The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  Mistral fought back the impulsive need to look at Fabian. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his body and hear every tense, shallow breath he drew. For a split-second she allowed his thoughts to fill her mind. They were cold and emotionless; the mind of an assassin. For an instant she saw through his eyes, calculating the angle at which he would have to throw a dagger to strike Etienne with a mortal blow, how to protect her from the ensuing hail of arrows that would surely follow, would the weight of his dead body crush her and hurt the child within her?

  Mistral blanched and quickly withdrew from his mind. There was no way she could execute the final part of her plan without Fabian throwing his life away. He’d displayed formidable restraint so far, but what she was about to do would undoubtedly push him into enacting the horrifying scene she’d just Seen in his mind.

  ‘The unicorns are loaded.’

  Gleacher’s voice cut through her turbulent thoughts. Meeting Etienne’s hard stare again Mistral nodded and slowly lowered her dagger. Sliding it back into her belt she turned to face Gleacher and walked a few steps towards him, holding out Cirrus’ reins for him to take.

  ‘The Rochfortes are not having my horse too,’ she murmured so quietly that only Gleacher heard her. His grey eyes bored into hers, reading the meaning of her words while he reached out to take the reins. For a brief moment they were close enough to conceal a whispered conversation. ‘Restrain Fabian,’ she breathed.

  Gleacher froze but quickly recovered, bending his head to hide his words while he looped Cirrus’ reins through his hands, ‘Do nothing hasty! We are outnumbered!’

  ‘I know. I’ve got a plan.’

  Gleacher made no response and turned away. Mistral paused to watch him leading Cirrus into the hold, giving him time to speak to his crew before she turned back to face Etienne. ‘I am ready to go with you now.’

  ‘No!’

  Fabian’s shocked cry was instantly followed by the sound of struggling. Mistral didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She knew Gleacher had passed on her instructions. The crew were holding him back. She took a step towards the Etienne, ignoring the grunts of pain coming from the crew as Fabian fought to be free.

  ‘MISTRAL!’

  The agony in his voice made her feet stall. She half-turned towards him but kept her eyes on the ground, not daring to meet his gaze. If she took one look at him she would be lost.

  ‘No! Stop! Mistral! Don’t go near him!’

  Mistral flinched at the raw despair in his voice but kept her eyes fixed firmly on the cobbles at her feet, ‘I am going with Etienne,’ she said quietly. ‘I have to. It’s the only way that we all walk away from this alive.’

  ‘NO!’ Fabian’s anguished shout reverberated across the empty quayside.

  His pain was too much for Mistral to bear. Drawing in a deep breath she dragged her eyes up meet his tortured gaze. ‘I have to go Fabian, or they will kill you,’ she attempted a smile, her lips trembling with the effort. ‘And how can you come and rescue me if you’re dead?’ Her eyes held his for a single moment longer then she turned and began to walk numbly towards Etienne.

  The sounds of Fabian shouting her name while the crew dragged him into the hold abruptly ended in the echoing bang of the ramp being drawn up. Mistral closed her eyes at the finality of the sound. She was completely alone now. Shouted instructions coming from the ship told her that the crew were making ready to cast off. She fought back a sob of despair and opened her eyes to gaze at Etienne, waiting motionlessly for her in the centre of the quay. She began to walk forwards again when Etienne called out to her in icy tones.

  ‘Not another step until you give up your dagger, please Seer. You may have little regard for your life but I value mine quite highly.’

  Mistral halted and slowly drew her dagger and holding it aloft by its point for Etienne to collect.

  He smiled scornfully, ‘I don’t think so. Forgive me if I do not trust you to pass me a knife, but I have seen you skin a deer and have no wish to receive the same treatment.’

  ‘I could throw it to you, if you’d prefer.’ Mistral offered.

  The humour abruptly left his face, ‘Throw it in the water!’ he snapped.

  Mistral’s face darkened with anger. She abruptly whirled around and flung her favourite dagger out across the dark water. It struck the side of the Ri’s ship with a dull thud and embedded into the wood. The hilt could clearly be seen glinting in the moonlight just above the waterline.

