The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  Goodbye …

  Her eyes flew open as he turned and walked away from her. She was suddenly confused; he was going away? Where? Inexplicably powerless to follow, she could only watch him leave with the same easy strides she had matched countless times. She called out to him, asking him to wait, telling him that she would come with him … but he didn’t halt, and his tall figure was quickly lost in the dense fog. She struggled against the invisible restraints binding her, but they resisted and held her still, preventing her from following after him. Flooded with the terrifying certainty that she would never seem him again she began to scream his name until her voice ripped from her throat in a hoarse rasp. Fabian was gone, leaving her alone and frightened, unable to shake off the heavy weight that was smothering her, resolutely holding her back from following her Mage. Panic filled her; she began to hyperventilate, staring around frantically for something familiar to reassure her.

  A spark of green light flared in the murk and darted towards her, splitting into two smaller flecks of bright opulence, each no bigger than a firefly. The twin orbs began to move around her in dizzying circles, demanding her attention with their erratic movements. Her breathing slowed and calmed as her eyes followed the mesmerising green lights, shining jewel-bright in the gloom, like emeralds …

  Ah –

  Mistral sat bolt upright and stared around wildly until she locked gazes with the calm green eyes she had seen in her dream, ‘What the hell are you playing at?’ She exploded. ‘Bored with waiting for me to wake up were you? Thought you’d give me a nice little nightmare to drag me screaming into wakefulness?’

  ‘Now brother.’ Phantasm murmured softly.

  ‘Well, are you going to explain what that was all about? Or am I going to have to beat it out of you?’ Mistral demanded, still glaring at them both while she fought to free herself from the heavy Wolverine skins.

  ‘Let me help you.’ Phantom offered and started to wrap the Wolverine skin more tightly around her.

  ‘I’m really not in the mood for your stupid antics brother!’ Mistral fumed. Throwing the skin off again, she leapt to her feet.

  Phantom immediately grabbed her arms and pinned them by her sides, ‘Sorry about this –’

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she howled.

  ‘Orders Mistral.’ Phantom grunted as he tried to hold her still. ‘Will ... you ... just ... calm down –’

  ‘What?’ Mistral froze, noticing the deserted campsite for the first time. ‘Where are they? Oh no, no, NO! I do not believe that man!’ She became completely still in his hold, staring off into the darkness while she reached out for Fabian, listening to his thoughts. ‘Oh! I bet you’re sorry De Winter!’ She growled, her eyes sliding sharply back into focus. ‘But nowhere near as sorry as you’re going to be, I promise you!’ She immediately began to struggle against Phantom’s grip, cursing him with every missed kick and attempted stamp. Prospero growled, his pale eyes fixed on Phantom.

  ‘Oh damn, not you too Prospero! Rope brother! NOW!’ Phantom yelled urgently, nimbly dodging Mistral’s well-aimed boot.

  ‘You dare tie me up and I swear I will kill you both!’ Mistral jerked her body sharply to the side and rammed an elbow hard into Phantom’s solar plexus, forcing the air from his lungs with a satisfying gasp. Feeling his grip slacken fractionally, she twisted free of his grasp and sprinted away.

  ‘What the hell did you let her go for?’ Phantasm shouted, flinging the coil of rope at his brother’s feet as Mistral galloped away on Cirrus.

  ‘Well, it’s a bit difficult to know where to hang on to her these days.’ Phantom panted, doubled-over with pain.

  ‘Her hair, damn it!’ Phantasm yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

  Phantasm groaned, ‘Didn’t think of that one–’

  A Fight to the Death

  Away from the shelter of the cave mouth the wind blew with wildly, whipping Mistral’s hair across her face and obstructing her vision, forcing her to slow Cirrus to a steadier pace or risk riding off the edge of the steep-sided mountain path. Her anger quickly abated, cooled by the need to concentrate fully on steering Cirrus safely along the rough path in the pre-dawn darkness. By the time she heard the sound of the twins’ horses catching her up, she was completely calm. Greeting them both with a curt nod, she gestured down to her right.

  ‘Mind out for Prospero.’

  ‘I think you broke my rib!’ Phantom complained loudly.

  ‘It’s no more than you deserved! Now please shut up, I’m thinking!’

