‘What?’ Phantasm murmured, not looking up from his task.
‘I fancy a change tonight. It’s not every day that we turn twenty one. There must be some fish in that lake … I think I’ll have a try at catching some.’
‘Don’t bother on my account.’ Samson muttered with a shudder.
Brutus reached into his saddlebag and threw Phantom a rolled up ball of fine twine, ‘Here, take my line, it’s good and strong. I used it when we were driving the unicorn herd … caught a damned great trout with it.’
‘I remember that! It was the most revolting creature I’ve ever seen!’ Samson grimaced at the memory of the fish Brutus had caught. ‘Definitely worse than a knucker! All wet and slimy with huge bug eyes … can’t image how anyone could bring themselves to touch one, let alone eat one!’
‘Well you certainly didn’t Samson! If I remember rightly you took one look at it and refused to even come near the fire when it was cooking … you reckoned the smell of it made you feel sick!’
Samson laughed, ‘Not as sick as I felt watching you and Fabian eat the thing! Talking of which, where is Fabian?’ he looked around with a frown. ‘I didn’t see him and Mistral out hunting.’
‘I saw their horses are down by the lake.’ Phantasm said, still engrossed in the grouse he was plucking.
‘Can’t believe she’s a Training Lieutenant now.’ Brutus shook his head, smiling. ‘Those poor first years!’
‘Being taught by her has got to be better than training with her was.’ Cain muttered with feeling.
‘And they’ll learn some fine language too.’ Xerxes added with a grin. ‘Plus she’s a damned sight better to look at than Cyrus or Barak were, especially at the moment.’
‘What is it with you and pregnant women brother?’ Brutus asked with an exasperated frown. ‘I can remember you following cousin Hestia around when she was expecting.’
‘Ah, Hestia.’ Xerxes went all misty-eyed for a moment before giving himself a shake and shrugging in response to his brother’s question. ‘I don’t know why I like pregnant women so much. I think it’s because they’re all plump and pliable … it’s a good look.’
Cain and Brutus burst out laughing.
‘If Mistral ever hears you call her either of those words you won’t be able to walk for a week!’ Brutus warned.
‘You’re right.’ Xerxes frowned thoughtfully. ‘Neither really apply to her. In fact, on second thoughts, I don’t envy those first years at all.’
‘At least they won’t have a second year with Malachi to look forward to.’ Phantasm drew his dagger and starting to prepare the grouse for cooking.
‘Did Mistral read him this morning?’ Samson asked.
Phantasm nodded, ‘Same thing as last night. He’s travelling with no real purpose in mind. At least we know he hasn’t returned to the tribe and rallied the females.’
‘Now that’s one bunch of charming ladies I’d rather not have the pleasure of meeting.’ Xerxes said with a shudder.
‘He can’t go back to the tribe, they’d shred him on sight.’ Samson said dismissively. ‘They’ll blame him for the loss of two generations of males, plus their leader. Until some of the young males mature the tribe are going to be fairly inactive. The females certainly won’t leave their young to go hunting as far afield as Bellicose did, so it’s back to good old animal blood for them … for a while at least.’
‘I vote for coming back with a decent sized party and clearing the whole nest out.’ Xerxes growled.
‘Not a bad idea.’ Samson agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘Make a nice trip in the summer –’
He broke off as Phantom came striding back into the camp with a thunderous look on his face.
‘You could have told me that Mage De Winter and Mistral were in the lake!’ he cried, glaring accusingly at his brother.
‘I only saw their horses.’ Phantasm looked up in mild surprise at his twin’s angry arrival. ‘How was I to know they would be swimming? They could have just been taking the horses for a drink.’
‘Swimming?’ Phantasm snorted disgustedly. ‘They were in the water, but I don’t think you could call what they were doing “swimming!”’
Samson gave a loud guffaw and Xerxes smirked, making Phantom’s scowl deepen.
‘I literally had to crawl back to avoid being spotted!’ He fumed. ‘It would have been so embarrassing if they’d realised I’d seen them!’