  Turning back to meet Etienne’s amused look; Mistral shrugged angrily, ‘I’m sure Golden also told you I had a bad temper.’

  ‘She told me many strange things about you Seer; in particular your love of horses – a seemingly inane fact that turned out to be a most worthwhile piece of information.’

  Mistral held his cold gaze steadily, ‘You could say horses are in my blood.’

  A puzzled look crossed Etienne’s face but he didn’t question her strange response and turned to look over his shoulder, raising a hand in a silent order. The sound of footsteps was quickly followed by the sight of two Rochforte soldiers appearing from the gloom at the edge of the quay, running towards her. Mistral remained calm while they seized her arms and began to move her forcibly across the quay. It didn’t cross her mind to resist, she had agreed to go. Turning her head to look at the Ri ship one last time she saw that it was still tied to the quayside.

  ‘Wait! I can’t go yet!’ she quickly cried out, her voice cracking with the panic she was trying so hard to conceal.

  ‘Oh really? And why is that?’ Etienne raised an eyebrow and waited for her to explain.

  Mistral took in a breath and forced her voice to sound calm. She had to appear in control. ‘The deal isn’t complete yet Etienne. Not until the ship has left.’

  Even as she spoke, the clanking sound of the anchor chain being drawn echoed out across the water. Etienne glanced over at the ship, the last ropes were being pulled in; the ship had already cast off.

  He shrugged dismissively, ‘Even I have time for you to enjoy watching your worthless De Winter sail away from you.’ He uttered a few harsh words in French then laughed callously. The two guards immediately stopped trying to drag her across the quayside and let her turn to face the ship. They maintained their crushing grip, but she barely noticed the pain of their fingers digging into her arms; her eyes were raking the shadowed decks for a glimpse of Fabian. To see him again, even for the briefest of moments, was all she needed to convince her that she was making a terrible mistake.

  ‘Try not to hate him for his cowardice.’ Etienne called out gloatingly. ‘He cannot help the weak blood of the Nobles that pollutes his veins.’

  Mistral ignored him and continued to stare at the ship. The oars rose and fell in the black water, pulling the ship away with steady strokes. Only one crew member could be seen working on deck and of Fabian there was no sign. Mistral realised with a wrench that Gleacher must have locked him in one of the cabins to prevent him from coming back for her.

  A sudden breeze lifted her hair. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, savouring the salty sharpness. She drew in another breath and could just pick out the fainter smells from the market stalls behind her. One of Rochfortes holding her arms gave her a strange look.

  ‘Just enjoying my last breath of freedom,’ she murmured, knowing he wouldn’t understand her.

  Etienne’s cold voice barked out again, issuing orders in French that she didn’t understand, but the soldiers did and they instantly resumed their efforts to haul her across the quay. Mistral’s heart began to race at the enormity of what she’d agreed to do. She had willingly given herself to the Rochfortes, and in doing so betrayed the Isle … the Ri … her brothers … the twins. But what she suddenly hated herself for more than anything was the fact that she’d betrayed Fabian. The image of his tormented face burned in her mind, searing her with a pain so sharp she gasped out aloud. Jerking her head around Mistral stared with wild eyes across the harbour at the black silhoue
tte of the ship steadily carrying her Mage away. The moon drifted out from behind its veil of cloud to bathe the harbour in an eerie silvery glow. Mistral forced her aching eyes to take in every detail of the illuminated ship, willing it to turn and come back for her … imagining the sound of his voice calling her name as he strode towards her with his arms open...

  Furiously blinking back the tears that stung at her eyes, Mistral gritted her teeth and refused to let them fall. She would rather die a thousand deaths than reveal one single ounce of weakness to Etienne.

  Etienne!

  Black hatred bubbled up inside Mistral, washing away her self-pity. How dare he rip her life apart to satisfy some pointless ancient blood feud? He, Etienne Rochforte, the Mage waiting so arrogantly for her to meekly surrender her freedom ... he had forced her to betray Fabian, and for that she would make him pay. Her eyes gleamed brightly in the darkness, this time not with unshed tears but with revenge. She would kill him and then escape, or die trying. Either way, she would never permit Etienne Rochforte to make her a traitor.