  Phantom snorted and said something derogatory that was lost in the noise of the wind. Mistral ignored him. She was weighing up her options. Tempting as it was to catch up with Fabian and confront him, Mistral knew that would only result in neither of them fighting as he would no doubt insist on keeping her out of the battle, leaving the other warriors facing insurmountable odds. Even if she waited until they were in position and then joined them, she would only serve to distract him, possibly fatally. No, he needed to focus on the fight, and the only way he would do that was if he thought she was still safely back at the camp. The only answer would be for her to fight without him knowing.

  ‘Right, I need you two to inform Samson that we’re going to be shooting crossbow from above, but he’s not to let Fabian know.’

  ‘Mistral, please, don’t be so stubborn about this. Think rationally! You’ve no armour, no swords and no knife belt! You couldn’t be less prepared if you tried!’

  ‘We’ll stay up high, out of the fray, and pick off the vampires from above.’ Mistral continued in a determined voice. ‘I know Brutus and Xerxes too well. They won’t stay out of the fight for long even, if Samson has ordered them to shoot longbow from above. It’s personal for them now. They’ll want to be in the thick of it. We’ll be providing the cover they should be.’

  ‘Is there no way I can persuade you not to do this?’ Phantasm’s voice was barely audible above the moaning wind. ‘It’s going to be a fight to the death today. I don’t want it to be yours.’

  Mistral’s brows knitted together in a deep frown, ‘Did you not hear Bellicose’s plans last night brother? He doesn’t just want to clear a path for his son to become the next Divinus so that he can gain more power at the Council , he wants to rule the Isle and turn it into some sort of private hunting ground for the vampire tribes of the world! Whether I survive today or not isn’t really important compared to that!’

  ‘All the more reason to inform Mage Grapple of his intentions and enlist the help of the warlocks.’ Phantasm argued stubbornly.

  ‘No time brother!’ Mistral snapped, turning back to concentrate on the path. ‘The vampire tribe are on the move.’

  ‘Already?’ Phantasm couldn’t disguise the note of alarm in his voice.

  Mistral nodded, her eyes misting over for the briefest of moments to See, ‘Bellicose is running, Malachi is beside him … his lieutenant now … the ground beneath his feet is white –’

  ‘Snow! They are still up high.’ Phantasm exhaled in relief. ‘Time is on our side.’

  ‘For now brother, but please do as I ask you for a change! Let Samson know our plan then we can prepare.’

  They halted the horses while the twins stared silently at one another, joining their gazes to become one and harness the power of their gift; the Gemini.

  ‘It is done.’ Phantasm said quietly and dropped his gaze from his brother’s.

  At the sound of his voice Mistral’s eyes slipped back into focus, leaving Samson’s mind, ‘He understood. Good. Now we can get ready.’

  While the twins checked their crossbows Mistral tied her hair back and removed her cloak, rolling it up and securing it on the back of her saddle. She was cold without its protection but it would be too restrictive to wear whilst shooting. The bitter wind tugged at the fabric of her shirt as she quickly pulled on the leather jerkin of Leo’s she’d forgotten to return.

  ‘Gloves –’ Mistral passed each of the twins a pair of leather fin
gerless gloves, ideal of keeping hands warm when shooting longbow or crossbow but leaving the fingers free.

  Phantasm frowned down in surprise at the new gloves.

  ‘Yes, I bought you both a present in a fit of misplaced gratitude for agreeing to be godfathers! Now for crying out loud put them on, because believe you me, I have so changed my mind over the last few days! No need for thanks, you can buy me a drink, when I can drink again that is –’

  Without looking at them Mistral abruptly kicked Cirrus on to continue riding up the path. The mountains to the east were already starting to lighten from black to dull grey. Narrow bands of inky black clouds stretched across the dawn sky. They rode in silence, making themselves heard over the increasing noise of the wind was impossible without shouting, and they were too near the gorge where Samson planned to ambush the vampire tribe to risk anything but silent communication.

  Mistral listened instead to the twins’ thoughts, replying when necessary with their own version of the Ri’s code. For the most part their thoughts revolved around the coldness of the wind and the discomfort of the journey but the nearer they drew to their destination the more their minds gradually emptied, becoming cold and detached, focussed on the forthcoming fight.

