He gazed at her, his tail swishing gently, ‘You are the fourth.’
Mistral struggled not to roll her eyes, ‘How can I be a centaur? I only have two legs for a start!’ Another calm swish of the tail met her outburst. Mistral fought the urge to ask him to stop.
‘You were born to be a Seer, not a centaur. Sight will shape the vessel to take the form required in order to fulfil its destiny. You were sired by a centaur and born to a centaur dam, but the Sight that lived within you determined your physical shape.’
Mistral felt her face crumple in confusion. A centaur? Really? She suddenly wished Phantasm were here to help her accept what Imperato was telling her, or even Phantom to help her make a joke of it ... then quickly reasoned that this was probably something she had to come to terms with on her own. Another part of her destiny. Well, it explained her love of horses, solitude and hunting … a sudden thought struck her. She might not be an orphan.
‘Are my parents still alive?’ She asked quickly.
Imperato nodded.
Mistral’s heart began to race with excitement. It seemed too much of a coincidence that she’d been found on the outskirts of The Velvet Forests, right where a centaur tribe lived. Could it really be that she would meet them? Confront them! Demand to know why they abandoned her to a life of not knowing, of being an outcast and condemned to live in the grubby, tired Mage hamlet of Nevelte.
Mistral swallowed down her excitement, ‘Are they … here?’
Imperato nodded again.
Mistral stared at him, hardly daring to voice the question that was bursting out of her, ‘Can I meet them?’
‘You already have.’
Mistral’s mind wheeled, remembering the centaurs she’d met so far. Dravite and Faras! Which one was her sire? Dravite was similar in colouring to her with dark eyes and hair, but Faras had her temperament ... Alyssa had returned, walking gracefully into the hut to stand beside Imperato. The female centaur was regarding her with a gaze so tender that Mistral was instantly reminded of the way the queen had looked at her. With eyes filled with a mother’s love –
Mistral gasped aloud, her mouth falling open in shock. The face she occasionally saw in the mirror was looking at her right now. Alyssa had her eyes.
‘I’m –?’ She stopped herself and shook her head. She’d been about to suggest that she was their daughter. It was almost laughable! But something in Alyssa’s expression made her falter and stare with renewed disbelief. She hardly dare think it, never mind utter the words.
‘Really?’ She finally asked in a strained whisper.
Imperato nodded, ‘You are our daughter.’
Mistral’s stared at them both, silent and unmoving, while inside her a storm raged. Disbelief gave way to a brief burst of relief at finally knowing the truth, no matter how bizarre it was, to be instantly replaced by trepidation; she had parents, in particular a mother … Mistral’s experience of mothers had been tainted by meeting the daunting figures of Melsina and Diannah, and she wasn’t keen on having one of those in her life. Finally she was consumed by her default emotion. Anger.
‘Please tell me,’ she began in a quiet voice. ‘Exactly why you saw fit to abandon me to suffer possibly the dullest upbringing it was possible to have when I could have been raised here,’ her voice rose dramatically until she was almost shouting, ‘where I obviously belong! You sent me to Nevelte! If you didn’t think you could bring me up why didn’t you just take me to the Valley? Was I such a terrible baby that you left me to die on a dirt track in the middle of a storm? Were you so ashamed of what you’d made? A two-legged baby, not a four-legged one?’ Mistral flung the insults into Alyssa’s face, feeling a savage sense of satisfaction with every flinch of pain. It felt good to finally vent the anger she felt towards her faceless parents, now stood before her, real and alive ... and irritatingly calm. ‘How can you stand there and look so damned serene?’ She screamed at Imperato. ‘You ruined my life!’
‘It was your destiny.’ Imperato said quietly.
Mistral gave a harsh laugh, ‘Destiny! I am so fed up with my damned destiny! Why is everyone obsessed with my wretched future? It’s mine! And I want nothing to do with it! My destiny can go to hell for all I care!’
Alyssa suddenly began to cry and Mistral instantly stopped shouting. The sight of such a noble and dignified creature being reduced to tears by her bad-tempered ranting made her feel ashamed. Imperato made no move to comfort his partner but continued to look at Mistral, his expression composed as ever.