  With her decision made, Mistral lifted her chin proudly and no longer limply accepted the soldiers’ pressure on her arms but strode confidently between them across the moonlit cobbles, towards Etienne; towards her fate. Her destiny.

  They quickly drew level with the rows of boarded-up market stalls where Etienne was waiting for her. She was now mere strides away from him. It was over and they both knew it. His arrogant features blazed with a triumphant smile.

  It was the same smile that Fabian had worn the first time he had kissed her … and on the day she had married him ... and the moment he had found out she was carrying their child. And now Etienne Rochforte was daring to wear that same glorious expression? Rage coursed through Mistral. Drawing her lips back into a silent snarl she envisaged smashing her fists into his condescending face. In the same split-second she saw her crumpled body riddled with arrows lying on the quayside and knew she couldn’t give way to her impulsive anger.

  Forcing down a calming breath Mistral nearly gagged when a familiar smell filled her nostrils in a sickening rush. Hope suddenly flared in her, hot and bright, burning away her anger. She sucked in another deep breath, and then another until her stomach gave a queasy roll and rebelled against the lingering scent of honey coming from the nearby stall.

  Retching loudly Mistral turned to liberally splatter both soldiers in vomit. They instantly sprang back with startled cries of disgust. Wrenching herself from their suddenly unwilling hold Mistral immediately sprinted towards the edge of the quay, her feet pounding in time to her frantic heartbeats. Shouts erupted behind her followed by the sound of running feet but she didn’t dare to look over her shoulder. Reaching the stone edge Mistral didn’t hesitate and dived headfirst into the black water. She remained under the water for as long as she could to hide from the archers, swimming until the burning pain in her lungs forced her to surface. Pausing only long enough to draw in a single ragged breath, she struck out or the Ri ship, now half-way across the harbour.

  More shouts rang out from the quayside, quickly followed by a series of loud splashes. Mistral risked a glance over her shoulder and saw four soldiers swimming towards her. With a panicked curse she pushed her arms and legs to work harder, her already tired limbs aching under the extra weight of her waterlogged clothes. She kept her eyes fixed on the Ri ship, just visible over the mounting waves, gliding smoothly away from her towards the harbour entrance and the open sea. She let out a sob of frustration; to be so near to Fabian and yet so far away was unbearable. The water grew rougher the further away from the quay she swam. Strong waves buffeted at her, pushing her back towards the soldiers. Mistral began to panic in earnest. The soldiers were stronger swimmers than her, she could hear them steadily gaining and the resulting spasm of fear gave her fatigued muscles new life. She dived under water, changing direction to surface further away to their left. The tactic seemed to work; for a moment all she could hear was her own laboured breathing then a hand grabbed her leg. With a shout of surprise she kicked out sharply and heard a satisfying snarl of pain when her boot connected with something solid. Diving back under, Mistral changed direction again and pushed up to the surface for much needed air. She opened her mouth to draw in a lungful of air only to suck in a burning mouthful of salty water instead. Coughing and choking, she floundered, her wild gasping filling her aching lungs with more water. Her feebly kicking legs slowed and she began to sink. A large wave broke over her, sending her tumbling down into the black depths of the harbour.

  Mistral drifted spread-eagled down through the disorientating blackness. She gazed around in vague disinterest at her surroundings. Realising dimly that she was under water she turned her head to look up at the surface, but she couldn’t decide which way was up and which was down. The burning urgency for air faded, leaving in its place a feeling of tranquillity. Mistral smiled. She was drowning. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

  Hands gripped her arms, pulling her up. She broke the surface and immediately spewed out a lungful of salty water. Someone was dragging her through the water but Mistral had no strength left to fight. She submitted weakly to the grip of her captor, staring dazedly up at the stars in the black sky. Sounds filtered through her waterlogged ears; the persistent slapping of waves, shouts, screams of pain, and a high-pitched whine that reminded her of something ... but she couldn’t force her stupefied mind to remember what.

  ‘Mistral? Can you hear me?’

