation.

  ‘Looks a bit intense. What’re they talking about Mistral?’

  She gazed over at Fabian, bending his head to speak Samson to avoid being overheard, his expression taut.

  With a resigned sigh Mistral pushed her weary mind to function again; like a door banging open on a windy day, Fabian’s thoughts rushed in. She stared blankly at the sky while she listened to them for a few moments. Breaking the connection with another long sigh, she returned her attention to the last of the roast beef before Prospero’s nose crept any closer to it.

  ‘They’re arguing … Samson wants to break camp and leave straight away … he’s worried that Malachi will have fled straight back to the vampire tribe and lead the females down on us,’ she lifted her gaze to study Fabian again, he was shaking his head at Samson. ‘But Fabian wants to stay another day, he wants me to rest.’

  ‘And what do you want Mistral?’ Phantasm asked quietly.

  She looked down at her dirty hands, holding them up to examine the dried blood encrusted beneath her fingernails, ‘A bath.’

  Phantom laughed. She grinned at him suddenly noticing that his blonde hair was wet. ‘You’ve had a wash!’ she cried accusingly.

  ‘Yes, much as I adore the aroma of vampire blood, I felt it was a touch overpowering –’

  ‘Show me where!’ Mistral demanded, throwing off the Wolverine skin and leaping to her feet.

  ‘What’s it worth?’

  ‘Me not beating you to death in the next five seconds! Come on brother! You owe me!’

  ‘I do?’ Phantom looked surprised and stood up slowly. ‘And just how do you work that one out?’

  ‘Er, well first there was the centaur thing, then trying to terrify me to death with a nightmare –’

  ‘Equalled out by me saving you from falling off the ledge yesterday.’ Phantom said dismissively and bent down to pick up her saddlebag.

  ‘Hang on! It was me that worked out Bellicose’s plan!’

  ‘Ah, but it was me who told the others about it.’ Phantom argued back, taking hold of her hand and leading her away from the campsite.

  ‘No that was your brother! You just went to have a nosy at the dead vampires!’

  ‘Nosy? Is that even a word?’

  ‘I’ll give you a word –’

  Phantasm watched them walk away towards the mountain stream. He listened to their bickering gradually fade until he could no longer hear their voices, only see the figures of his twin leading the mother of his godson away by the hand.

  ‘Is it me or is she mellowing?’ Xerxes commented, wandering over and chewing thoughtfully on a leg of roast rabbit.

  Phantasm raised his eyebrows, ‘Did you hear the language she was using when we left her with the centaurs?’

  Xerxes grinned, ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten that brief relapse,’ he patted his top pocket absently. ‘Ought to make a note of some of her more choice phrases, one or two were quite good.’

  Phantom returned a short while later, soaked to the skin and scowling angrily. Mistral had finally lost her temper with him and pushed him into the stream.

  ‘Not mellowed then.’ Xerxes said, glancing up from his parchment before returning his attention back to the scribbled lists of numbers and names, frowning in concentration. ‘You know brother, I’m sure I took a bet somewhere that you would get scarred up before me – I just can’t seem to find a record of it.’

  ‘Is it bad?’ Brutus asked, gingerly probing the wound with his fingers.

  ‘Terrible. You look like Mage Grapple.’ Xerxes said without looking up.

  Brutus’s face fell, ‘Do I?’

  Xerxes nodded and gazed at him sorrowfully, ‘Shame Mistral didn’t stitch it straight either.’

  Brutus looked like he was about to cry.

  ‘He’s winding you up Brutus! Mistral did a perfect job. And, so long as you don’t go bald, no-one will ever see the scar,’ sighed Cain, not looking up from the dressing he was changing on one of Grendel’s wounds. ‘There you go brother, I’m sorry I can’t stitch them, but your skin’s just too tough to push a needle through.’

  Grendel grunted indifferently and tugged his shirt back on, ‘Can’t feel them anyway.’

>   Mistral returned, invigorated from her wash to find the argument between Samson and Fabian had escalated. They were stood face-to-face, holding searing eye contact while they spoke in intense voices that were low, but still carried clearly across the campsite.

  ‘We are not ready to face another battle!’

  ‘I will not leave until she is ready! Go without us!’

  Samson’s scarred face creased into a disdainful expression, ‘I would never leave warriors behind! If you stay, we stay!’

