The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  ‘Oh! Damn them both!’ Mistral snarled and reached for the crossbow attached to the pommel of her saddle.

  ‘No Mistral!’ Phantasm rested a restraining hand over hers.

  ‘Come on brother!’ Mistral cried. ‘You heard Leo! This is my fault! I know you won’t let me fight, but at least let me shoot a few damned bolts into some Rochforte vermin!’

  ‘We’re not going to take part in this battle –’

  ‘We are damn it!’

  ‘– we’re going to win it!’ Phantasm finished angrily.

  ‘What?’ Mistral stared at him wildly.

  ‘You know what Mistral!’ Phantom pulled his horse around to face her, the noise of battle forcing him to shout. ‘For someone with the Sight, you can be so blind!’

  Mistral’s expression suddenly cleared, ‘Oh!’

  ‘Yes, oh.’ Phantom rolled his eyes and circled his horse tightly so that he and his brother were now on either side of her.

  Phantasm knotted his reins tightly and hooked them over the raised pommel of his saddle, ‘Now, if Prospero would be so good as to our guard while we do this, we can begin.’

  Mistral gave Prospero the command to guard. He immediately began to pace back and forth in front of them, his pale blue eyes staring fixedly down at the battle.

  ‘Good … hand please.’

  Phantasm took hold of her left hand while Mistral placed her right in Phantom’s. Their minds were instantly linked. Thoughts and emotions flowed freely between them; she shared in their shock at the sight of the Valley under siege, and they in turn felt her frustration at being prevented from fighting.

  Ah, but you can fight Mistral … now focus, we need to be more than observers this time. Are you ready?

  Ready brothers …

  Mistral lifted her head and cast one final look down at the battle being waged below then closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, clearing her mind of all distractions, letting the clamour fade to become a distant murmur. She inhaled and exhaled again, feeling the twins match her until they were breathing in harmony. Gradually their hearts slowed to beat together and three became one, existing with perfect synergy. Together they travelled down into Mistral’s mind, to the darkness of her subconscious where coiled tendrils of Sight lay waiting to be released. Conscious of the twins’ need to be able to follow her actions, Mistral carefully willed out a single strand of Sight, unfurling it with deliberate slowness to weave almost lazily through the air and fasten into the mind of the nearest Rochforte soldier. Abruptly a harsh voice invaded the peace of their conjoined minds, screaming the oaths and curses of battle. Mistral felt the disturbing sensation of the twins’ double presence linking together within her mind and heard beneath the soldier’s guttural shouts the faint whisper their gift. A sudden heat flared along the tendril of Sight and the shouting voice was instantly replaced by the blissful silence of a mind succumbing to deep sleep.

  It worked!

  They shared a moment of fierce triumph. The twins had successfully used the tendril of Sight as a conduit for their gift. Now it was time to take control.

  Can you keep up?

  Of course we can Mistral.

  We’ll See about that brothers …

  Sight erupted from her with a shuddering force, surging up into the sky until it reached an unseen peak and exploded. Tendrils billowed out across the Valley to form a vast invisible umbrella. It held for the merest of seconds, quivering with almost tangible impatience until Mistral’s silent command released a cloudburst of tendrils, hurtling down into the minds of their enemies. A profusion of voices filled their minds in a confusion of shouted French followed by their simultaneous translation, creating an odd echoing effect.

  ‘Où est le Seer? ... Where is the Seer?’

  ‘Nous allons conquérir vous! Vous savez la puissance de la Rochfortes! … We will conquer you! You will know the might of the Rochfortes!’

  She ignored them and concentrated on controlling the multiple strands of Sight, ensuring that each one was secured into the mind of a Rochforte and not one of the Ri until she was finally satisfied. Now it was the twins’ turn to work.

  Ready brothers?

  Mistral experienced again the unsettling sensation of an outside influence moving within her mind as the twins began to work their gift. Beads of heat pulsed along one tendril and then another, the process rapidly accelerating until Mistral felt as though she had tongues of fire reaching out from her mind, carrying the irrefutable force of the Gemini’s will.

  ‘Surrender.’