  She listened continually to her Mage but his thoughts were even fewer than the twins’. He didn’t think once of her, for which she was glad. He would be able to focus completely on the fight and not be distracted by her.

  How close are we to the gorge?

  To answer Phantasm’s unspoken question Mistral slipped deeper into Fabian’s mind, going beyond the occasional murmur of his thoughts to See out of his eyes.

  High walls of rugged rock reared up on either side. Xerxes and Brutus were crouched on rocky ledges above her, black silhouettes beneath the lightening sky. Her eyes raked the rocky skyline, memorising the shape of mountain peaks just visible beyond the top of the gorge. Drawing her gaze back, Mistral watched the dark figures of her brothers melting into the shadows along the rocky sides. She felt Fabian’s hands tense around his sword hilt in preparation. They were ready.

  Withdrawing from Fabian’s mind, Mistral turned to study the mountains around her until she recognised the same range she had Seen through his eyes, but the angle was wrong. They were heading too far north; the sun had been rising behind Fabian. Raising a finger to point wordlessly to their left she pulled Cirrus off the rough path and urged him up the scree at the side. They climbed quickly, pushing their horses through banks of prickly gorse and scrambling up rocky outcrops. Twice they had to dismount to lead the horses over small slides of loose earth and stone, their hooves slipping to dislodge more and send them rattling down onto the path, now an unnervingly long way below them. The wind grew stronger the higher they climbed, blasting Mistral mercilessly until she was obliged to lean low over Cirrus’ neck to avoid the worst of its cold bite.

  The twins were heedless to the cold wind. They rode with straight-backed rigidity, narrowing their eyes to cat-like slits against the wind’s onslaught to constantly scan the mountainside around them. If they had any fears about the fight then they were not thinking about them, all Mistral could hear in their thoughts was purpose.

  There!

  She followed Phantom’s pointing finger to see the others’ horses tucked in the shelter of cliff-face. Her heart quickened at the sight of Fabian’s bright mare, hunched miserably against the stone with her back towards the wind. Slipping down from Cirrus, Mistral led him over to Spirit. The mare gave him a soft whicker of greeting as he pressed his bulk protectively against her, shielding her from the wind. Laying her hand briefly against Cirrus’ shoulder, Mistral glanced down at her dog. He would be safer here with the horses, but she wanted the comfort of having him by her side.

  Prospero must stay. It will be too dangerous for him, plus, he can’t climb …

  Phantasm’s curt thought made her realise how apparent her indecision must have been, making her smile humourlessly at the stark contrast between her character and her gift. She could conceal nothing, yet by the same token no-one could conceal anything from her.

  Except Malachi.

  He had successfully evaded her gift long enough to put into action a plan to murder half the warriors in the Valley, including all of her brothers. Unbidden images flickered in her mind; the village square running with blood; Phantom’s lifeless body, his mouth open in a frozen scream. The fact that Malachi wanted her alive gave her no consolation. She would rather have Seen her own slain body in his dark fantasy than be a part of any twisted plans he and Bellicose had made. Pushing aside the horror of Malachi’s vision, Mistral slung her crossbow across her back and turned to face the twins. They were waiting for her in silence; statues carved from finest marble could not have been stiller or more perfect. Both were possessed of a faultless beauty capable of melting the hardest of hearts but Mistral could hear their thoughts, and there was no beauty in them at all. They echoed her own savage determination to make Malachi’s bloody revenge their own. She nodded once to them and turned to look out across the sky, slipping effortlessly into Fabian’s mind and orientating herself through his eyes.

  The dawn colours had faded to leave a watery blue strip of sky streaked with long shreds of cloud. The sun was not yet high enough to shed any rays down into the gloomy gorge, leaving it heavy with shadow. Deep within the shelter of its high sides the wind was a distant moan, eerie and unsettling. Mistral stared out at Fabian’s surroundings, following the curving walls of the gorge around to the west where it tapered away into blackness, knowing from his thoughts that would be the direction the vampire tribe should enter from. She heard a faint scratching sound through Fabian’s ears and felt his responding tension, she strained her ears to hear the sound repeat and knew for certain what it was. The rasp of claws running over rock.

  The vampires were coming.