  ‘Then stay! But do not ask me to endanger the health of my wife and child any further than I already have!’

  ‘You are endangering them both with every second that we linger in this godforsaken place!’

  ‘I’d quite like to leave too actually.’ Mistral interrupted quietly. ‘Cain says I’m fine – isn’t that right brother?’ She looked pointedly at Cain.

  Cain gave her a reproachful look, displeased to have been drawn into the argument, ‘Well yes, apart from some superficial cuts and bruises, you are well enough to be able to travel.’

  Mistral turned back to Fabian and Samson, raising her eyebrows, ‘See? We can go, only I’d like to read Malachi first and make sure he isn’t about to leap out on us with a horde of vengeful widows –’

  ‘Just as soon as you and I have finished checking the wounds we treated yesterday Mistral.’ Cain broke in tersely. ‘If there’s one thing I hate more than being used in someone else’s argument, it’s stitching the same wound twice!’

  ‘Fine!’ Irritated by Cain’s bossy attitude, Mistral levelled Samson with an evil look. ‘If you’ve quite finished arguing with my husband Samson, I’ll check you first … and you’d better pray it doesn’t need re-stitching!’

  Samson quailed under the force of her stare and sank to the ground wordlessly while Fabian turned and walked away.

  ‘Come on Samson, shirt off, I haven’t got all day!’ Mistral snapped, tapping her foot impatiently.

  ‘Er, try to be gentle with me won’t you Mistral?’ Samson eyed her apprehensively while he unbuttoned his shirt.

  ‘Yes, yes, you know me.’

  ‘That’s my concern actually.’

  While she checked the wound Mistral noticed a small tattoo on his shoulder; a black star radiating light from each of its five points. A star called Gemma; the girl he’d nearly married years ago. She smiled at the permanent reminder on his skin, another scar.

  ‘You have no idea how much it knocks a man’s confidence when a woman smiles at his naked body.’

  ‘You’re not naked Samson, and I’m smiling at your tattoo, not you.’ Mistral said briskly and began to tug at the stitches to check they were holding.

  ‘Oh.’ Samson fell silent and looked unusually bashful.

  ‘What happened?’ Mistral asked distractedly while she daubed more iodine onto the wound.

  He shrugged, ‘I was unfaithful, she was … unforgiving –’

  ‘Samson.’ Mistral put down the bottle of iodine and gave him a long look. ‘I’ve suffered Xerxes as a brother for nearly three years. You must’ve done something more than that!’

  ‘Er, well. Maybe.’

  ‘I think you’d better tell me if you want to remain a godfather to my son, or I’ll only have to find out for myself, and you never know what I’ll discover while I’m rooting around in your mind.’

  Samson pulled a face, twisting his scars into a mask of remorse, ‘It wasn’t one of my finest moments Mistral.’

  ‘Worse than Persia?’

  Samson sighed, ‘Infinitely.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘I was young … and quite handsome too; anyway, I met Gemma shortly after Qualifying. I thought I was such a hero … The Ri Warrior! We started courting –’

  Mistral concentrated on cleaning the other cuts she hadn’t had time to tend the day before while she listened to Samson’s tale, smiling at his youthful misdemeanours. His aura was telling her more than his words; guilt, regret and still, after all these years, an unmistakable smudge of pink. Love.

  ‘So there you have it, my sorry story.’

  ‘It wasn’t so bad.’ Mistral said fairly. ‘Although I am glad I’ve chosen a godmother that you won’t feel compelled to behave the same way with.’

  Samson looked at her in surprise, ‘Godmother? Who?’

  ‘Oh you’ve met her. You know, big, scaly, likes to eat vampires for breakfast –’

  Birthday Party

  By noon they had broken camp and were riding back down through the lower slopes of the Northern Range to camp for the night at the edge of the High Moors. Mistral was exhausted but determined not to show it. She managed to read Malachi again then stay awake long enough to witness Xerxes start a game of knuckle bones but was asleep with her head on Fabian’s shoulder before the first round was over.

  The following day dawned, bright and clear with the powder blue sky above them heralding the first real day of summer. By the time the sun had risen above the horizon they had reached the end of the stony path leading them out of the mountains and the long sweep of the High Moors spread out before them. The horses pricked up their ears and tossed their heads at the sight of the wide plains, thick with lush grass. Reining their restless horses to a halt at the top of the ridge that formed the start of the moors, Samson turned to Fabian and began to discuss the route they should take.