  And with that single murmured word an entire army was brought to its knees.

  Suddenly losing the will to fight many Rochfortes were instantly slain, falling soundlessly to the ground with a vacant look that swiftly glazed to become the fixed stare of death. Others tossed aside their weapons and held their arms aloft in the universal signal of surrender. Some were cut down anyway, others spared and held at sword point while they were bound and dragged to the Arena; the mighty Rochfortes, now prisoners of the Ri.

  On the steep path overlooking the village square Mistral and the twins gave a collective sigh. The battle was over, the Ri victorious. Mistral slipped her hands from the twins’ and gazed down at the scene of destruction below her. Bodies littered the cobbles, many clad in the Rochfortes’ white and gold livery, but a worrying number wore black. The battle may have been won, but now the real fight was about to begin; the fight to save the lives of the wounded.

  They immediately kicked their horses into a canter and rode into the aftermath. Mistral pushed Cirrus through the mass of people. Ignorant to the shouted jubilation at the sudden capitulation of the Rochforte army, she listened only to the one voice she could hear in her mind. To know that he was alive and unharmed was not enough. She needed see him with her eyes, feel his touch with her skin, hear his voice with her ears – arms reached up to pull her from the saddle, holding her captive. He was there.

  Leaving the twins with Prospero and both their horses, Fabian led her from the spent gore of the battlefield to the quieter seclusion of the path leading to the Main Building. They did not speak of the battle, or of the victory. Like so much that existed between them, it was already known. The words Fabian spoke were those he needed to, no more, no less.

  ‘Many have fallen. Serenity will need assistance in the Infirmary.’

  ‘I know Fabian, I will help.’

  His eyes moved over her face, assessing her expression carefully before he nodded, ‘I will stay with you.’

  ‘You never leave me,’ she said simply and slipped her hand into his, the living warmth of his skin the only sustenance she needed.

  Sunset fell across the Valley, red as the blood that drenched the cobbles of the village square. The wounded were brought to the Infirmary in a constant stream, some already dead before they were carried into the crowded room. Mycroft, his body nearly cleaved in two by an axe blow, two of the first year apprentices, Ezra, his swarthy goblin features pallid in death, and many more villagers whose faces Mistral knew, but not their names. She worked tirelessly alongside Serenity, treating those they could and providing company in the fading moments of those they couldn’t.

  Night fell. Noah moved around the Infirmary lighting candles before returning to the task of responding to Serenity’s quietly spoken requests and helping to move the bodies of the passed down to the village square where a huge funeral pyre was already burning. Fabian remained close to Mistral’s side, his silent presence affording her the strength to continue until she and Serenity had stitched, bandaged or closed the eyes of all those that had been carried through the doors. There was no conversation in the room, only the muted groans of the injured and the rasping breathing of the dying. Fighting back a wave of exhaustion, Mistral looked up to seek strength from Fabian’s dark gaze when the hand of the dying villager she was holding clasped hers with a sudden vitality.

  ‘Hear my words girl!’ His head lifted from the pillow, giving force to his hoarse whisper. ‘This
life is short and bloody! Don’t waste yours like I did mine! Don’t think me some fool old man. I know you ... I know you ... I’ve watched you grow –’ he coughed and sank back onto his pillow. ‘Promise a dying old man one thing. Forget the past ... it only drags you down. You are ... more –’

  ‘I promise.’ Mistral whispered through the tears that suddenly fell.

  ‘Come away Mistral, he is gone. You have done all you can tonight.’

  Letting Fabian pull her away, Mistral looked back over her shoulder to meet the glassy stare of the dead villager. He had died because of her, yet she hadn’t even known his name.

  Fabian led her from the Infirmary and down the path to the village square. The evening air was filled with the smoky heat of the inferno that blazed there. So many fallen, but the flames devoured them all; villager, warrior, father, brother, wife, mother, son, daughter … all equal in the anonymity of death. The bereaved had gathered at the base of the pyre in dignified silence. There were no outpourings of grief. Death was a part of the life they had chosen. They were Ri.