‘You shouldn’t have been so worried.’ Cain said, stifling a laugh. ‘If they were that preoccupied then I’m sure they wouldn’t even have noticed if you’d wandered right up to the bank and started fishing!’
Brutus started laughing, ‘You always have had a knack of interrupting them!’
‘Not on purpose I assure you!’ Phantom retorted. ‘I’m going to be mentally scarred for life by what I’ve just seen!’
By the time Mistral and Fabian appeared, the fire was lit and Phantom was carefully turning a spit laden with rabbits and grouse over the flames.
‘Good swim?’ Xerxes asked with a knowing grin.
‘Yes thank you.’ Mistral replied primly. ‘Fabian did some fishing too, here – Happy Birthday brothers!’
Phantasm smiled and took the pair of brown trout Mistral was holding out, but Phantom couldn’t quite meet her eyes and quickly returned his attention to the meat roasting over the fire.
‘I’ll do that brother.’ Mistral offered, kneeling down beside him. ‘It is your birthday after all.’
Relinquishing his role as camp cook with muttered thanks, Phantom stood up and took the wineskin Samson offered him.
‘A toast!’ Xerxes roared, rising to his feet and raising his own wineskin up high. ‘To the twins! Double the trouble, but damned handy to have around in a card game when I’ve made the mistake of betting on a poor hand!’
A burst of laughter met Xerxes toast followed by a ragged echo of “the twins!”. A brief silence fell while wineskins were drained. Mistral smiled at the firelit faces of all her brothers, bruised, and in some cases still bearing traces of dried blood, but all wearing matching grins. Turning back to the fire, she gazed into the flames and idly turned the spit, letting her mind wander pleasantly.
‘What’s he doing?’
‘Who?’ Mistral gave Phantasm a blank look.
‘Malachi of course! You had that faraway look you always get when you’re reading someone.’
‘Did I?’ Mistral blustered, going red. ‘Er, Malachi … right –’
For a moment the firelit scene faded to be replaced by a starry sky, the sound of booming waves and the smell of salt on a cold wind.
‘He’s still travelling.’ Mistral said, drawing her mind back from Malachi’s. ‘Somewhere near the sea.’
‘He’s near the sea you say? Good! Let’s hope he’s going to jump off a cliff then.’ Brutus said loudly.
‘I doubt that Malachi is the type to be driven to suicide by defeat.’ Fabian said quietly. ‘I think it is far more likely that he is about to leave the Isle for more hospitable climes.’
‘You think he’s going to join one of the other vampire tribes?’ Phantasm asked.
‘Anything is possible when dealing with a creature as resourceful as Malachi. He is not unused to living amongst humans either, it was often required when he worked for the Council carrying out cleaning Contracts.’
‘What?’ Xerxes choked and sprayed wine out with an incredulously laugh. ‘Malachi scrubbed floors at the Council?’
‘Not that kind of cleaner brother.’ Phantasm said quietly. ‘The kind that cleans up Mages who expose their true identities.’
‘“Cleaning?”’ Brutus snorted. ‘Is that what the Council call it?’
‘You know the Council brother.’ Cain said disdainfully. ‘Why call a spade a spade when it can be so aptly described as a manually operated digging implement?’
‘Where do you think he’s gone Mage De Winter?’ Phantasm asked under the laughter resulting from Cain’s joke.
&nb
sp; ‘The Rochfortes.’
Phantasm exhaled softly, ‘Of course –’
‘Dinners ready!’
Mistral’s announcement ended their murmured conversation and caused a frantic scramble of activity. Before long they were all sat cross-legged around the fire enjoying roasted grouse, rabbit and trout.
‘Seriously, get that away from me.’ Samson growled to Brutus who was biting into a hunk of the cooked fish with relish.
Mistral laughed and moved closer to Fabian to make a space, ‘Sit by me Samson. I’m on your side when it comes to eating things that don’t breathe in the normal way.’
Happily sharing a hunk of roast rabbit with Prospero, Mistral listened to Samson and Fabian discussing the possibility of a return trip to clear out the vampire tribe in the summer.
‘Do you think Leo would pony up a Contract fee for it?’ Samson asked.