  While they debated the various options, Mistral gazed at the view. She could see the whole of the High Moors, stretching out from the Dawn Forests on their left over to the western coastline of the Isle; a sweeping expanse of green, dotted here and there with purple heather and the occasional crop of light grey rocks.

  ‘We’re agreed then.’ Samson announced. ‘We’ll head for the lake and make camp there for the night.’

  Mistral followed Samson’s pointed finger and saw a long oval of water, the same lake they’d camped at the year before with the Rochfortes. Then it had been an uninviting sheet of grey water, but today the surface was completely still, a mirror reflecting back the perfect blue of the early morning sky.

  Following Samson they descended the ridge, controlling their horses with some difficulty. The sun above them and the breeze at their backs had made them all skittish. By the time they reached the level ground of the moors the sound of Samson swearing at Grendel for not keeping his firebrand stallion under control had become a constant refrain. Grendel eventually lost his temper and gave the powerful horse his head, charging off across the moors at a thunderous gallop, upsetting all the other horses in the process. Mistral struggled to hold Cirrus back while she watched him enviously.

  ‘Not a patch on the one you were riding a couple of days ago.’ Phantasm murmured in a placating tone.

  ‘Very true brother.’ Mistral agreed with a smile. That was one memory she never wanted to forget.

  ‘What’s the date today?’ Phantom suddenly asked.

  Mistral frowned, ‘No idea, it’s May now though isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes Mistral it is.’ Cain said with a roll of his eyes.

  Mistral gave him a sour look. Just because she was pregnant Cain expected her to announce the precise date like some kind of living calendar. Why did she need to know how long she’d been pregnant for? The baby would be born when it was born, and not a minute before.

  ‘And by my calculations it’s the twenty first of May.’ Cain finished, giving Mistral a reproving look that clearly told her she should’ve known that.

  ‘I thought so!’ Phantom turned and grinned at his brother. ‘Happy Birthday!’

  Mistral looked at them in surprise. She had known the twins for nearly three years and had no idea when their birthday was. But then, birthdays were not traditionally celebrated in the Valley. Most warriors barely knew who their parents were, never mind the date they were born on. Mistral herself had only recently found out that her birthday fell in October, and she’d never even considered asking Fabian when his birthday was; she was sure it would only serve as a reminder of his unh
appy childhood.

  ‘Well, I think this calls for a bit of a celebration, don’t you?’ Samson declared cheerfully and hefted his crossbow up with one hand. ‘Small wager on who brings in the most game brother?’ he asked and raised an eyebrow at Xerxes.

  ‘Ten bronze coins to enter the sweepstake. The winner gets the lot.’ Xerxes replied promptly and pulled his longbow from his back.

  ‘Done!’ Samson grinned and kicked his mare into a canter, pulling away from the group of warriors.

  ‘Damn! He’s got a head start!’

  ‘Come on brother!’

  ‘Can I borrow Prospero, Mistral?’ Brutus asked quickly.

  She nodded and looked down at her dog, gazing eagerly up at her, his long tail wagging with anticipation, ‘Go hunt boy –’

  With a loud woof he bounded after Brutus, following the other warriors, spurring their horses on to fan out across the open grassland. Mistral watched them go with a heavy sigh, feeling her previous envy rapidly returning. She was still banned from hunting … well, apart from the brief respite of hunting vampires from the back of the dragon queen.

  Wordlessly reaching out to take hold of her hand, Fabian gave her a look that instantly burned any jealous thoughts her mind. His thoughts whispered in her ear, she listened to them and grinned slowly. ‘You read my mind.’

  By the middle of the afternoon the warriors had gathered to compare hauls and the usual heated arguments were taking place.

  ‘No Cain! An adder doesn’t count! We can’t eat it can we?’

  ‘Well, you could if you wanted to –’

  ‘No thanks! And I’m still not scoring it as a legitimate kill!’

  ‘Oh come on! Give me some credit for making a damned good shot!’

  ‘Your horse trod on it!’

  Knowing he had been caught out, Cain grinned, ‘Still, worth a try though!’

  Xerxes shook his head angrily, ‘Cheating hob!’

  Phantom wandered along the row of game with a disgruntled expression on his face, ‘Rabbit … rabbit … rabbit … grouse … more rabbit, huh! You know what brother?’ he turned to his twin, sat quietly plucking a grouse.