‘The moment you were born we knew you were not destined to live amongst our tribe. I studied the stars to find the answer.’
Mistral gritted her teeth. So the damned stars were to blame for her being sent to live in that flea-pit Nevelte. She vowed never to study astrology ever again.
‘There I saw the first indication of your destiny. You were born to be a Seer, but your form was not that of a centaur. You were shaped to be amongst the others, and we could not prepare you for that life here in the forests. You needed to be raised knowing about matters that we do not concern ourselves with.’
‘You sentenced me to sixteen years of purgatory! Prepared? Nevelte prepared me for nothing!’
‘You were safe.’
Mistral stared at him, realising that she couldn’t argue with him on that point. Nevelte had been interminably dull, but it had been safe.
‘You were loved.’
Mistral felt a burst of shock, swiftly followed by a crushing wave of guilt. Brothertoft and Elnora; the elderly couple who’d taken her in. Yes, she supposed they had loved her … they must have ... there was no other reason why they would have put up with her disgraceful behaviour for so many years when others would surely have slung her out.
‘And you were free to follow your destiny when you were ready.’
Mistral could help but scowl. Imperato was irritatingly right again. The moment she’d been old enough to train in the Ri she’d left Nevelte and never looked back. The Valley had taught her so much more than how to be a hunter, thief or assassin. She’d met the twins, her brothers, the Divinus ... and Fabian.
Fabian.
She looked down at the tatty shirt of his she was wearing, covering the body that held their child.
‘The night I placed you on that track for the Mage to find you was the worst night of my life.’ Alyssa’s quietly spoken confession forced Mistral to look up, meeting the tear-filled eyes of her mother. ‘I knew you were destined to be more than a tribal centaur. We could not rob you of that chance ... but I wanted to … oh! So much! I selfishly wanted to keep you here, safe in the forests with me … my daughter.
‘It would have been easier for me to have cut out my own heart than give you away, but I did,’ she lifted her chin proudly and Mistral almost smiled in recognition of her own defiant expression. ‘Because it was right for you, and that is all a mother ever wants, to do what is right for their child.’
Mistral listened to Alyssa’s words with a growing sense of fear. She had a life growing inside her now. Would she feel the same overpowering desire to do whatever was necessary to ensure the safety of her child? She could barely look after herself never mind be responsible for another living being! She wasn’t capable of being a mother! She’d spent years running from her destiny, overwhelmed by the responsibility that Sight entailed, and in the end she’d only embraced her gift in order to have the one thing she’d wanted more than anything ... Fabian. And now her so coveted Mage had forced her into a future she was totally unprepared for. She felt lost and angry; betrayed by the man she trusted. Mistral dropped her head into her hands, pressing her fingers over her eyes to hide the tears that threatened to fall.
‘I think I need a few minutes –’
Left alone with Prospero, Mistral wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his fur until there were no tears left to cry. She sat upright and dried her eyes. Her outburst had left her calm enough to think rationally again. She could hear the twins’ frantic tho
ughts in her mind, demanding that she come back. She could feel the pull of their gift but it was no more than the nagging voice of a petulant parent. ‘Do your worst brothers,’ she muttered. ‘I can hear you, but I don’t have to do what you say.’
She didn’t let her mind reach for Fabian’s. She was nowhere near ready to think about him yet.
The daylight slowly faded while Mistral sat with her arms clasped around Prospero and thought. So much of what Imperato had revealed made sense. In fact, the truth was almost too easy to accept. She was mildly surprised to find that she could come to terms with her past quite easily. But her future … that was a different matter entirely.
She considered and discounted various different possibilities. She could stay here, raise her child with her tribe, make Imperato and Alyssa into the proud and doting grandparents they obviously wanted to be. It would be a good life filled with no responsibilities other than hunting and the day to day business of living in the forests. But she would condemn her child to never knowing its father; a piece of her personal puzzle she had hated growing up without. She knew she could never do that to another living soul. Mistral tentatively laid her hands across her belly and thought about the baby within her. Her gift reached out unbidden, bringing the tiny whisper of life to her ears. She listened ... and she smiled.