  ‘Damn it!’ Her eyes snapped back into focus to stare urgently at the twins. ‘The tribe are in the gorge! We have to hurry!’ The wind tore the words from her lips but the twins nodded quickly, reading her expression more than her lips. She turned her head to gaze up at the sky and spun around until the clouds above her matched exactly the image she Seen through Fabian’s eyes. ‘This way!’

  Mistral scrambled up the rock where the horses were tethered and slid down the other side. The twins followed her, leaping down lightly where she had been forced to slide. Frustration engulfed Mistral as she began to run with heavy slowness, battling against the force of the wind and encumbered by her pregnant body. The short distance of ground between them and the start of the gorge seemed to take a lifetime to cover. She gave a low cry of relief when the entrance to the gorge finally appeared, a long dark split in the rocks rising up around them.

  We can’t go in! We’ll ruin the ambush!

  Mistral nodded and veered away from the entrance, forcing her leaden legs to keep running and carry her to the base of the rock wall on their right. She skidded to a halt, breathing heavily while her eyes roved over the rough surface for suitable holds. Finding one she immediately began to climb, digging her fingers in the hard rock and hauling her inflexible body up, inching up the rugged face. The twins climbed faster, overtaking her to reach a narrow ledge and vault onto it with enviable ease. Phantasm instantly knelt down and reached out to pull her up; she accepted his help gratefully and knelt on the ledge, ignoring the pain of the sharp stones digging into her knees while she recovered. The twins were already on their feet waiting patiently for her, neither showing the slightest sign of exertion. Giving a faint smile at the look of resentment he saw on her face, Phantom extended a hand to pull her upright.

  You’ll outrun us all again soon Mistral …

  Mistral raised an eyebrow in a silent promise to do just that then followed Phantasm, already sidestepping carefully along the exposed ledge into the gorge. They crept along, keeping their backs pressed to the rock for protection from the wind rushing past them. Growing impatient for her first sight of the gorge wher
e Fabian was concealed, Mistral leaned out to peer over the edge when a sudden gust of wind caught her and sent her staggering forwards. She corrected herself hastily then stumbled again as another blast of wind buffeted her. Panicking, she tried to push her heels into the rock and resist the force of the wind but her boots slipped on the loose stones and suddenly she was falling, her eyes widening with fear at the sight of the distant rocks below abruptly coming into view.

  Mistral cried out with relief when strong hands grabbed her windmilling arms and pulled her back onto the ledge. Moving in front of her to form a barrier between her and the edge, Phantom turned to give her an admonishing look.

  Only you could try and die before the fight has even begun …

  Mistral said nothing; her heart was still in her mouth.

  They moved awkwardly along the narrow ledge with Mistral pressed between the rockface and Phantom until they entered the confines of the gorge and the wind lessened. The ledge they were following narrowed to a point then fell away to nothing. They had reached the end of their journey.

  Immediately dropping down onto one knee, Mistral unslung her crossbow and loaded it, ready to fire at the first sign of a vampire. Her eyes raked the gorge. She could see the crouched figures of Brutus and Xerxes on their platforms, but she couldn’t make out any of the warriors hiding along the shadowy sides; they had concealed themselves too well.

  Seconds longer than hours ticked past, each taut as the drawn crossbow in her hands. The wind continued to rage; groaning and howling above them like a deranged beast, reminding Mistral of the sounds of the feeding vampires. She stared with aching eyes into the western end of the gorge but it was just a distant slither of darkness to her. Her trigger finger tightened in agitation; she was too high up to be able see anything moving. She needed to be in Fabian’s mind to be closer, but she needed to stay in her own mind to be ready to fire. With a sensation akin to ripping cloth, her mind suddenly divided. One half remained in her body, alert and ready to fire, but the other flew to her Mage, burying itself deep within his mind, enabling her to hear the soft rasp of his sword being drawn through his ears and see the gorge through his eyes. Sight took over her mind, making sense of the deluge of contradicting information; the wind-torn sky above her was both close and far away, the gorge floor a distant ribbon below her yet also firm beneath her feet, the crossbow in her hands was also the sword held in Fabian’s grip. Another second crawled past then Fabian drew in a sharp breath; his words escaped her lips at the first glimpse of pale bodies moving through the darkness.