The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  Mistral and Fabian rode their horses mercilessly; desperate to put as much distance between them and the farmhouse as possible, knowing the small reconnaissance party Fabian had anticipated would actually be a Rochforte army. Mistral continually cast anxious glances over her shoulder, but could see nothing other than the herd of dirty brown mares trailing along behind them. Instead of feeling relieved by lack of pursuers Mistral couldn’t help worrying that they were running in vain. The Rochfortes were Mages; capable of casting powerful spells that would give them a speed far greater than the pace they were riding at. Turning her head to shout to Fabian over the noise of rushing air, Mistral tried to keep some of the fear she felt from her voice.

  ‘Will they use Expediency to catch us?’

  Fabian shook his head, keeping his gaze fixed steadfastly ahead while he replied, ‘Expediency is uncontrollable once it has been cast. They would not be able to stop until the spell had run its course.’

  Mistral felt a small burst of relief at that news and turned her head to look at the mares. They were still galloping along in their wake; following their exhausted stallion who was gamely trying to match Spirit’s flying strides. Even their seasoned horses were unable to keep up the hard pace for long and began to flag. When Cirrus stumbled from exhaustion and nearly threw Mistral, Fabian immediately slowed Spirit to a more sustainable canter. The slower pace allowed the mares to catch up and left Mistral and Fabian able to talk more easily.

  ‘Please tell me what has just happened.’ Mistral called breathlessly while she pressed a hand to her side to ease the stitch from riding so hard.

  Fabian turned to look at her, anger shining in the black depths of his eyes, ‘What happened?’ he echoed bitterly. ‘What happened was that I allowed myself to become so blinded by an obsession that I was willing to place you and our son in danger! Pierre is actually Pierre Rochforte, Etienne’s uncle.’ He paused and scowled angrily, shaking his head at his own oversight. ‘I should have realised that something was amiss the moment we saw the state of the herd! The Mage who bred them and travelled to the Council to sell them is obviously long dead. The Rochfortes must have been aware of his plans and seen it as an ideal chance to abduct you.’

  ‘But how would they know I’d take this Contract?’ Mistral demanded. ‘Any warrior could have taken it!’

  Fabian gazed at her, his black eyes suddenly cold and hard, ‘No Mistral. It was a Contract offered exclusively to Fortes and English; an Agency with only twenty warriors on their books, of which it is common knowledge that I am one. Someone close to the Rochfortes who knows of my relationship with you and also understands you well enough to be certain that you would relish a Contract such as this is the key to this.’

  ‘Who?’ Mistral demanded angrily. ‘Etienne? Christophe?’

  ‘Close.’ Fabian murmured icily. ‘But try Golden.’

  Mistral’s eyes widened at the realisation of the truth. Golden was Etienne’s lover now, and no doubt eager to embrace the bitter blood feud that existed between the Rochfortes and the Nobles; especially if it presented her with the chance to destroy Mistral and something she loved ... Fabian. Pierre’s promises of Fabian’s imminent death had been real. Mistral had known the words were true the moment they left his lips. Golden. Her perfect features flooded Mistral’s mind with sickening clarity. She shook her head angrily to banish the vision. ‘What’s French for Golden?’ she asked suddenly.

  ‘D’or.’

  Mistral swore and shook her head again, this time at her own stupidity, ‘Pierre kept thinking her name, but I didn’t know what the word meant! Damn it! We’ve been set up from the start by that scheming bitch! I will kill her Fabian! I swear it!’

  ‘Mistral.’

  Fabian called her name softly; she turned her head sharply to meet his steady gaze, her forehead furrowed into angry lines.

  ‘I need you to focus, to See –’

  ‘See?’ Mistral stared at Fabian, too full of the raging anger that inflamed her senses and made her incapable of any rational thought, other than riding straight to the Rochforte stronghold and wrapping her hands around Golden’s skinny throat …

  ‘Mistral. This is important.’

  Drawing in a deep breath, Mistral held Fabian’s gaze and let their black depths calm her enough to speak without ranting about Golden, ‘Who?’