A face appeared in the doorway, looking at her with eyes she never thought she’d never see again. She stared at the yarthkin and realised that he had spoken and was now waiting for a response.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘Missed that last bit –’
‘The tribe are eating together tonight and have asked me to enquire whether you feel well enough to join them.’
‘Oh. Right.’ Food beckoned. Mistral rose stiffly and followed the yarthkin out into the night. The centaur settlement was built in a circle; at its centre was a space, now filled with trestle tables set around a blazing fire. The rich aroma of roasting meat filled her nostrils and Mistral’s mouth began to water. She followed the yarthkin over to where Alyssa and Imperato were stood, offering her a chair between them. Mistral sat down and instantly realised she was the only one doing so; all of the centaurs were stood. She half rose to her feet again only to feel Alyssa’s light touch on her arm.
‘Sit. You must rest. We stand because that is our way.’
Mistral sank down onto the chair and gazed around at the centaur tribe. Many of them she recognised from her lessons with Imperato last year; but the faces of their bonded partners were new to her. The female centaurs were no less wild or proud in their expressions, but their horse bodies were less powerfully built; finer and more graceful, reminding Mistral once again of the lithe mare Fabian owned.
Food was served on wooden platters, brought to them by the same brown-eyed yarthkin that had summoned Mistral from her hut. She turned to Imperato and hesitated. Her anger at her parents had abated. She had come to terms with their decision and felt no bitterness, but she felt a need to apologise for her earlier outburst. Expecting him to be angry with her she said his name quietly. He immediately turned to look at her and, as usual, completely threw her by saying the thing she least expected.
‘Are you ready to read me now my child?’
Not really. That was the last thing she wanted to do. However she felt she’d probably offended him enough for one day. ‘Yes.’
‘Please eat something before you begin.’
Grateful for an excuse to put off what was surely going to be an uncomfortable experience; Mistral ate and listened to the conversations being held around the table. The centaurs talked of hunting, the weather, what the stars foretold and other subjects that were of little interest to her, and she quickly grew bored. Surreptitiously dropping a large chunk of venison to Prospero, Mistral sighed and prepared herself to read Imperato, the centaur chieftain … her father. ‘I’m ready now,’ she said quietly.
Imperato nodded and gazed unconcernedly at the fire in the centre of the circle of tables, ‘Then begin my child, you have waited a long time to hear this story.’
Mistral exhaled slowly, letting the turbulent mix of emotions flow from her body; her anger at Fabian, her shock, her fear … it all slipped away to leave her mind clear and free. She looked intently at the air above Imperato’s head, focussing on his aura. A burst of royal blue exploded into sight, signifying the focus he felt. She smiled. Fabian’s aura was like that. They were very similar, her father and her husband. Refusing to become side-tracked by thoughts of Fabian, Mistral concentrated harder, pushing the tendrils of her mind out, reaching for Imperato’s thoughts. A voice rich and sweet as honey murmured in her ear. She frowned and tilted her head to listen more closely. Rather than simply allowed her access to his random thoughts, Imperato was telling her a story; not just any story ... but her story.
You were born on the full moon in October; a powerful portent in itself. We knew as soon as we saw your tiny form that you were destined for much more than we could ever hope to provide. The stars had foretold of the arrival of a new Seer and we both knew that you were to fulfil that role.
A full month passed before we could bear to accept the truth; that we were not destined to raise our child as our own. We took you to where we knew you would be found … and cared for. Do not hate us for the choice of destination, you were safe and loved, bored maybe ... but not harmed.
When you grew older and journeyed into the forests to hunt we would watch over you. I was proud of my daughter, the huntress! The nights you slept beneath the trees you were not alone. We may have been unable to raise you, but you were never without our protection.
We followed you the day you left the forests and travelled to the Valley of the Ri. You were finally beginning your journey to reach your destiny.