‘Possibly.’ Fabian mused. ‘But definitely not officially. And there is no way Eximius would be seen to be paying to have the tribe eradicated, no matter how much he secretly wishes it.’
‘So it’d be a case of more highly dangerous, unpaid work then?’ Samson said with a grin.
Fabian laughed softly and slid his arm around Mistral, letting her know that whatever mad plans Samson was making, he would not be involved.
‘Brothers!’ Cain rose to his feet with a flask in his hands that Mistral instantly recognised. ‘I’ve been saving this for a special occasion, and aside from the moment that I finally meet my nephew, I can’t think of anything more apt than celebrating the fact that we’ve just wiped out two generations of blood-sucking parasites and are still standing – well, for the moment anyway!’ He knelt down and filled a row of horn tumblers with an evil-looking black liqueur, passing them around before standing up and raising his own in a solemn toast. ‘To those who fell and to those who remain … and to those whose birthday it is!’
A loud cheer rang out then they all tilted the tumblers to their lips and downed the potent liqueur in one swallow.
‘Hell’s teeth!’ Samson gasped with watering eyes. ‘What is in that?’
‘Manticore poison.’ Mistral sighed, passing her tumbler over to him. ‘Here, have mine. It tastes better the second time round.’
Samson laughed. Turning his empty tumbler over and placing it onto the ground he took hers and downed it in one quick swallow. ‘A song!’ He cried once his coughing fit had subsided enough to allow him to speak again. ‘This birthday party needs a song!’
‘The Ballad of Elias the Fallen!’
Xerxes’ demand was taken up by the others. Empowered by the manticore liqueur; the twins eventually bowed to pressure and began to sing in clear lilting voices.
Mistral listened to the twins singing the sad ballad and watched sparks flying up from the fire to expire in the cold night air. The night sky was filled with thousands of stars, gleaming jewel-bright over them. She lifted her gaze to contemplate the various constellations, thinking again of the centaur tribe and her lessons with Imperato. It was May and the sign of the Gemini was in precedence. Mistral smiled, wondering at the existence of destiny. How much of a coincidence was it that the twins, the Gemini, were born under the sign that defined their gift?
A raucous bout of laughter drew her attention back to her brothers. The manticore liqueur was taking effect and a lively bout of story-telling had ensued; each tale defying the last with improbable acts of daring and, to Mistral’s ears, utter stupidity.
‘No! No!’ Samson cried. ‘Fabian and I can top that one! Do you recall that Contract to sort out the giants brother?’ He leapt to his feet and began to retell the tale, turning occasionally to Fabian for confirmation of a fact.
‘Happy Birthday brother.’ Mistral smiled when Phantasm dropped lightly down beside her. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t got you both a gift.’
Phantasm turned to look at her with glass-bright eyes, greener and more dazzling than any emerald, ‘There’s nothing you could give me that would mean more to me than you already have.’
Mistral gave him a puzzled look, wondering how drunk he was, ‘What do you mean?’
He smiled, transporting his angelic face with a beauty that was almost divine, ‘I’m going to be a godfather.’
‘Yes you are.’ Mistral couldn’t help smiling at his joyous expression.
‘It means more to me than you will ever know Mistral,’ he whispered, his bright gaze not leaving hers.
‘And you mean more to me than you will ever know,’ she replied, still smiling then added in a more serious tone. ‘You taught me what it meant to have family when all I cared about was me.’
His face became suddenly sad, ‘But now you have an entire centaur tribe that are your family –’
‘Yes, I have a whole damned tribe of relatives now.’ Mistral cut in with a weary sigh. ‘But I value you and your brother above them all. You’re my family.’
He gazed at her wordlessly, the green eyes that she had seen a thousand times now glowing with intense emotion. Overcome by an impulse even she couldn’t explain, Mistral suddenly leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
‘Happy Birthday brother.’