  ‘Etienne.’

  Mistral nodded. She’d been expecting him to ask for that since they’d arrived in France, ‘I’ll try.’

  Fabian reached over to take Cirrus’ reins, allowing Mistral to concentrate on the faded memory of Etienne’s face. The image wavered and flickered, threatening to slip from her mind altogether. Mistral frowned and redoubled efforts, focussing on the calculating look in his eyes ... the disdainful set of his features. She held the picture clearly in her mind, determined not to fail Fabian again, forcing herself to focus on the colour of his hair ... the precise shade of his eyes ... and suddenly the image of Etienne’s face appeared with such startling clarity that she instinctively recoiled, nearly falling from the saddle. In a sudden rush his thoughts poured into her mind. Her face instantly relaxed, becoming vague, almost disturbingly vacant. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

  ‘Ah ... I See you –’ Mistral smiled briefly, her success short-lived. French. He was thinking in his own language ... and she couldn’t understand a word. Quickly discounting the words, Mistral concentrated instead on the images in his head and the scenery she could see through his eyes. ‘They are travelling … they ride hard … he is filled with purpose … we are that purpose,’ she paused and a frown flickered over her blank face. ‘No … I am that purpose … he sees me in his control … hah!’ Mistral’s face twisted with hatred. ‘D’or! Golden … he thinks of her –’ Mistral began to recite Etienne’s thoughts, repeating the language she didn’t understand in a toneless voice while Fabian listened carefully, his face creased into hard lines of concentration. When she fell silent he prompted her with a series of questions which she answered in the same flat voice.

  ‘What of the scenery Mistral?’ Fabian finally asked. ‘Do you recognise where they are?’

  This time Mistral frowned and gazed unseeingly at the sky, ‘No … nothing is familiar … I can’t see the farmhouse.’

  ‘Then we are ahead of them.’ Fabian said with quiet satisfaction. Reaching out to hold her hand tightly, he drew Mistral from her trance. ‘I think we should stop and rest now. I want to check your injuries, and you should eat something too. It will help with the shock.’

  Mistral looked around dazedly and was surprised to see that the sun had already set. She’d been in Etienne’s mind longer than she’d realised. Reining to a halt beside a fast-flowing stream, Mistral dismounted and stretched, groaning quietly when every muscle in her body protested. She unstrapped her saddlebag and winced when her shirt grazed against the raw knife cuts, making them throb angrily. She lifted her shirt to examine them, tentatively prodding the wounds to see if they opened beneath her touch. Sighing with relief when they didn’t, she dropped her shirt to see Fabian watching her anxiously.

  ‘When we return to the Valley I want you to have a thorough check-up. But for now I will clean those wounds to keep any infection out.’

  Mistral said nothing while he gently cleaned and bandaged her cuts. A visit to the Infirmary was the last thing she wanted when they got back, she’d been thinking more along the lines of a trip to The Cloak.

  Fabian looked up, guessing her thoughts instantly, ‘I mean it Mistral.’

  Mistral met Fabian’s worried look and gave in, ‘Oh, alright then. But Cain, not Serenity. Now tell me what I Saw in Etienne’s mind,’ she asked, grabbing a hunk of bread from her saddlebag and tearing into it hungrily.

  ‘Etienne ordered the murder of the old Mage who owned the unicorn herd when he returned from the Isle.’ Fabian surmised briefly. ‘They knew of his plans to sell the herd to Mage Grapple. As I suspected Golden had told Etienne of how much such a Co
ntract would appeal to you, and it was obvious that such high profile work would only be offered to Fortes and English. All that remained was for them to place Pierre in the stead of the dead Mage and have him wait at the quayside to meet whoever was sent.’

  ‘Which, of course, was us. Just as they knew it would be! We couldn’t have made it any easier for them if we’d tried!’

  Fabian’s face tightened into angry lines, ‘I’ve been so blind! How could I have not realised that this was a trap?’