  Ah, now that sound she would know anywhere. She closed her eyes and smiled, knowing for certain that she had drowned and was in heaven.

  ‘Mistral! Look at me!’

  She frowned. Being nagged didn’t fit in with her image of heaven, and neither did being cold. Mistral opened her eyes, shuddering violently.

  ‘It’s shock. You’ll be fine when we get you on board. Hold this –’

  Mistral felt strong hands taking hers and wrapping them around something solid. The grip was comfortingly familiar. She stared at her hands, wrapped tightly around the hilt of her own dagger, buried deeply into the side of the Ri’s ship.

  ‘Fabian?’

  ‘I’m here Mistral. Just try and hold on a little longer. You’re nearly safe.’

  His hands were pulling something around her and tying it tightly beneath her arms. She felt a powerful tug wrenching her out of the water, lifting her up through the air towards the deck of the ship. Gleacher’s hands reached out to grab her and pull her over the balustrade. He didn’t speak to her but quickly unknotted the rope and dropped it over the side again. Soaked to the skin and shivering uncontrollably Mistral stared about her in utter confusion. The ship wasn’t moving. The crew were no longer at the oars but lined up at the stern, firing their longbows into the water ... then Fabian’s arms were suddenly around her, pulling her tightly against his drenched body and nothing else mattered.

  The Lion Fights Back

  ‘So, as honeymoons go, that one was an unmitigated disaster!’ Phantom declared in an impressed voice.

  Mistral pursed her lips thoughtfully, ‘Oh, I don’t know –’

  ‘I quite agree Mistral. I would hardly say that rescuing one of the last remaining unicorn herds and reading both Etienne and Pierre Rochforte could be called a disaster!’

  ‘What? And nearly drowning?’

  While Phantasm argued with his brother Mistral looked down at her dog to hide a smile. She would remember their brief honeymoon for quite different reasons. ‘Have you seen the unicorns yet?’ she asked when Phantasm had finished berating his brother.

  ‘Yes, and thanks so much for bringing them back to the Valley, feisty little gits aren’t they?’ Phantom said sourly. ‘One of them actually chased me across the paddock this morning! I thought the damned thing was going to stick its horn –’

  ‘Brother.’ Phantasm interrupted curtly. ‘I think we ought to hear more about the Rochfortes, if you don’t mind.’

  Mistral sighed and leaned back against the
wall of The Cloak and Dagger. Lifting her feet up onto the stool in front of her she stroked Prospero’s head. He groaned contentedly rested his head into her lap. She smiled fondly at him while she replied. ‘Well, I couldn’t understand the language of their thoughts, but their determination to secure the services of a Seer was blatantly apparent.’

  ‘And they nearly did by the sounds of it!’ Phantasm exclaimed. ‘You weren’t seriously going to hand yourself over to Etienne were you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied truthfully. ‘It was the only way I could ensure everyone got away alive. I knew Fabian would come back for me, eventually. And anyway, I had my butterfly knives hidden in my boots.’

  ‘So if your plan to vomit your way to freedom failed you would’ve resorted to the more standard tactic of taking on the entire Rochforte tribe armed with just a pair of knives?’

  Mistral shrugged, ‘That was about the size of it.’

  ‘And just what did Mage De Winter have to say about this master strategy of yours then?’ Phantom asked. ‘Because I think I can actually hear him using the phrase “over my dead body”.’

  ‘Which was precisely why I did it brother.’ Mistral said quietly. ‘And no, Fabian wasn’t particularly keen, but I got Gleacher and the crew to help me out.’

  ‘Help you out?’ Phantasm frowned. ‘How? I can’t see that Master Shacklock or the crew have any particular sway over Mage De Winter.’

  ‘No, but they did manage to restrain him.’

  ‘Master Shacklock agreed to restrain Mage De Winter in order to let you defect to the Rochfortes?’ Phantom asked dubiously. ‘That doesn’t sound like him!’

  ‘Gleacher’s not like Fabian. With Gleacher its logic over emotion every time, and this was no different. I surrender to Etienne and everyone stays alive. He knew the Rochfortes didn’t want to kill me –’