‘Ah brothers!’ Samson had finished his story and raised his wineskin in a loud toast once more. ‘I feel the time is ripe to share with you a tragic tale of epic love and devastating loss, and I pray that none of you here suffer as much as the hapless young warrior in The Ballad of The Falling Star –’
He began to speak in his low, rasping voice, relating the melancholy tale to his rapt audience. Firelight flickered across his scars, each a reminder of a Contract, a fight, or a foolish error; but Mistral knew that none had caused him as much pain as the words falling from his lips.
‘Such beauty did befall his eye
A star, a comet, she blazed ‘cross his darkest sky
Her eyes were sapphires, her looks so fine
With skin of lily and lips of wine
Silken hair in summer’s golden glow
Haunt my dreams of deepest woe – ’
Mistral listened to the poem and glanced at Fabian, turning her head to breathe her words into his ear, ‘Did he write this about Gemma?’
Fabian nodded; his thought murmuring in her ear.
His father was a travelling bard …
Mistral raised an eyebrow; that explained Samson’s love of story-telling. She listened to the rest of the ballad, knowing that every word was true made the story even more poignant. When he finished a silence fell across the camp.
Xerxes wiped a tear from his eye and raised his wineskin to Samson, ‘Ah, well told brother, a truly tragic tale … but well told, well told –’
‘Ah, yes. I can ruin a good tale by telling it.’ Samson sighed and took a long swig from his own wineskin.
‘I feel that some light relief is needed! I know a little ditty or two myself. Now, join me in the chorus brothers –’
While Xerxes launched into a rendition of his goblin song, Mistral turned to resume her whispered conversation with Fabian, ‘Did you ever meet Gemma?’
Fabian nodded, ‘Once, briefly. Samson and I Qualified at the same time and he met her just after. But then I took a long mercenary Contract in Desert Lands. By the time I returned it was all over.’
‘He still loves her.’ Mistral whispered sadly, watching Samson singing, the grin on his face conflicting with the pale green aura of sadness encircling his head. ‘I wish it’d been different for him.’
Fabian followed her gaze but could only see his old friend apparently having a good time, ‘You see more than others do Mistral, perhaps too much.’
‘You think it’s none of my business?’ she turned to look sharply at him.
‘Is it?’ Fabian responded evenly.
‘I See lies, hidden desires and concealed slights every day of my life, but in Samson I See sadness, regret and love! What’s so wrong with wishing happiness for him?’
Fabian smiled, lifting a finger to trace the angry lines creasing
her brow, ‘No, my love, there is nothing wrong in that. But Gemma was a long time ago, and I am certain that Samson is only thinking about her again because of you.’
‘Me? What have I done to Samson?’
‘Not to Samson.’ Fabian said softly. ‘To me.’
Mistral gazed at him silently, waiting for him to continue.
Fabian’s smile faded, his gaze roamed over her face for the briefest of moments before seeking her eyes again, holding them with his ebony stare, ‘Samson used to joke that my name befitted my character too well, that my soul was as cold and unfeeling as the winter snows … but then I found you and now my soul is warmed by all the seasons.’
He paused and leaned forward to brush her lips with a soft kiss. She closed her eyes and savoured the touch, opening them again to see him gazing at her almost sadly.
‘Samson sees a change in me I am sure he never imagined possible, and he sees you growing with child, the family he will never have. He knows now that the love he threw away all those years ago will be a regret that will burn with him on his pyre.’
‘But why doesn’t he just go and find her?’ she whispered. ‘You came to find me, and even though I thought you loved another, I wanted you –’
Fabian pressed a finger to her lips and gave a slight shake of his head, ‘I never loved another Mistral, only you.’ Sighing deeply he took hold of her hands and looked down at them thoughtfully. ‘I cannot say why Samson has not sought her out; we have never discussed the matter. However I know that Samson is a proud man, despite the way he likes to play the fool. I am sure he feels that too much time has passed for his pride to permit him to risk her rejection.’
‘But if he sought her out and spoke with her, at least he would know, either way – wouldn’t that give him some kind of closure, or at the very least give him the opportunity to apologise?’
‘Ease his guilt?’ Fabian smiled. ‘I think his guilt is his way of making amends. His penance if you will.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’
‘Is it?’ Fabian looked at her carefully. ‘And do you still blame yourself for Saul’s death?’
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