  ‘Fabian, I’ve got the Sight and I didn’t see it! Please don’t be so hard on yourself. We’re both alive and we saved the unicorn herd –’

  ‘It’s slightly premature to be congratulating ourselves yet Mistral. We have another two hours riding before we reach the harbour!’ Fabian abruptly rose to his feet and strode over to untether the horses.

  They continued with their journey in silence. Mistral alternated between reading Gleacher to ensure that he was prepared for immediate departure and Etienne, whose thoughts became increasingly ambiguous, confusing Mistral.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she muttered, pulling herself out of Etienne’s thoughts again. ‘He’s concentrating on things that just don’t matter! He was staring at the sky just now and must’ve been thinking about the weather because he kept shivering with cold!’

  Fabian frowned but said nothing. His brooding silence set the tone for the remainder of their ride. Finally reaching the outskirts of the small fishing village they halted and looked down at the harbour. It was deserted, the market stalls boarded up for the night and the fishermen long since headed to their beds or the tavern. The Ri ship remained moored to the quay. Torches lit along the deck revealed two of the crew on watch.

  They pushed their weary horses on, descending the dirt track leading down to the harbour at a canter only slowing to a walk once they reached the cobbled quay. Mistral felt her skin prickle as they rode out into the open expanse of the harbour front. The moon was hidden behind a heavy bank of cloud and the only source of light came from the torches along their ship’s deck. She pulled Cirrus to a halt and stared into the heavy shadows of the empty market stalls. Fabian rode up alongside her and she heard in his thoughts an echo of the sudden apprehension she felt. It was so quiet that Mistral could hear the mooring ropes creaking as the Ri’s ship moved with the swell. The noise repeated, too quickly for it to have been made by the gentle rocking of the ship. Puzzled, she looked at the ship more carefully then a sudden motion caught her eye, drawing her gaze over to the other side of the harbour. Hearing Fabian’s sharp intake of breath she knew he’d seen the movement too. Lit by the weak flare of torchlight, Mistral and Fabian watched in frozen silence as several shadowy figures rose up from their hiding places on the rooftops along the edge of the harbour. Each had a long bow drawn ready; the creak of drawing bowstrings was the noise Mistral had mistaken for ropes.

  Fabian’s breath escaped his lips in a low hiss, ‘Archers! It’s a trap!’

  A lone figure rode out from the dark shelter of the empty stalls in the centre of the quay. Torchlight shone on his fair hair and lit the face that tilted to greet them with an arrogant smile. His name escaped Fabian’s lips in a low growl.

  ‘Etienne.’

  Mistral stared at the Rochforte she’d been reading for the last few hours, the truth finally dawning on her. She hadn’t recognised any of the scenery on his journey because he hadn’t been riding to the farm. He’d been riding to the harbour to cut off their escape route.

  Fabian pushed Spirit forward so that he was between her and Etienne and Mistral heard the unmistakable sound of bowstrings tightening in response to his action. She looked quickly at the silhouetted archers on the rooftops. Some were aiming at Gleacher and the crew now gathered on the deck of the Ri’s ship, but most were aiming at Fabian. She realised that none were aiming at her. The threat was plain. Fabian and the crew were to die for any wrong move made, but she was to remain alive.

  ‘Fabian! The archers are trained on you, not me!’ her urgent whisper sounded too loud in the tense silence. She tried to control her voice to finish her request. ‘Please … stay behind me!’ She dismounted stiffly and began to walk slowly towards Etienne, leading Cirrus by her side. She could hear the ringing steps of Spirit’s metal-shod hooves following behind and the quieter sounds of Fabian’s footsteps. The slowness of her steps belied the speed with which her mind was working. Focussing on the statue-like figure before her, Mistral called forth the vision of his aura. The resulting explosion of silver, gold and turquoise made her teeth clench with fury. Etienne was pleased with the results of his plan. She was forced to admit that he had every right to be; he’d planned well. They were outnumbered and outmanoeuvred and their only means of escape lay across an open expanse of quayside covered by enemy archers. Her mind rapidly processed their options: fight? It would be suicide. Pull the smug-faced Etienne from his horse then ram a knife against his throat and use him as a bargaining tool to elicit their escape? It was a pleasant fantasy, but in reality Mistral knew the Rochforte soldiers would just shoot Fabian and not particularly care if they accidently shot her as well.