Fleeting glimpses of your life were all I saw until we met again at The Festival of the Arcane. I knew then that you were on the cusp of embracing your gift. The time was coming when you would need my guidance in your life once more … I offer you that now my child, whenever you require it …
Mistral listened to Imperato’s memories and felt the missing pieces of her past falling into place. She’d always felt safe in the forests, sleeping beneath the trees ... and now she knew why. She’d had unseen centaur guardians watching over her. His thoughts revealed much, but the emotion that the memories evoked told her more. She felt afresh the despair of knowing he would have to trust another to raise his child, felt the warm glow of pride when he recalled watching her hunt a bear … the trepidation when she walked across the meadows to enter the Valley of the Ri for the first time ... The brown-eyed yarthkin interrupted her thoughts to bring her a honeyed desert. She grimaced and refused it with a frantic wave of her hand.
Alyssa laughed softly beside her, ‘Honey made me so sick when I was with you.’
Mistral turned to look at her mother. They hadn’t spoken since Mistral had shouted at her in the hut. ‘I’m sorry –’
Alyssa cut her off with a gentle touch, ‘Don’t be. I’m sure it is hard to understand our reasoning, but I can tell you this ... I would gladly suffer the agony of giving you up all over again if I knew that one day I would be here, sharing a meal with you, carrying our grandchild.’
‘You haven’t met your son-in-law yet.’ Mistral muttered darkly.
Alyssa smiled, ‘I know of the Mage De Winter, and that my daughter is the Lady De Winter.’
Mistral made an irritated noise and threw another piece of meat to Prospero. She looked out at the tribe, illuminated by the warm glow of the fire. They conducted themselves with so much more composure than any other Arcane tribes Mistral had ever been in the company of. Where did she get her innate recklessness from? Her love of fighting? Her impulsiveness? The quiet gathering of centaurs didn’t reflect her nature at all. She turned to Imperato again, her eyes filled with unspoken questions. He smiled at her in the same way that had previously perplexed her but now made complete sense. Like a father.
‘Ask,’ he said simply.
Instead of the one she was going to ask, Mistral heard a completely different question fall from her lips, ‘Why do you have yarthkins waiting on you?’
‘Yarthkins are blood-bound to protect our kind.’ Imperato replied quietly then turned to look at her. ‘It is their destiny.’
Mistral felt a weight drop into her stomach. Saul. Saul had been half-yarthkin. From the day they’d met she’d experienced a strange sense of familiarity, a feeling of always knowing him. And now, finally, she understood. He had been blood-bound to protect her. More than that, he had died to protect her. And worse, infinitely worse, he had never known why. He had thought he was driven by love, not blood. But why? Why would a race as fierce and adept at hunting as centaurs need to enslave another to guard them? ‘I don’t understand. Why would centaurs need the protection of yarthkins?’
‘Before the Isle was forged our kind favoured the east, the Persian lands. We found it harder to hide from mankind than the other Arcanes. Our forms are too distinctive. We could not hope to blend into their society the way that Mages can. We were persecuted for our different appearance, hunted to the brink of extinction. Other Arcanes were able to pass themselves off as being human; elves, sylvads, yarthkins. It was the yarthkin chieftain who approached the centaur chieftain and offered the eternal protection of his kind and assisted our escape to the sanctuary of the Isle.’
Mistral frowned, ‘What did they get in return for eternal servitude?’
‘The honour of serving our ancient and noble race is reward enough.’
Mistral quickly hid her incredulous reaction. Maybe she was too indoctrinated in the ways of the Ri; that every service had a price. But to offer a lifetime … no, it had been more than that in Saul’s case … to offer a life in return for something as empty as honour? She could barely conceal a snort of disdain. She suddenly hoped that Saul had loved her … her, not the centaur or the Seer, but Mistral, the stupid, reckless idiot. If he had, then she could feel some small consolation that he’d died for a true emotion and not some echo of an ancient blood-tie. Forcing aside the ache of Saul’s memory, Mistral turned again to Imperato to ask another question that she knew only he would have the answer to. ‘I took the Ten Year Cull Contract.’
The Seer Page 31