  Holding her hand tightly Fabian turned to kiss her, his lips briefly touching hers with a tenderness equalled only by the words he murmured in her ear. She leaned against his side, letting the warmth of his love alleviate her exhaustion.

  ‘Sister –’

  She smiled in response to the murmured double greeting of the twins, appearing like ghosts beside her to offer unspoken comfort through their presence. Fabian nodded to them both, acknowledging their part in the night’s proceedings, the silent victory that had been won through the power of his son’s gift.

  A respectful hush fell when Leo appeared. His face was blooded and one arm bound in a sling, but he still strode with pride into the square, his presence instantly stilling any murmured words. He halted at the base of the pyre and looked out at the gathered crowd, the hard set of his features illuminated by the flickering light of the flames. The penetrating blue stare that raked the silent crowd was filled not with shock or sorrow, but the heat of revenge. Raising his uninjured arm into the air Leo released a crumpled piece of cloth from his hand, letting it unfurl to reveal a white flag, heavily stained with blood but not enough to obliterate the blazing golden lion in the centre. A low growl rumbled through the crowd at the sight of the Rochforte banner. Leo held it aloft, letting it flutter in the light breeze while he gazed steadily at the crowd. Turning suddenly, he tossed the flag onto the pyre.

  ‘I swear vengeance on the name of Rochforte!’

  Shouts of assent met his words, swiftly growing into a roar of acclamation, hailing the new Divinus of the Ri in a ringing chorus that continued until Leo raised his hand once more to call for silence.

  ‘Tonight we honour the fallen and know that their sacrifice will not be in vain. Let the flames that burn before you ignite a fire in your souls, for we will have our revenge!’

  He strode from the village square to a storm of shouted approval and promises of bloody victory over the Rochfortes. Entering The Cloak and Dagger through the doorless opening he was greeted by Floris and presented with the only unbroken goblet, brimming with red wine.

  Mistral felt like her feet were made of lead when she moved with the crowd towards the tavern. The adrenalin of the night had faded, leaving her utterly drained. It was only the reassuring strength of Fabian’s arm around her that prevented her from stumbling with every weary step she took.

  ‘I know you are exhausted Mistral.’ Fabian murmured in her ear and guided to one of the few remaining tables. ‘We need only stay for a short while.’

  She nodded and leaned against his side, letting her head droop onto his shoulder and her eyes close while voices spoke around her; many recounting their personal victories, but all wanting to know what had made the army of Rochfortes suddenly surrender. The twins fielded the endless questions with typical poise; neither confirming nor denying that their gifts had brought about the end of the battle. Mistral knew the twins weren’t suffering from a sudden onset of modesty, but a wish not to belittle the fierceness with which the villagers had fought to defend their Valley. They would surely have won … eventually. Mistral and the twins had simply speeded events up slightly and prevented too many Ri dying in the process.

  A familiar voice pierced through her fog of exhaustion. Mistral smiled and opened her eyes to watch Samson talking with Fabian, noting the bruises on his face and dried blood matted in his hair she suddenly sat up. ‘Samson! Why didn’t I see you in the Infirmary? You’ve obviously been injured!’

  Samson flashed a gold-toothed grin and shrugged evasively, avoiding her piercing look he returned to his conversation with Fabian.

  Puzzled by his strange behaviour, Mistral pushed her tired mind into action and listened to his thoughts before sinking back against Fabian’s shoulder with a muttered, ‘Pathetic.’

  What is?

  ‘Oh, he wants to show-off his war wounds to Gemma tomorrow… reckons she’s got a gentler touch than me or something –’

  The twins laughed and Fabian joined in. Mistral listened to the familiar low rumble and smiled. Tomorrow ... tomorrow was a new day. Tomorrow she would return to the Infirmary and help Serenity care for the wounded. Tomorrow the remains of the pyre would be removed and the cobbles scrubbed clean of ash and dried blood. Tomorrow the villagers would begin to repair their homes and businesses … but that was all tomorrow. Right now she was going to submerse herself in the simple, glorious fact that everyone she loved had survived.

  ‘I will be back in a moment. Gleacher has just come in.’