  Mistral could hear Fabian’s footsteps matching her pace while he walked behind her. She glanced up at the archers, watching them adjust their aim to keep him in their sights. Mistral knew with sickening certainty that Etienne wanted Fabian dead and for the blame to lie at her feet. He would contrive for Fabian to die trying to defend her in some way then use the crushing despair she would feel to break her spirit and bend her will to their ends. It was too similar to the plan they had so nearly succeeded with before. She narrowed her eyes in anger at the irrefutable evidence blooming in his aura; a dirty yellow stain of disappointment that marred the swirls of silver and gold. What else did he have to be disappointed about? His plan had worked beautifully so far; she and Fabian had obligingly delivered themselves right into this trap. He could only be disappointed that Fabian had acted with unusual restraint and denied the archers their shot. But then Etienne didn’t know that she was with child and how that one simple fact had changed Fabian’s entire perspective on the value of his own life. Mistral knew that if pushed, that would all change in a heartbeat. The innate need to protect her was so deeply ingrained in him that with very little provocation he would react instinctively, and throw his life away in place of hers. She’d seen too many lives thrown away already to stand for Fabian to do the same.

  Saul.

  For some unknown reason the face of her dead brother suddenly filled her mind. The familiar warm brown eyes that she never dared admit to herself how much she missed were gazing at her accusingly, telling her that she knew what she should do. An idea immediately began to take shape in Mistral’s mind. She lifted her chin with sudden determination and strode more purposefully towards Etienne. He watched their approach silently, his expression contemptuous, but his aura showed caution. Mistral continued to walk across the quay until she was opposite the Ri’s ship, there she halted and addressed the head of the Rochforte tribe in a clear voice.

  ‘Etienne.’

  ‘Seer.’

  ‘You have come for me?’

  He nodded once and raised an eyebrow as she slowly drew her dagger from the back of her belt. Holding his gaze steadily she raised it and placed the point against her throat, pressing into the vein until the skin pulsed beneath the point of the blade.

  Mistral raised her voice to carry across the quayside to the archers, ‘Hurt Fabian and I will take my own life.’

  A flicker of amusement crossed Etienne’s cold features, ‘She assured me you would value the worthless life of De Winter more than your own.’

  ‘Then I’m glad she taught you something more than just our language.’ Mistral responded acidly.

  A long silence fell while Etienne stared at her, his eyes narrowed in thought. Mistral stared back. She could feel the tension radiating from Fabian, his cold fury pummelled at her mind, distracting her focus. With a conscious effort she shut h
im out, concentrating solely on Etienne and the aura colours broiling above his head.

  ‘We appear to have reached an impasse,’ he smiled humourlessly and waved a hand casually at his archers. ‘You are surrounded. It is impossible for you to escape.’

  ‘There is no impasse. I See what you want.’ Mistral replied coldly. ‘But it will be on my terms.’

  Fabian stirred in response to her words but he didn’t speak. His startled thoughts broke through into Mistral’s mind and she forced them out again. She couldn’t allow anything to detract her from her purpose now.

  Etienne glanced at Fabian briefly then returned his gaze to Mistral. Tilting his head to one side he regarded her for a long moment before speaking. ‘State your terms.’

  ‘The unicorns and horses are to be loaded and the ship is to have left the quayside with all of the Ri on board; alive and unharmed.’

  He gave her a long assessing look before nodding curtly. Turning in the saddle he shouted a series of rapid orders to his archers in French. Mistral felt Fabian’s tension lessen fractionally with each bow that was slowly lowered. At once the quayside was alive with activity. The ramp into the hold of the Ri’s ship lowered with a crashing bang and the crew swarmed out, moving swiftly across the quay to retrieve the herd of unicorns. Mistral listened to the muted thuds of their unshod hooves on the wooden ramp fade away as they were led into the depths of the hold, too exhausted to resist.