  She watched Fabian move away through the tightly packed room and immediately felt warm tears slide down her face. Wordlessly Phantasm took hold of her hand, the silent touch more comforting than any offered words could ever be. Tightening her grip on his hand Mistral was ashamed to realise that her tears were not of grief for the fallen, but of overwhelming relief that her brothers had not been in the Valley. She secretly blessed the fake Contract Malachi had bought. The Rochfortes burning on a pyre in the meadows were merely the down payment on a debt that would be satisfied in full. Soon.

  Taking her other hand Phantom sighed and gave her a poignant smile, ‘Ah, Mistral, I know.’

  Mistral looked at him through her tears, ‘Is it right not to grieve, but be glad?’

  Phantom shrugged, ‘All I know is it isn’t wrong.’

  ‘Here, you and my godson have earned this today.’ Releasing her hand, Phantasm pushed a half-tankard of ale towards her.

  Mistral smiled gratefully and took a long swallow, not lowering the tankard until she’d drained every last drop. Placing the empty tankard down regretfully, she leaned back against the stone wall of the tavern and closed her eyes. She was spent. The day that had begun in a sunlit bedroom three days ride away had ended in a dark tavern filled with talk of bloody revenge. When Fabian’s hands reached for hers she took them gratefully, letting him take her away from angry plans for retaliation into the peace of his arms.

  Lady in Waiting

  The bell above the door tinkled cheerfully to announce the arrival of a customer.

  ‘I’ll be with you in a moment!’ Mistral called from the storeroom.

  ‘Take your time. I’ve just wasted a load of mine already –’

  ‘Cain!’ Mistral flew out of the storeroom. ‘You’re back!’

  Cain looked uncharacteristically glum, ‘Obviously.’

  Mistral grinned, ‘Oh brother! I’ve missed your wit and sparkling humour!’

  Cain glowered at her, ‘What’s there to smile about Mistral? We fell for a sucker Contract and let a load of Rochfortes invade the Valley! No end of villagers died because we weren’t here to fight!’

  ‘Yes, but you didn’t!’

  ‘Yes, I’m well aware that we didn’t fight – and thanks for reminding me!’ Cain snapped.

  ‘No Cain, I meant that you didn’t die.’

  Cain eyed her sharply, ‘The sooner you have your baby the better. I think the hormones are star
ting to addle what little brains you’ve got.’ His gaze slid from hers to take in the surrounding shelves. ‘And just what have you been doing to my shop?’

  ‘I rearranged a few things.’ Mistral shrugged and wandered over to tweak the banner above a display of health tonics. ‘Like it?’

  ‘Rearranged? More like completely changed everything! I’ll never find a thing now! Just what else have you rearranged?’ He demanded grumpily.

  ‘I might have tidied your flat up a bit too –’

  ‘Please tell me you didn’t let the twins in there.’ Cain groaned. ‘Everything will be folded into piles, and I’ll never get the creases out!’

  Mistral laughed, ‘No brother, it was all my own work.’

  ‘Huh! You must really be bored,’ Cain frowned, ‘or due –’ he suddenly moved towards her with a purposeful gleam in his eyes that immediately made Mistral retreat to the safety of the counter.

  ‘Er, can we do this later? I mean … you’ve just walked through the door! Surely you must want a drink in The Cloak or something!’

  ‘It can wait. All this sudden interest in cleaning and tidying is a definite indicator that you’re due Mistral, it’s classic nest building.’

  ‘Nest building? I’m not a damned seagull Cain!’

  The bell above the door gave another musical tinkle and Mistral rushed to greet the customer with relief, drawing out the conversation about an effective wart remover for far longer than the subject warranted until Cain thrust a jar of ointment into the woman’s hands and forcibly ejected her from the shop.

  ‘Now –’ Cain turned to fix her with a hard look.

  ‘Now I really have to meet Mage Grapple!’ Mistral said brightly.

  ‘No you don’t Mistral! Stop trying to avoid this!’

  ‘I do actually, he’s arriving in the village square in about five minutes, and I’m not trying to avoid it,’ she hurried from the shop before Cain could stop her. ‘I am avoiding it!’